#so fun to go back to my moodboard making past

[beaconfeels]

Stetopher in autumn 🍁🍂 📸 actor photos from Ian Bohen and JR Bourne’s instagrams, and google+screenshots. All other photos by me

[uncouth-the-fifth]

click - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (circa season 1) Tags/Warnings: cabin-in-the-woods moment, fluffy bestie banter, virgin reader, first time sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, and of course, Sam is a pussy god, as per usual. Word Count: ~20k (shhhh don't talk about it i have a problem) Notes: that's right, i make moodboards now bitches. these photos were collaged by my wonderful commissionee @daffodil-mania, who asked for: ""a reverse (you are a) natural, baby? where sam is the reader’s first time + a smutty cabin in the woods-type situation." Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

“Okay, okay,” you thought out loud, thinking hard, “my turn—if you could have anyone as a dinner guest, alive or dead, who’d you pick?”

A few paces ahead of you, Sam hummed in thought. His puffy winter coat made the outline of him against the swirling snow thicker, and if it was possible, taller, a menacing wall of deep blue between you and the woods. Something hiding out here and spying could even mistake Sam for something scary. Luckily, you weren’t that stupid.

Sam, for the millionth time in the last minute, checked that you were where you were supposed to be. (Two immediate steps behind him. Or he’d die). Looking back at you made the wind mess up his hair every time, and every time Sam tucked the same two strands behind his ears again. Like the shy girls in rom-coms did. Truly, monsters trembled at the sight of him.

He geeked at your question, but managed to play it cool: “Gandhi. Feel like he could teach me something. We’d probably like the same food, too, so it’d make for a good dinner.”

“Oh yeah, he was a vegetarian, right? You two could have a nerdy little salad together.”

Under the soft swell of the wind, you thought you heard Sam laugh, but it picked up in loud gusts at times that swirled skirts of untethered snow around your ankles. Well, your knees. The snow was tall enough here to seep into your boots. You’d given up totally on finding your own footing and started walking in Sam’s tracks, which were wider than yours almost all the way around. You told yourself that this was to confuse anyone tracking your prints in the snow, but really it was just fun to compare your shoe size to Sam’s. This set the walk back to the cabin at a snail’s pace. But with the way this conversation was going, you didn’t exactly mind freezing your ass off.

John had left his boys yet another unfinished hunt to distract them. Sam and Dean, tired of being distracted, changed tactics and split up. Dean was following a lead in Montana that could actually take him to John, and you and Sam were tying up John’s loose ends in upper Washington. The two of you had spent the last three days researching bloody disappearances in the area. An area in the thick of its snowiest, blurriest season, mind you, miles from anything but one of the Winchesters’ off-the-grid apocalypse shelters. This wasn’t how you and your mother had operated when you’d hunted together, but. Things changed. Parents disappeared.

Sam seemed to be shoving himself through John’s absence as best he could. You got smiles out of him here and there, but especially today, playing question games to pass the time mapping the woods and putting down traps.

“Gandhi was a fruitarian,” Sam clarified. He shielded his face from the snow by hiding in his collar, so you may have misheard when he added, “So, yeah. Him or my mom.”

Months ago, a mention of Sam’s mom would’ve shocked you into a full-on coma. He kept her memory even closer to his chest than Dean did, in some ways, and either brother even sneezing in the direction of their storied past had been a once-in-a-lifetime event. Before this hunt, that is. Now you couldn’t get Sam to shut up. Either the isolation had made him lonely or something else had pushed him to trust you, because the last two days had been spent this way—trudging through snow and spilling your guts about everything under the sun together. Sam loved to read and watch documentaries, he was fascinated by astronomy and meteorology and organized crime history and Native American folklore, and, hey, big surprise, reading. You’d never heard him talk about anything with so much passion. You hadn’t heard that passion in your own voice since before you’d lost your mom.

Still. As comfortable as you suddenly felt with Sam, you were sure to tread lightly. You risked a glimpse at his broad, snow-dusted back. “Mary would be nice too. Maybe you’d get to try some family recipe she’d make or something.”

“I think I remember my dad tellin’ me once that she hated cooking, actually, but m’ not sure,” Sam said, a bit of humor in his voice.

You thought of the soup Sam had turned to lava over the wood stove that morning, and grinned, “Yeah, I think you got that from her.”

Keeping casual eyes on your feet, you tried to see how fast you could get your boot through each foothold in the snow. Sam would make deep gouges in the powder with his longer strides. Crunch-crunch, crunch-crunch. You’d clear them three in a row, sometimes four, then stop short a step behind Sam and wait for him to make more tracks. Like hopscotch, almost. Every once in a while a huge gust of wind would force Sam to stop, and without a word he’d form a wall between you and the blast. You’d learned pretty much everything there was to know about Sam these last few days, but out of all his best dorky qualities his chivalry was your favorite.

“S’ not that I hate cookin’, I just suck attit.”

And the accent. The accent was gold, when the pretty drawl of it crept through with Sam’s boredom.

A little further and the spindly, snow-heavy trees parted for the lake you and Sam had been using to navigate. On your first day scouting you’d noticed how the icy surface had frozen like a misshapen heart, and since then Sam followed the point of it back to your cabin every night. Southeast of it was the abandoned mining facility that’d swallowed three people whole, and to its far right was where three more had disappeared. Your guess was a couple of territorial tree nymphs or werewolves, and Sam was betting on a Winter Hunger. The loser would take the first shift driving down to Montana.

Seeing the lake, Sam starts to arc your march around the edge, his sharp eyes on the treeline across the ice. The wind was stronger with room to run over the lake, but you reminded yourself that being a little cold was the gentlest way to die out here and forged ahead. Besides, most of your body had gone stark numb miles back. When you remembered how bad your cheeks were stinging, you’d bring your scarf tighter around your face and watch Sam, his long legs cutting easily through the snow.

The wind cooled down to a whisper. You reminded him, “Your turn.”

You’d reached a point where coming up with good questions had become harder than answering them, so Sam took a bit to stew on something good. There’d been a silent agreement on who was responsible for which kinds of asks. You would probe Sam with the deepest, most personal shit you could come up with, and after he explained what his life’s accomplishment was and what friendship means to him, Sam would go, uhhhh, what’s your favorite color? He was definitely the smartest shovel in the Winchester shed.

“How about this,” Sam cleared his throat. “Would you ever wanna be famous?”

You must’ve made a noise that gave away your surprise at the quality of his question, because he made a snooty sound back that had you seriously considering shoving him in the snow. You put your hands on his shoulders and everything, but where there should’ve been normal guy shoulders there were buff guy shoulders, which wouldn’t budge an inch. Sigh. What a lousy, muscly jackass.

Sam planted his feet, whining your name. “C’mon. Answer.”

“I’m thinking!” You laughed, and pushed with your legs until Sam tilted forward into his next step. It took a moment for you to keep your hands to yourself. “Okay. In this hypothetical world, what am I famous for?”

“Supermodel,” Sam answered right away.

You splashed a little snow at his jeans, deciding to save your funny feelings about his answer for later self-reflection. “Dude. Be realistic.”

At this, Sam snickered, and even with him facing forward you could imagine the dry sloping smile pressing into his dimples. “Okay—across the whole entire world, you’re famous for cooking the perfect soup in a can. Like, in ways no one can even imagine, that’s how good. You make millions of dollars off it and become a household name. Would you want that?”

“God, no,” you wuffed out, immediately sending Sam into a fit of giggles. “Are you kidding me? All those strangers knowing me, not giving me any privacy? And don’t even get me started on all those soup-hounds throwing themselves at me for my soup-money.”

“I guess that’s true. You could never marry for love, 'cause everybody would just want your soup,” Sam mourned. Another great Sam quality: he was excellent at going along with a bit. “You’d just have to live with brief soup-flings for the rest of your life.”

You thought about what a soup-fling could entail for all of one second, then burst out laughing, warm clouds of it spiraling into the air through your breath. The shoulders of Sam’s coat shook with glee. It was funny for a few more beats until it warmed into something that was light and airy, something you hadn’t heard from Sam since you’d met him. He had the sweetest laugh. It made your damn teeth rot.

“Y’know, speaking of flings,” you hollered over the hissing wind, “I have no idea how your brother does that shit.”

Dean was safe and familiar territory; he was the centerpiece of everything you had in common with Sam, so your conversation circled back to him plenty. Every conversation you’d had with Dean orbited around Sam some way, too, so you’d come to expect it. You’d never seen two brothers care about each other as much as they did. Which was hilarious, since the moment one of them got you alone all they did was bitch. Dean’s been driving me up the damn wall. Sam keeps stickin’ his nose in my business. Neither of them had ever had a trusted third set of eyes before, or at least one who understood that their complaints were overshadowed with love. John had been someone to look up to, to emulate and impress, but you were a fresh outlet available for family baggage. The boys were your outlet for bitching too, since it was understood that your bitching also came from the heart.

“A girl in every port sounds fun in theory, but I feel like I’d get sick of it fast,” you confessed.

The snow underfoot began to crunch harder with each step, packed down into a firm sheet. Soon Sam’s prints were so shallow that you could see the tips of your boots again. Taking the chance while you had it, you fought against the snow to walk side-by-side with him, then fought again to match him stride-for-stride. Sam’s poor face had been pounded with so much snow that his bangs were soaking wet, but he still managed a half-frozen smile seeing you next to him.

“And, I dunno. I think I care about hurting people’s feelings too much to just…” you gestured stiffly, “head to the next town after sharing a night with someone.”

“Same here,” Sam sighed, then gave a very subtle cough as a sign to shift gears: “But, uh, I think it’s kinda a stress relief thing for him.”

You probably should’ve guessed that Sam wasn’t the fling type, since you’d been there every time he’d shied away from Dean’s plans to pick up girls, but the idea… sat there. Staring at you. It’d be stupid-easy for Sam to live that lifestyle. Dean had his own notions about what girls were most into (bad boys, leather jackets, you know), but you happened to be certified in what girls were into, and you had it on good authority that Sam was a total dreamboat.

You nudged Sam with your shoulder, coaxing him open with a well-placed smile. This was unearthed territory. “Not your thing, huh?”

The snow had pinkened Sam’s face enough as it was, so what he was capable of on his own was downright impressive. Even his ears went red. “Uhh,” he chuckled, too skittish to look you in the eye. “No, not really. I’m. I, uh, I’d rather get to know her first, y’know. Before we’re intimate. And hopping towns doesn’t exactly give you the time to do that.”

Yup. Total dreamboat.

“Oh, so that’s your plan, asking me all these personal questions.”

Sam controlled his sputtering by pressing his lips into a firm, flat line, which refused to indulge your silly flirting. “You’re a jackass,” he said, and the growing smile in his voice betrayed just how little he thought that was true.

When you were done laughing at your own joke, Sam guessed, “So that’s not your thing, either? One night stands?”

You were having fun—pulling Sam’s leg, for one, but also talking to him in general, so the truth glides right out of your mouth.

“Wouldn’t know. I’ve never had sex.”

Sam had left his filter two states behind on the drive up, so he doesn’t even think to cap his disbelief. He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

His mortification with himself makes contact two beats later, and while you’re smirking and floating unbothered across the snow, Sam nearly goes belly-up falling over himself to apologize.

You soak up his groveling until Sam’s embarrassment hits a breaking point, then, in your humblest and kindest princess voice, you say, “It’s cool, Sam. No worries. I’m not at all offended you think it’s weird I’m a virgin.”

“I don—I-I don’t think it’s weird,” Sam stressed, going a little wild in the eyes. “It’s great! …I mean, not like, great, I just mean. It’s not a bad thing or anything.”

You meet his awkward silence with a smug, pleased one of your own. Sam’s smart enough to realize he’s stumbled into your trap, but not quick enough to find an escape, so he sputters for a long time and falls back on his third option.

“I’m just wondering,” he winces, knowing his question is stupid, “why are you still a virgin?” You’re about to laugh in his face, but the earnestness in Sam’s voice makes you hesitate. His question is a genuine one. “...That sounds awful, m’ sorry. But, c’mon. You’re smart enough to know how pretty you are. Charmin’ enough to use it, too. I mean, I’d…”

He caught himself. “—Anyone, would, uh…”

Sam didn’t finish his thought. He changed his grip on the shotgun swinging from his hand, self-conscious, and cleared his throat.

Well. That wasn’t obvious at all. No way in hell you were leaving that alone.

“You’d what?”

Sam didn’t say anything. He just tucked his hair behind his ears again, too shy to say what he was thinking but bold enough to let it be spoken in his silence instead. And it was a very, very telling silence.

Your brain scrambled to cram as much as possible into the blank Sam had left. There was so much potential in that one little word. I’d…

I’d understand if someone wanted to have sex with you.

I’d have found someone by now, if I were you.

I’d have sex with you.

I’d take that opportunity, ______, if I could.

Hm. Okay. Okay, huh. There weren’t a lot of people in the world capable of making you question your life decisions so quickly, but of course, this was Sam. His silence persevered. Your train of thought became an internal trainwreck.

A few opportunities had cropped up over the course of your life—third dates with guys that hadn’t totally sucked, a few handsome barflies—but nothing had… clicked. Because there was supposed to be a click, right? Before sex? Some compass in your body, moving you in a certain direction? You hoped to drift toward something that fit better than a stranger, but like Sam had said, that level of commitment wouldn’t be waiting for you out on the road. You could hook up with civilians or hunters as you pleased, but just the thought made your chest ache. Real connection wouldn’t be waiting for you in the back of a truck or a sleazy motel. Hunters lived short lives, sure, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be a hopeless romantic.

You’d held onto that notion for a long time. Someday, something would click, and it’d be worth the damn wait.

Now, Sam was here, blinking coyly at you through his bangs, keeping you close to him, listening when you spoke. Click, goes your brain. Like a gear notching into place. He has those mossy, sensitive eyes that pry right open just for you and the prettiest rasp to his voice. Click click.

“C’mon,” Sam coughs. “Cabin’s just ahead.”

I’d… Sam had said, and left you to fill in the blanks.

_

The next day, both of you were proven wrong. You found out the hard way that the disappearances weren’t caused by cannibalistic spirits or werewolves. After getting mauled by living hills of snow and almost swallowed by an avalanche, you and Sam got the very subtle and not-at-all-lethal impression that you were dealing with an insane case of cursed ground. (Cur-sed, Sam had said, because he was fancy.) It took some on-the-spot ritual work and a day’s worth of walking to bury hex bags in the right spots, but by dusk you were alive and comfortable back in the cabin.

“I say we stick around for one more night—make sure this place is clean,” Sam suggested, shaking himself out on the welcome mat. When he shucked his coat off, the silky interior and the back of his shirt were dark with melted snow.

You glanced between Sam, who was blue at the edges, and the shifting tides of flakes on the wind outside. If you stared long enough the whole mountainside seemed to come alive in the dark.

“Uh,” you told him, “are you sure? If we got even one of those spells wrong, what’s stopping this thing from burying the whole cabin?”

But Sam had already thought of that, like he’d already thought of everything else. He rose from where he’d been kicking off his boots to give your icy hands a quick, warming squeeze. “I got it covered. Go—get a fire started, and fast.”

Since you were still riding the wave of adrenaline that’d kept you alive against moving, living forces of nature, you were already following Sam’s orders before he’d finished saying them. He didn’t act hardly as hurried. Being soaked and half-frozen was apparently second nature to him, since he navigated uninhibited through the duffle of ingredients you’d unloaded on the cabin’s floor. Your fingers were so numb that it took three tries to scrape some fire out of your matches, and by then Sam was already tying off his millionth hexbag of the day.

You didn’t regain your senses until a few minutes later, which passed as slow as hours did. Somehow in that sliver of time you’d hauled more firewood inside, hurried it into the fireplace, lit it, helped Sam bury the protection spells around the yard, raced back inside, and laid all your wet clothes out in front of the hearth. The second the doors were locked, your high started to tank. Sam was talking.

“—will last us through til’ tomorrow. Then, in the morning, we can use the spell to see if the land is purified. It might even be a good idea to check with the dowsing rods, too. If this ground is as cursed as we think, the hexbags will be just fine, though, so you don’t have to worry. You listenin’?”

Sam was a big, fuzzy-edged shape sitting criss-cross on the ratty rug a few paces from the fire. His silhouette was outlined by it in handsome shades of gold and honey-white, ‘cause of course he was the kind of movie beautiful that suited romantic fire lighting. Like, really romantic. Your brain had been baking in the panicked sludge of fleeing and hunting all day, but even it was capable of looking at that image of Sam and going, Uh, yeah. There’s something going on here.

For the last few days, the two of you had purified the ground of the cabin, too. It was the most telling relic of Sam and Dean’s life with John Winchester: rationed, unglamorous, and harsh. John was usually an out-of-bounds subject for the boys, but Sam had spent the last few days describing him at length. He was paranoid and obsessive—hence the cabin’s military rations, hidden weapons, traps, metric fucktons of salt, and next to nothing else. John hated any music and technology post-1980—hence the cabin’s record player. It was the only source of entertainment on hand, and the same three records only lasted so long. Even as hunter’s hovels went, this one was impressively oppressive.

Sam, plagued by abysmal hunter-kid memories of being stuck out here, had warned you about it ahead of time. You’ll get bored and miserable. He’d said that and you’d thought to yourself how hard it would be to get bored and miserable around Sam, who mystified you just sitting there. Still, you splurged on some big fluffy blankets, the shittiest and cheapest chess set you could find, pillows, and s’mores. Not exactly the John Winchester essentials, but. Just in case.

Stuffing the footwell of Sam’s stolen truck with cozy bullshit had been worth it in the end, purely because you wouldn’t wish the sleeping situation in the cabin on your worst enemy. There was a single, boxspring-less bed crammed in the bedroom’s corner, with a blanket too pitiful to put into words. It only had one pillow. This pillow also happened to be of unknown origin and age, and you were only brave enough to touch it because you’d worn your big girl pants that day. Sam had banked on the two sleeping bags he and Dean had left there as kids, but they were unfortunately still kid-sized. The two of you would’ve been forced to share body heat under one petal-thin blanket. Now, loaded up with massive, fuzzy comforters and heavy quilts, the two of you were happily sharing body heat under enough blankets to drown in.

Sam had insisted on making a bed for himself on the floor the first night. You’d let him, purely because he was pouring on the chivalry by the truckload and you were too grateful to know what to say. Any plans to argue were pinned down by that stern, unguarded stare. S’okay, I’ve been sleepin’ like this since I was little. Just a few minutes sinking into your snug nest made you rot with guilt. Being on the road with the boys put you in a bed with Sam plenty of times, and though the quarters were a bit tighter in the cabin, the cold was sharper too. You confessed your guilt to Sam the next day, and after the usual research marathon that night you felt his weight fill the untouched side of the bed.

Okay, Sam had caved. But—you’re sleeping on the inside, by the wall. I’m a lighter sleeper. That way if somethin’ comes in, I can protect you.

Hearing that, you’d grabbed his wrist and pulled it over your side. You’d kept one hand fisted around the knife under your pillow and the other folded over Sam’s hand, as if to say, I can protect you, too. Sam must’ve understood, because he’d pressed his cheek against your shoulder blade and succumbed to sleep. The rest of the week was spent like that, Sam herding you against one side of the slim bed with his legs and his arms and his sleepy-soft breaths. Though the bed was toasty and the contact was a one-stop sleeping pill, you stayed up with your knife for company. Sam deserved to feel safe while he slept.

You didn’t get that often as a hunter. Especially the touching part. Touching of any kind only really happened when you trusted someone, and trust was earned on the road with all the ease and painlessness of pulling teeth. In Sam’s case, he was an untapped well for little doses of affection. The moment that line was crossed, the second you’d taken a hit in his place for the first time, the second you’d torn your own clothes to wrap his wounds, Sam was open to you. He would never reach for your hand first (not if he was still Sam, who thought he didn’t deserve it), but you could reach for his and he would take it without question. You could pull his arm around you and Sam would wrap it tight, pressing his nose into your back. There was an exchange that occurred. He trusted you to give him something he was too proud to ask for and you trusted him to let you in, the two of you careful not to break the magic.

While he poked at the fire and lit candles, you flitted to the other room to scoop up a blanket to wrap yourself up in. The constant back-and-forth insanity of the day had made you too nauseous to eat, but you knew your stomach needed something. Preferably something sweet to trick you into feeling rewarded. Military rations really weren’t your thing, so you opted for the pomegranate Sam had avoided to keep his research papers clean.

He’d been going through your plan for tomorrow, right. “I’m listening, Sammy.”

When you circled back to join him on the rug, you opened up an arm of your blanket-cape for him. Sam, without comment, ducked under it, and you shuffled around for a minute to give his broader shoulders some fabric to work with. “All we can do for now is wait,” he told you, “so… whaddya wanna do?”

You put a bowl down in front of you and started splitting the pomegranate with your knife. “Chess again?”

Sam’s lip slanted in a frown. All his energy for smart stuff had been spent on the hunt today, so you weren’t all that surprised at his reluctance.

“Cards, then?” You guessed. Beads of rich red fruit started to fill your bowl, which Sam didn’t hesitate to sneak a hand into.

“There’s only so many rounds of Go Fish a guy can handle losing, _____,” Sam teased.

It was true. You’d obliterated him every round so far, the poor bastard.

Sam leaned into your side, filling your peripherals with his know-it-all smirk. “Unless you—”

“We’re done playing poker,” you said, having suffered your fair share playing against him. The emptiness of your wallet must’ve reflected in your voice, since Sam started snickering into his lap—and yeah, maybe the whole cute-shy-guy routine had worked on you, but knowing Sam he’d find a way to sneak the money he’d won out of you back into your bag. He was sweet that way. Evil, but sweet.

“Okay,” Sam wet his lips and wracked his brain. “...I could read my book to you. It’s the one I was telling you about—”

“—with the corrupt cops in L.A,” you filled in. Separating the pomegranate seeds from their core was bloody work with your knife, so when the natural halves of it were happily in the bowl you picked the rest apart with purple-stained fingers.

“Uh-huh. And we’re at a part I think you’d find pretty interesting, all the crazy trial stuff.” Sam shrunk into his shoulders a little bit, then added in a quiet voice, “If you, y’know. If you want.”

Hmm. You swiped the book from Sam’s other hand, the planes of his fingers making brief, electric contact with yours. A sharp flash of heat whipped through your belly, sizzling through your nerves. It took a bit for you to refocus, but the pause made you look like you were some deep scholarly person really inspecting the back cover, which Sam seemed to appreciate. You took care not to get any fruit stains on the pages. When you turned to pass it back to him, Sam was rubbing his bruised knuckles into his sleepier eyes. How he could keep reading after staring at nothing but old newspapers all week, you had no clue.

You reeled the book back toward you. “...How about I read it to you?”

Sam froze, considering this. He considered it so long that you could watch his cheeks color in real-time, the same red they’d been in the snow, until he broke out of his trance and managed a warm, surprised sort of smile.

“Okay,” Sam melted.

“C’mere, lawboy,” you decided on a whim, and pat the top of your thigh. True to form, Sam took his permission and ran with it, twisting shyly to lay on his side and prop his cheek on your leg. “Lemme impress you with all the big words I know how to say.”

Sam chuckled, and it was the kind of laugh that told you just how many weird law words were about to trip you up. It was also the kind of laugh you could feel, rumbly and real through your leg, which was. It was. It was something. He got comfortable, curling a lazy arm around your knee and using you as a proper pillow.

You really should’ve put more thought into having Sam this close. Like, really should’ve, since he’s so big and warm that it has you running on nothing but instinct, and your first impulse having Sam in your lap is to go straight for that gorgeous hair.

You take the lock Sam’s been messing with all day and tuck it behind his ear, just because his head is there and you need a damn place for your hand to rest. Right. A deep and draining sigh airs out of Sam’s nose being touched like that, and you start to wonder if this was something he’d masterminded. He seeps into your lap like he’d been chasing this all day, all week, and something about it makes you feel special in ways no one else could manage.

You open to the page Sam left off on and start to read. Sam doesn’t move an inch, laying statue-still in your lap. He only moves to sneak pinches of pomegranate seeds. Stiff as he is, he’s there, the furnace you’ve relied on for the last few days to keep warm. You get through a few chapters this way, Sam pausing you every ten seconds to explain something or hum or snootily translate some lawyer-speak for you. The whole time you do an excellent job of keeping your hands to yourself. Ever since Sam’s comment from yesterday, the little pieces you’ve gotten of him have made you greedy. Click.

The fire and the candlelight create a perfect bubble of heat on the otherwise icy floor, so it doesn’t take long for Sam to go from resting in your lap to downright oozing across it. From your point of view he’s nothing but a mop of shining hair and a big hand curled around your knee. His presence seeps into you as much as his warmth does, and after so long it’s almost overwhelming to taste someone else’s vulnerability this way. Click click. You’re reminded of how much you care about Sam, and how long it’s been since you’ve been allowed that. There was something about him that would always be worth protecting. Maybe it was how fucking good he smelled.

“Doctor Janen’s contributions to the investigation, especially her knowledge of luminol, were,” you trailed off, “were…”

Sam’s breathing had evened out in your lap. Or, you thought it had, until his posture shifted under the sweater he was wearing. He rolled out of your lap and onto his hands with a reluctant groan. Tired as he was, Sam was always capable of being a smartass. “D’you know what luminol is?”

“Yes, detective,” you scoffed, maybe a teensy bit disappointed that he’d left your lap. The outline of his touch on your thigh burned like a heat beacon. “Should I go back and read the last few paragraphs, or was that you just pretending to sleep?”

Sam rubbed at his face, like it was possible to physically scrub the sleep from it. He sat up next to you, blinking slowly to get his bearings, and for no logical reason your heartbeat built to an ear-ringing throb in your chest. You were completely alone with him. For once, you had Sam all to yourself. Soft shadows kissed his arms and hands and neck. He was made up of nothing but full endless sloping lines, a charcoal sketch come to life.

“I was restin’ my eyes,” he sassed. “We should stay sharp through tonight, though. Stay up. I can take the first shift, since you’ve taken the last three.”

You didn’t miss the little nod to your sleeping habits. Which meant Sam had also laid awake long enough to know you hadn’t fallen asleep until late, which meant he’d laid awake next to you. In bed. Thinking with that big brain of his. It made your own big brain run around in crazy circles, chasing whatever conclusions he might come to.

You stole a glance at the nearest window. The salt lines were laid neatly on its sil, on the off chance boarding up the glass turned out to be useless. “That’s okay. I’m not exactly tired yet.”

Sam popped a few pomegranate seeds into his mouth, humming in thought. “Then it’d probably be smartest to keep each other up.”

“Samuel!” You gasped. He froze mid-chew, confused, and remained confused until you started poking him and laughing. “I’d expect a line like that from your brother, but never from you.”

You were a tease-first-ask-questions-later kind of person, so you understood Sam’s particular brand of banter and how he liked to respond to yours. Typically, you’d annoy him with a playful little taunt and Sam would let you know you were funny by calling you a jackass. You waited for Sam to hear your line and brush you off as an idiot. Instead, he did something much more interesting: he got defensive.

“I meant stay up like, like talking,” he sputtered. “I would never—y’know. I wouldn’t. Do, uh. Do that. Why don’t we keep up our question game from before? It’s, it’s your turn, right?”

“Okay. What was your first time like?”

Well. Shit.

This was the fastest question that either one of you had managed to whip out all week, and that fact hung so obviously in the air that you could feel it between you and Sam on the floor. It dropped so hard in the middle of the conversation that it shut you both up, silencing Sam’s sputtering and veering your train of thought to a shrieking, sparking halt. Sam was smart. His big brain would put together—had probably already put together—that you’d thought about asking him this. He might even be smart enough to intuit why you’d been itching to bring this subject back up, and for the first time in your life you prayed that Sam was the dumbest, most thick-headed man to ever hunt with you.

He did a great impression of someone less clever than himself. “Like. The first time I…?”

You chewed a few pomegranate seeds. “Uh-huh.”

“...Right.” Sam registered. He conveniently decided to fixate on the fire instead of you, which should’ve helped your sanity, if that was even possible anymore. The bulb of his nose and the swell of his lip curved just perfectly in profile, made even prettier by the firelight. God.

You panicked. “If that makes you uncomfortable—”

Sam swallowed. “No, no. You’re okay. Just thinking.”

You bit down on your tongue. Oh, awesome. Thinking! Exactly what I want you to be doing right now!

Sam swiped two sweaty, corded hands down each of his thighs. Tucked his hair behind his ears. Made your belly flutter and twist like a huge gust of wind going through a spring-fresh tree.

“I was seventeen,” Sam cleared his throat. “We were in Utah—well, I was in Utah, Dad and Dean were… Whatever. But I was sort of, um, on this rebellious streak at the time.”

You lazed back on your hands. “So, in hunter-kid terms, counting the days til’ you’re eighteen and packing your rucksack?”

An abrupt laugh barked out of Sam. His gaze loitered on your face with renewed comfort, remembering, again, that you’d both hidden your acceptance letters where no parent could see them. This was another Sam-move you knew the steps to.

“Yeah,” his eyes glittered. “Exactly.”

(The day you met Sam, the one reference you’d made to your associate’s degree had him crossing his legs under the table. He’d asked in a husky, tight voice what you’d gone to school for. Just hearing the words folklore and mythology had the guy close to pitching a tent.)

Sam managed to take his eyes off you. “But, uhm. There was this girl at school my Dad had ordered me not to hang around, so… I hung around. After a school dance. In her car.”

You were a very mature adult who was not at all jealous of a teenage Utahn, and thus sculpted your face into something playful. “Dirty,” you snickered. Sam’s light smile was encouraging, so you said as an afterthought, “Sounds like a squeeze, though. Don’t know if I’d want my first time to be in a car.”

“Especially in a tiny, cramped Nissan,” he agreed, chuckling. The smidgen of regret in his voice shouldn’t have made you feel like you’d earned a point against Random Utah Girl, but it did. You scolded yourself for it (your imaginary point gripped in one fist).

It was now Sam’s turn to ask a question, and he asked it fast. Impressively fast. “Okay, so. No car. Where would you want your first time to happen, then?”

Though you were an absolute animal when it came to Go Fish, your empty wallet was proof enough that you were a lousy poker player—due to an even lousier poker face. Hearing Sam’s question, it did you no favors. Even before you’d formed any thoughts about… everything, your body knew its answer, pointing every delicate nerve in your body toward the open doorway to the cabin’s bedroom.

You flicked a glance at the warm, intimate darkness waiting for you there.

It was only a second. But that one look was enough. Your hand was exposed, and Sam, by comparison, was an excellent poker player.

In a rush, you scrambled to put some distance between yourself and your obviousness. You winced. No way out. “Uhh, anywhere cozy. For the first time, I dunno if I’d wanna be cramped in a closet or something, no matter how sexy it may be. Is it lame to say… a bed?”

Sam hummed. As you’d talked, he’d become more and more relaxed in front of the fire, lounging on a propped-up arm and picking out of the fruit bowl. There was a long silence from him that could’ve been the weighted silence before a judge’s verdict.

…You’d never seen a judge draw his hand up to his mouth, suck pomegranate juice from the pads of his fingers, then pull off them with a noisy pop, but. But maybe they took a different approach at Stanford.

“It’s the standard for a reason, right?” Sam shrugged, amused.

He pushed the bowl across the floor with his wrist instead of his spit-slick fingers. It made a hollow scraping sound that brought your head back to the conversation, thank god, since the last seconds of your life post-fingers-to-mouth action had been spent elsewhere. The specific “elsewhere” that entailed Sam’s thick-knuckled fingers and Sam’s pretty pink mouth. You’d had the occasional intrusive thought about men creep up on you before, but the tricky part was that those thoughts pushed their way in. They jolted into your life then jolted back out.

Single-handed, Sam had hooked you, reeled you in, and pulled you “elsewhere.” Keyword: pulled. Not pushed.

…Then… maybe… pulled you again. And pushed you back. And again. Pulled out, then pushed in. Pulllled out slow, only to ssssink back in, deeper than before. Pulling and pushing with rhythm. Pulling, pushing, faster, deeper. Making you gasp and yelp his name, his fingers—Sam’s fingers—digging into your waist, your belly—

Click. Click click click click click click.

“_____?”

You’re so self-conscious you think you could feel the individual atoms of your body clanging against each other. “...Uh-huh?”

It’s your turn to ask a question next. But Sam breaks the rules and speaks first, since he knows exactly what he wants to ask you. He glides up onto one hand, his whole body a twenty-page study of lanky coyness, and tilts in close to you.

“If you could lay it all out—the timing, the place, the person…” Sam’s face glittered with a poker player’s curiosity. “What would your perfect first time be like?”

Or: Give me the manual, and I’ll follow it.

Your mouth was watering. It was one of a million things making it impossible for you to speak right now, including the sudden, nigh-unbearable heat of the room under your collar, and, oh right, the metric fuckton of slick soaking your underwear. The speed at which your arousal hits you is enough to make you dizzy, and in the haze you swear you start to hear something. Click. Click. Click click click click click click click—

Fuck. Sam is waiting for an answer. Fuck.

“I guess I’ve never thought about it before.”

Which was a blatant lie, since you’d spent the last ten minutes thinking of nothing else. Sam either sensed you weren’t telling the truth or was looking for something more, because he let you linger in your own answer, prying the rest out of you with his hanging silence.

Really, you should’ve been tougher, but the first long breath without anything from him shredded your strength. You caved and filled the quiet.

“I mean,” you toyed with your hands in your lap. “No matter what, I’d want it to be special. Bein’ out on the road, marching around, that’s not really a luxury we’re allowed to have. It’s like you said yesterday. I wanna be with someone I’m connected to, and I don’t think that’s gonna be in the back of a bar or—”

“—in a stranger’s bed,” Sam softened with understanding. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” You echoed. The fire crackled and popped, loud enough that you could use the sound as an excuse to look elsewhere. “And if I happened to find that person, they’d have to be in the life. We can only trust other hunters, nowadays.”

Sam snorted. “If we’re lucky, maybe.”

It disappointed you how much you had to agree with him. There used to be a sense of mutual understanding among the hunters you’d met, but something had shifted since you were little. The world was a much scarier place, and the hunters that’d survived to see it had darkened to meet it. You’d dodged all shades of skeevy, selfish people before you’d landed in the Impala’s backseat. Even Dean and Sam had colored the list of hunters you’d been warned to avoid. Of course, every inch of it had turned out to be triple-hand gossip. Maybe you were quick to judge or the boys were just good seeds in a shitty crop, either way, ending up with them was the kind of good luck that beat the devil.

You’d never had the chance to tell Sam that before.

“I dunno. Not to go all mushy on you, but I do feel pretty lucky.”

Sam indulged you with an inviting tilt of his head, impressed that either one of you had a sliver of luck between you. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. This last year, before I joined up with you n’ Dean, there wasn’t a single living soul out there I thought was worth putting my faith in,” you said, easing your mushy confession onto him under the guise of fact. Sam couldn’t digest it any other way. “I’m really grateful you changed that for me. It feels—it feels good to trust people. To feel like somebody knows you.”

Sigh. The side of your personal bubble filled with nothing but Sam started to seep with quiet, disbelieving fondness, and you could tell because Sam was giving you the eyes. The eyes. The ones that people brought out their wallets for and sent girls like you into romantic psychosis.

You dared to face them head-on, which was a reckless idea (probably brought on by romantic psychosis). Sure enough, his gaze was big and soulful and heart-rending. Sam was sitting so close now that you could almost soak up his body heat. The biting wind wormed its way through the thin walls and the fire was fading with it, but Sam oozed magnetic warmth by comparison. Stuff-your-face-in-his-neck kind of warmth.

“Do you feel like…” Sam rasped. He brushed the flats of his knuckles down your arm, breaking that final touch barrier. “...like I really know you?”

Your entire nervous system implodes with fluttery feelings. It’s just two fingers, brushing soft down your arm through your sweater, but. It’s confirmation. It’s Sam’s yes, I want this, and it puts into perspective how the two of you have spent the last week: alone together. Curled as one shape in bed. Talking just loud enough for only the other to hear, and never an octave higher. Never more than a few feet apart. If you reached for Sam first you knew he’d accept your hand, your boots in his bootprints, but when he coasts his palm down the swell of your shoulder it’s him reaching out for you.

You reach right back. You curl a hand up to cover his hand with yours, those big doe eyes asking that same question on repeat. Do you think I know you? Do you trust me? Do you want this?

“All I’ve got is me, you, and Dean. And it wasn’t him that I told all my deepest hopes and shittiest moments to,” you laughed. “So…”

Every other time you’ve hit this point, you’d been distracted by the logistics and the math of sex—protection, chemistry, the when and how, and the consequences of both. It’s not gonna hit you until two days after this moment, after Sam has you as many times as you want in the plush cabin bed, that there was no math with him. Just want. Just things sliding into place. Click click click.

“So…” Sam’s face tips even closer. Your head fogs with the heat and smell and presence of him, mesmerized.

He puts it all together for the two of you: “Your perfect first time would be with a hunter, somebody in the life that you trust. Somebody who could make you feel special. Somebody who really knows you.”

You smirk before you can stop yourself. “Do I need to drop any more hints, Sam?”

Damn, could that boy put a fireworks show to shame. He lit up. Sam’s shoulders did this really cute boyish swell and his lips parted, telegraphing with every piece of himself, Oh, you really want this, you really want me!

You’d never seen him wear that kind of happiness before, and it made sense why. Thank god the two of you were off the grid out here, because you didn’t doubt that Sam’s smile could pop every lightbulb in the entire country.

Sam aimed a bubbly laugh at his lap, embarrassed. “I don’t think I’m getting the full picture,” he tried to flirt, “a few more, maybe?”

So, getting less and less subtle as you went on, you explained to Sam the hypothetical author of the night of your life. He’d be sweet. Polite. Smart, too, but not the type to rub it in your face. (This made Sam laugh). He’d be gentle and considerate and frankly fucking awesome, but not so shy that he couldn’t give you a wild time.

When he was blushing so hard you stopped needing the fire for warmth, you sprinkled one last handful of flattery on him. “And, jesus,” you whistled, “this guy I’m picturing? Total dreamboat. So pretty it makes me wanna write dumb songs about him.”

Predictably, Sam got so flustered that he went back to futzing with that same strand of hair by his ear. With the touch barrier between you broken, your mind buzzed with a million different ways to reach out and feel him, to draw him in, and all those ideas coalesced seeing Sam’s hand come up to his cheek. Before you lost your resolve, you stroked the messiest portion of his bangs behind his ear for him. Sam melted. He liked to do that around you.

“Now I’d just sound arrogant if I assumed that it’s me,” Sam snorted.

You pressed the flats of your knuckles down Sam’s warm, smooth cheek. “It’s you. It’s been you for a while, actually.”

The easy, loving contact dazed him. Sam’s eyes fluttered closed, and a short, shaky breath puffed out of him in one bracing go. It was clear that he hadn’t been touched this way in a while. He sat there absorbing your touch for a long time, a cat resting his head in the full scope of your palm. You turned your body to face his and Sam’s gaze, which was layer after layer of hazels no artist could mimic, opened for you.

You thought about saying something cheesy like, wow, ain’t I lucky, having the whole world in the palm of my hand, but Sam was much faster (and much, much cheesier).

A leather-tough hand scooped around the back of your neck. The touch was fucking-christ-big and god, so was he, the line of his thumb to his wristbone as long as the length of your neck. You knew this because that’s exactly where Sam placed it, stroking your chin with his thumb. Prickling chills tickled up your legs. He scrutinized you—and you say scrutinize loosely, since the Sam-equivalent was gazing into your face like a fatal decision was held there. Your mental yes, yes, I want you was so loud that Sam could’ve psychically heard it. If he did, it was enough to make his pupils become huge pools of want.

“C’mere,” Sam grinned.

You laughed. “M’ practically nose to nose with you, Sam, I don’t have any further to—”

The rest of your teasing was lost to a louder yelp. Sam scooped his arms around your middle and. And hauled you. Into his lap.

His—lap.

There was no way to survive this landing. You were plopped right on top of his barrel-wide thighs, your every sense instantly stuffed full to bursting with every wonderful thing that made Sam himself. A steam of woody body wash and aftershave put you under his spell. Two massive hands soothing down your back glued you happily in place. Sam’s warm chuckles seeped through his chest and into your hands, because, oh yeah, you were allowed to touch him. And there was so much of him to touch now, too. The entire front of your body was cozily smushed up against his firm, longer frame, filling your hazy vision with the soft shadows on his throat and collarbones and those fucking dimples. What the fuck.

“Is this okay?” Sam asked you.

The only time you’d been permitted in another person’s space like this was to hug them. Overwhelmed with choice—you could kiss him, touch him, run your fingers through his hair this close—you defaulted to what you knew. Sam hesitated, but with a breath, the coil of his body unwound and the two of you slid together with a satisfying smush. (Or maybe a click).

Oh my god that’s good, your senses wailed, but all you could manage with your face muffled in his neck was, “Warm. Sooo warm, Sammy.”

“Is that a yes?” He hoped.

You pulled your face out of his shirt to sigh. “The biggest yes of your life.”

Sam gleamed. Being so close to the source of all happiness on earth (the toothy grin he was biting back for your benefit) should’ve instantly pulverized you and every other hot-blooded being on this side of the planet. It should’ve. But your soul was still ringing around in your feeble body, and sure enough, your calves were still snug around Sam’s thighs like they’d been before. You’d survived being inches away from Sam’s face while he smiled all shy for you, and succeeded in feeling only a teeny bit like a pile of smoking ash because of it. For a second you tricked yourself into thinking you could survive him.

That is not the case.

With impeccable timing, Sam kisses you. Just a brief, firm peck on the mouth. Testing the waters. The waters that are now a fucking ocean in your underwear, thank you very much. It’s only a two-second kiss, but the instant Sam’s lips pop off of yours an embarrassing happy squeal follows him out. Definitely not the suave reaction you were expecting from yourself. Sam just laughs, which translates as a sexy hum under your free hand.

“That was cute,” he whispers, eyes crinkling.

“Shut up, Sam.”

He hums, still brimming with that big spoiled grin. He takes you by your prickling arms and starts to pull his hands down them, again and again, squeezing the anxiety out of you in huge handsy swaths. You feel a bit better about being such a nervous wreck. His hands are trembling too.

The first kiss was good. Really good. Wetter, warmer than you were expecting, but so fucking—good. His mouth was soft and stained by the pomegranate, but, oh no, you’re already forgetting what it was like to taste him. It’s so tempting… to just… lean in…

He’s just as tempted. Sam meets you in the middle for a second kiss that he finds so satisfying, so right that this deep rumbling moan purrs right out of him. The pink swell of his lips are, of course, pressed hot to yours, filling you head to fucking toe with that single bassy note. You gasp through your nose—because nothing is worth breaking his kiss. Not a desperate breath of air, not an uttered word.

Sam kisses you with his hands as much as he dazzles you with his mouth, laying heavy touches down your back, then your waist, then your legs, inspecting and absorbing. You’re hardly as methodical. He is a wonderful beach and it’s your first time seeing the ocean. You take the biggest fistfuls of him that you can, feeling the silky sand of him slip between your greedy fingers.

Sam is apparently into being your metaphorical beach, since after he’s done melting your brain and your underwear in the most intense make-out session of your life, he pulls away to speak.

Sam rasps. “Can I take care of you?”

It takes you a moment to respond, because. Well. A, that’s the sexiest way someone has asked to have sex with you, no contest, and B, you’ve been waiting this whole time for the moment where you don’t want this anymore. With other men, your body had just never found the spark that should’ve been there. Was this time different? Had things click click clicked into place?

You take a step back to put this in perspective for your future self. As vividly as you’re able, you think about having sex with Sam. You visualize Sam’s sharp eyes, his naked back, the cut of his hips, all of it, as he fucks you straight through the shitty mattress in the cabin’s bedroom. All the sweat-twisted blankets shoved to the floor. Sam’s hips canting your thighs apart. The worn-smooth slope of his—of his fucking paws, essentially, squeezing your tits and your tummy and your waist in achy handfuls. You think about it some more. How Sam would moan, how his lashes would screw shut in ecstasy as he filled you. You keep thinking about it. When your mind starts to deviate toward the filthy, thick sound of him… o-of Sam plunging into you over and over again, smushing you under his weight… uhm. Uh.

Yeah. Yeah, this is everything you fuckin’ want.

It takes conscious effort for you to close your gaping mouth, then pry it open again to blurt: “Please, yes.”

A tiny piece of his posture relaxed in relief. Sam smushed a cute, giddy peck into your cheek, reminding your entire tingling nervous system that there was a really sweet guy underneath the deadly-efficient hunter you knew.

“Okay,” he beamed, and shyly tipped his head toward the bedroom. “Shall we?”

You feel like you should be doing more than being demure and nodding a lot, but Sam doesn’t seem to mind. After you climb out of his lap and find your footing on your jellified legs, he unfolds off the floor like bucks do, knowing on instinct how to conduct the body he has so much of. The fire’s sleepy and weak in the hearth, and with it dead, Sam is the new center of heat in the room. He takes your hand and just touching the middle of his palm spurs shivery warmth down your legs. Now, you’re all too aware of Sam’s proportions—how encompassing his hand feels, how easily his shoulders fill the doorway to the little bedroom. Feeling mature, you fill the next room with bright giggles. You see in real-time how Sam melts at the noise.

Like you have the last few nights, you each scoop up a candle and find a place for it amidst the hunter clutter. It takes a beat to find your way through the dark. The space is just big enough for the slim bed pushed snug into the corner, and already you know from experience how you and Sam fit into the nest of blankets and pillows. (Hint: extremely well).

Sam uses his candle to light a few others on the bedside table, keeping a free hand stretched toward you to reserve his spot as your only hand-holder. You drop your candle on the dresser and consider the only thing next to it while you wait for him. The Winchesters had three vinyls total for their ancient record player, and seeing it unused and wasted in front of you, you have a stroke of romantic genius.

The second you drop the needle on the first jazz record and turn back toward the cozy, honey-lit room, Sam’s there, sliding into your open arms to plant a kiss on you. And another. And another. And another, coaxing little happy sighs from you. They’re such deep kisses that you dip back with each one, until the curve of Sam’s towering body is diagonal over you and you have to clutch his shoulders to stay standing. Both of his rough-sawn hands cup the scoop of your back to support you. All your daydreaming about him had convinced you that he’d be a head-to-toe brick wall, but Sam’s teddy-bear soft instead, the gleaming skin you have access to yielding and plush. His lips most of all, puffy pink and shining.

Sam persists, pressing closer, kissing you deeper, panting under his breath. Whatever it is about the happy sounds you make wake up something dark in him. There’s a tight, delicate rhythm he likes to follow, and the more of Sam you get the less of it you see. That straight-arrow persona is there, and then—poof! Sam’s tongue is laving wet and hot and perfect across your parted lips, ruining your underwear in one fell swoop.

He tilts in to start sucking on your tongue—

“Fuck, Sam,” you choke out.

The situation in your panties graduates to unbearable levels. If you have to makeout with Sam fully clothed for even a second longer, you think your core will enter a full reactor meltdown. You try to get the words across, grabbing helplessly at his sweater and whining, but Sam interprets it as something else.

“Everything okay?” He worries.

Dazed, you nod more than you need to. With your eyes open and his face in full view, you’re hit with a spark of self-consciousness. Sam fills the bedroom with easy conviction, owning his desire in a way you’ve never really been capable of. You don’t exactly have the experience to blow his mind or anything. Why would he want this if there was so little in it for him? Sam wasn’t a selfish guy, but… To you, your eagerness starts to feel more like greediness.

You shift from foot to anxious foot, shrinking in place. “...Could you, um? Walk me through it? How we’re gonna…?” You swallowed the frog in your throat. “Sorry, that must seem stupid.”

Leave it to him to make something stupid into something ridiculously, fatally sexy.

“S’okay, don’t be embarrassed. It’d…” Sam wets his lips, looking for the words. A quiet, dirty-minded smile plays across his face. He decides, “It’d be my pleasure.”

His touch moves away from your back, and you’re about to mourn the loss of it until Sam’s hands start to play with yours, twisting them around in his own like a schoolboy. He closes the space you’ve timidly left open between you by pressing your chests together. It’s a small gesture. But this is Sam, so your face is in smolders on that alone. (…And you’d just been french kissed, to be fair).

“Okay. Uhh,” Sam fumbles. He stops to consider his approach. As in, the approach he’ll take to seducing you, as if you aren’t seduced on a level incomprehensible to humankind.

You can’t help but laugh at how much Sam-math must be happening in his head, and Sam laughs too. Sam keeps laughing, until it warms into a handsome, knowing hum, and suddenly he’s laying your hands on his belt and tickling your ear with the hot fan of his breath. You squeak, sensitive, which tempts him into breaking character.

Sam reigns it back in, then whispers.

“When you’re ready… m’ gonna get you out of these clothes.”

The deliciously big set of hands on your waist sidle up under the open strip of skin below your shirt. Just one of his fingers is brave enough to sneak up to draw circles against your tummy. It’s the slightest taste of what it’ll be like to have those hands all over you, sweat-slick skin-to-naked skin, which is just enough to make your appetite for him boil in your gut.

“And I know you’re gonna be freezin’, we both are, but I promise you’ll get real hot real soon. Cause’...”

The bulb of his nose (and the ghost of his smile) brushed your cheek, then down, and the explosive fluttery feeling already lighting up your belly pitches into a whole fireworks show.

“...The minute I see you lying all pretty on your back for me…”

Sam tips in to lay a kiss on your throat. A slow, open-mouthed kiss, suckling soft on your skin.

“...In our bed…”

Our bed, he says. That choice of words alone implies so much. If the two of you sharing it before didn’t count, then Sam was about to make it your bed.

“I’m not stopping til’ you get every single thing you want,” Sam purrs. His kisses become blatant licks, the whole of his capable tongue drawing wet lines on your throat. “Til’ you’re damn spoiled.”

What. The fuck. The universe could dissolve into mist and you would be too turned on to care, tethered to the last atoms of the earth by your hands on Sam’s belt. You gape up at him. Sam, the evil genius, smirks right back. When you’d said you wished your first time could feel special, you hadn’t exactly been planning for Sam to follow that direction to the damn letter. He makes it sound like he’s going to bend to your every whim, and knowing Sam...

You swipe at your face to check that you’re not drooling. “I’m—I-I—you’re—” while you’re sputtering, he swipes a dab of spit off the other corner of your lip. “—Suh-Sam.”

Screw it. You drop both hands on Sam’s chest and twist your fingers in his shirt, forcing the words out in choppy pieces. “I’m not as experienced as you. But I really, really… want this. To be—to be good for us. Wanna give you everything you want, too.”

Sam makes a flattered, yet sympathetic face. “Oh, baby, don’t think about me—”

“—I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Now, it’s Sam’s turn to forget how to speak. Finally.

You wind your fingers into the tuft at the back of his neck, enunciating, “How… do I make this good for you?”

“You’re already here. That’s all I need,” Sam gushes, falling back on his tender chivalrous boyfriend routine. It’s really sexy. Almost sexy enough to work. He tucks back his signature lock of unruly hair, blushing from his ears to his neck.

Well, stream-of-consciousness hasn’t failed you yet.

“Uh-uh. We’ve been alone together in this teeny cabin for a whole week. There’s no way I’m the virgin, but you’re the one without the dirty fantasies.” You take a long squinting look at him to divulge any loose secrets. Thumbing Sam’s hip through his shirt, you press, “Tell me. C’mon. You want me to blow you? Pull your hair? Or do you, I dunno—wanna bite me? Pin me down?”

You can track the second Sam starts breathing harder, but somewhere between then and now his eyes have glazed over with dangerous desire.

Sam clutched fast at his shrinking sliver of self-control. “Okay,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere. So… if it feels right, and it’s not embarrassing, it would be… I’d, I’d love it if you…”

“Got super noisy?”

After an intensely bashful pause filled with quiet music, Sam nods, hiding behind his bangs. Knew it. He always got so squirrely when you did your oh-I’m-so-cozy moan snuggling into bed at night.

Teasing him any more would definitely be poking the bull. But is it fun to poke that bull? Absolutely. Especially when Sam starts to unbuckle his belt, his whole body crawling with the urge to throw himself at you.

“Alright, I can do that. But how noisy are we talking? Like, normal enjoying myself kind of noisy, or best-sex-of-my-life noisy?”

He gets this nasty, disbelieving smile on his face, and it’s your last warning before—

Snap. Sam’s restraint splits in two. In an instant you’re captured by the underarms and Sam, who’s honest-to-god grinning/snarling about how you need ta’ be taught a lesson on leavin’ well enough alone, flings you onto the end of the bed. You land with a shriek. Then a second, louder squeal, as Sam takes your pantlegs in his fists and whips them clean off.

The next precious moments are filled with all sorts of lessons. For one thing, it takes a lot of force to tear pants off a person. By happenstance, you’re dragged a whole foot further down the bed and right against Sam’s lap. You also learn that pants are connected to underwear, so following that math, it makes sense why your panties are now royally rearranged on your hips. These two factors are too convenient to not be planned on Sam’s part. You’re reminded, again, that Sam is a genius.

You also remember that you’ve never been pantsed before. With and without the sexy context. Keeping that in mind, you, like any other person in your delicate situation, snap your legs closed on instinct. Not because you don’t want Sam there—holy shit, do you want him there—but because he happened to tickle you in the transfer from floor to bed, and you’re not about to let him pounce on you and tickle you to death.

This really works out for you in the long run, since having your legs closed means that it’s inevitable Sam will have to open them.

You’re laughing so hard that your sides have locked up with stitches. Sam pretends he’s not just as amused by kneeling up on the bed as grouchily as possible, ripping his shirt off, and… and, uhm… scooping his huge palms under your knees, and… yeah. He doesn’t have to do any pushing past that. Your legs just fall right open for him, and Sam wiggles in between them where he belongs.

Nothing in this entire world could prepare you to have Sam this close, so the idea that you could even cope with being absolutely towered over by the indecent amount of ab he possesses is fuckin’ laughable. Who the fuck let him have abs? For the health of all people attracted to men on this planet, who taught Sam to work out?

Your giggling trails off into mesmerized, panting silence.

“How noisy?” Sam scoffs, chuckling mean and deep in his chest. “How noisy? I’ll give you a hint how noisy you’re gonna be—”

He falls forward onto his hands, effectively blanketing you in a swath of flushed-smooth, freckly skin. There’s not a thought in your mind about how cold this room is in comparison to the last. Your hands smooth over the planes of his cheeks on instinct, and Sam follows the touch into a soul-shattering, full-body, toe-curling kiss that melts both your bodies into the homey center of the quilts and comforters. His nose squishes into your cheek and a long, satisfied groan bubbles out of him. He barely pulls his lips from yours when he hisses—

“...I’m gonna fuck you til’ you’re hoarse.”

What in the ever-loving fuck.

I cannot put into words how much I want you to do that, you want to say, and it’s true, since you end up making the world’s neediest gasp of glee instead. You’re not pleading up into his face for a full second before Sam gets your message. One can only guess what he’ll do next. (Hint: Sam cannot take in a full breath without kissing you first).

All week you’ve been toiling away to earn tiny pieces of the Sam puzzle. The picture you’ve built so far is, frankly, a touch-starved animal, who will wait at the heels of the first trusted person willing to provide. You kiss Sam once and he’s so damn grateful that he’ll multiply it by five. You get adventurous with your hands, squeezing and appreciating Sam’s flushed-smooth back. Because he’s Sam, returning the favor takes precedence over his beloved activity, and your kiss is forced to break so he can sit up and touch you proper.

Well. If any of this can be considered proper, that is. And if there’s one word to describe what Sam does to you with his hands, it’s improper.

“Still ready, _____?” He asks.

You bite back your inner worries and taunt him, “Been ready.”

He splays his fingers on your belly and is so transfixed by its softness that he stoops to smudge a kiss above your belly button. You do your best to pretend it doesn’t tickle, which is the opposite of what Sam wants. He gives your sides two quick pinches that have you squirming and squeaking under him, too shy to keep your eyes open. You’re embarrassed about the girly sounds he gets out of you until you risk a look at his face—plum red, dizzy, and glazed with fond desire.

Sam wasn’t kidding. He does want you at your noisiest.

This brings your horniness to a whole new level, turning the airy fluttery feeling expanding in your belly into the opposite: an emptiness, a vacuum, and one that desperately needs to be filled. Sam seems to do nothing but fill things. The doorways he stands in, the beds he kneels on, the snuggly center of your embrace. Naturally, this makes you insane. His hands fill up the most—big swaths of your belly, your shirt—your bra.

They push the band of the hunting sportsbra you’re wearing clear over your tits and out of his way. Sam rumbles in approval.

You stop your hands from twitching up around your naked chest, now hyper-aware of how much your breasts rise with your breath. Sam breathes you in. His gaze is soft beyond imagination, which makes the whittled-down shards of fear inside you seem even sillier than before. Either he reads your mind or he’d predicted you’d be mousy (and christ do you hope it’s the latter, since that means he thought about this already), because Sam plucks up your closest hand and presses it flat to his happy trail.

“Don’t be nervous,” he soothes. “Touch me too.”

The thought alone explodes you into steam. But you’re no quitter, so you roll with the invitation, stroking the soft pads of your fingers along the line from Sam’s naval to his ill-fitting jeans. He’s not flexing for you, so you get to feel him as Sam really is: butter-smooth and blanket-soft. Without his belt there’s a precious gap hanging between his hips and his waistband. It’s just big enough for your hand to fit inside.

You’re not brave enough to take that final plunge until Sam twists down to kiss your chest. His mouth burns scorching hot on your breastbone, and as he curls over your body, his hands on your belly slide up to take two needy handfuls of your tits. In the same motion you fit your hand into Sam’s jeans and squeeze and—ohhh fuck, you wind in as one, sharing a perfect bow-taut moment of hissing pleasure.

Sam pressed his face where he was kissing, deflating on top of you with a long, seeping, “Shittt.”

Okay. On top of feeling good, sex could be a fun little puzzle to put together. Sam urging his hips into your hand was one piece, and if you put it in the right place (i.e: touched him like that again), he’d be all yours. You do. You cup him through his boxers and follow what you feel, and what you feel is. Fucking. It’s. I-is it supposed to be that big? And, and holy shit, is he hard.

Sam. Sam’s big, thick dick in your hand. You’re gonna be wet for damn weeks.

Stupified, you blurt out, “Do you always get this hard?”

Sam cracks a wry grin, his eyes lidded. “Mm. It’s definitely you. Bein’ stuck out here with you.”

He drops a kiss on the seam of your ribcage. Then lower. And lower, leaving shiny wet circles along your tummy. “Makin’ me crazy… sticking by me every second, pressing yourself into me in your sleep. Lookin’ at me like—like that.” Just thinking about it made Sam shiver. “You turn me on like nothing else. Just last night, even, right here in this bed—I must’a stopped myself from rolling you over and tasting you a hundred times.”

The urge was so vivid for him that Sam’s mouth must’ve been watering, since he sucks the spit back through his teeth before he starts to kiss your belly in earnest. Just that sound burns with lust. Sam wants it, wants you so bad he’s shaking, his hands trembling under your thighs as he slithers down to lay between them. His kisses grow fiercer, open-mouthed and sucking the closer he gets to your panties. Kitten-soft moans start to sneak into the cycle of your panting.

“Don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop myself this time,” Sam husks.

You let him know just how comfortable you are with that by curling your legs around his back. Then his shoulders. Then Sam’s ears, and at that point he’s singeing spit-damp kisses inside your thighs like the world’s most faithful servant.

Nobody but him had ever touched you there. You choke out his name on short, needy breaths. It’s like you’re filling a meter. With enough please, Sams, you hit his limit, and he stops rubbing his face into your soft under-thighs long enough to hook his fingers around your waistband.

You’re treated to the Sam Winchester specialty. He bats long lashes at you over dark, sensitive eyes, and rasps, “Am I okay to…?”

You’re so horny that you start spurring Sam closer with your heels. “Fucking yes.”

This is the A+ answer. Sam doesn’t even wait to get your underwear all the way down your legs, yanking them out from under you and ducking straight below the bridge they make. Just seeing your pussy makes him swear. You’re so swollen and slick and his mouth is so close, so close, but Sam decides to taunt you, blowing across the spit cooling on your belly instead. Heat oozes in hazy lines from his body. From his hands. By comparison, the night has leeched the warmth from the room and you’re cold enough to get goosebumps.

“Please please please, Sam,” you hiccup, “need it. Need you. Need you t’ warm me up.”

“My poor girl,” Sam coos, brows drawn with playful sympathy. He starts to rub some heat back into your freezing legs, tilting closer, closer. “I know just how to help.”

You let your head flop back as you take his cheesiness in, laughing. That’s not exactly a line you’d expect from him. Before, though, you would’ve never pinned Sam as the kind of guy to clamp your knees against your chest, drop his head between your legs and fit his mouth on you, slurping noisily on your slick like he’s eating the juiciest fruit of his life—

“���f-uuuuckkk Sammy yes yes yes—”

Indescribable pleasure pops and sizzles along your weeping core. It’s so fucking—fucking yes all at once that you clap down both hands to white-knuckle the top quilt and howl. Sam sets to work. He covers your entire pussy with his mouth, swallowing you fucking whole, apparently, since you’re the most delectable thing he’s ever tasted. You have to be, with Sam groaning and cursing all fierce and hot between licks.

“Fuck. That’s it, pretty girl,” Sam coaches. He slurps loud and obscenely on your clit, swallowing down the results with a shiver of ecstasy. “Shit, just like that. You’re so good at this already. So good at taking it, ______. Never should’a made you wait.”

But all that must not count as getting a full taste of you, since Sam deviates, splaying his tongue flat and wide to rake it against you top to bottom. His tongue almost drools with liquid heat. At first you’d been disappointed you couldn’t see him over your legs, and now, you’re grateful for the mercy. Seeing Sam like that…

Sam licks you open until there’s no breath left in him. He goes until his jaw is sore and your slick is rolling off his chin in sticky rivulets, wetting the bedspread. He goes and he keeps going, worshipping your slippery-wet cunt between huffy moans.

You make a pathetic attempt at giving as good as you’re getting, but what should be a sexy zinger actually comes out as, “Sam, I-I—oh, god—Sam—!”

After that, your ability to form words joins your other higher brain functions in the endless sparkling expanse of white in your mind. Sam stirs a single long finger through your sopping folds. The stimulation alone has your hips twisting helplessly up to his face, on top of the rapid flicks of his talented tongue, but it’s the easy pressure of Sam’s thick finger filling you to the knuckle that actually earns a scream.

Not your average horror movie scream—an honest, enthusiastic, belly-deep cry that jerks in your chest like a sob.

You can pinpoint the precise moment that Sam realizes you’re a screamer; he hum-laughs to himself where he thinks you can’t hear.

“Next time,” (oh my fucking god there’s a next time), “‘won’t make you wait a minute, baby. Gonna give you everythin’ you want. I’m real sorry, darlin’, do you forgive me? Forgive me for not fucking you the second we were alone?”

You’re too busy having actual, real tears of desire cake your cheeks to string together a better answer than a moan. Holy shit.

Sam gives your pussy two deep, loving licks, each hot enough to send you into a coma. “Say it,” he utters, teasing, “say you forgive me.”

“I forg’ve you,” you croak.

“Forgive who?” He presses.

“I forgive you, Sammy.”

“That’s my girl,” Sam husks the promise between kisses to your clit, “So good to me. So sweet.”

Somehow, this is just as life-altering for him as it is for you. Long, flowing crests of pleasure seep hot through your system, winding tighter, tighter, tighter, twitching in the muscles of your stomach and almost cramping in your curled toes. The taste of you is so rich that Sam’s back quakes with euphoric shudders, trembling deep under the skin where he’s too far gone to rein back in. Sweaty locks of his bangs flutter as he breathes. It’s the only sign he’s breathing at all, really, what with him eating you out like he’s fuckin’ starved.

Sam gives a few good twists of his finger deep in your pussy (which doesn’t even graze how deep he might be with his cock). When you’re a puddle on the mattress and used to him, Sam withdraws to studiously coach you, “Deep breaths, ______.”

It takes a moment for the words to register. Once they have, you wind down long enough to measure your crazed breathing into even strokes. The ceiling overhead swims with dancing candlelight shadows and floating cartoon stars. Sam lifts his head to see for himself that you’re following his instructions, and after he’s done falling in love with the sight of you, Sam fills you up with two digits instead of one.

“A-ah!”

Just like before, they’re thrust in to the hilt at once. The throbbing, aching, leeching core of your arousal positively explodes, the urge to be filled finally touched. Sam’s responding bassy groan vibrates all the way up your body. The length and thickness of his fingers is put to immediate use, stretching you out with long knuckling gestures. You’re so unimaginably wet that your pussy just pulls him right in.

There’s a pause where you wiggle down onto his hand and brace yourself for the next brain-melting touch, and true to form, Sam sails straight over your grandest expectations. He’s quick to find the silky heart of arousal in your core again. You only know it by reputation, not experience, so when Sam presses into it with two soft fingerpads the pitch of your wailing jumps up ten octaves. Suddenly the pleasure is hot hot hot inside-going-out.

Sam tilts his head to one side and finds the gall to ask you: “How does that feel?”

(He just wants to hear you say it.)

“So good,” you weep. “Please please please gimme more, Sam, please—”

“It’s gonna be okay, _____. I’ll make it all better…”

Only then does Sam’s tongue get back to work, and—and holy fucking shit, he swoops in to steal the gold, demolishing every other name in the pussy-eating game. Sam wins. Sam fucking wins.

If this is just how his fingers feel…

Sam’s grin takes on a confident gleam. By coincidence, it’s around then that you remember that he’s psychic.

Somewhere between licking you into the next dimension and, oh yeah, Sam licking you into the next dimension, he’s pinned your thighs to your chest with a firm hand under your knees. You squeeze that hand for all you’ve got, every feeble atom in your body scrubbed raw with perfect pulsing desire.

To think, you’d spent this whole time getting off with your hand. A fucking hand. A few fingers! Sam crooks his in a way you’d never even hoped for on your own, finding that fluttery, twitchy spot inside you and working it for all it has. You’d asked for more and he gives you more, thrusting two fingers in at a brutal, even pace—again and again and again, til’ you’re thrashing up and off the mattress, wailing, your whole body a fist cramping shut around him. You snap in so tight toward him that you shove your face into your knees and cross your ankles tight behind Sam’s neck, keening, the fire knotted in your body devouring whatever fuel he’ll give.

Sam’s skill with his hands made you feel like an amateur in your own department. But his slick velvet tongue on your slick velvet pussy, taking slow sucks on your clit that turn into big broad licks, licking you up, licking you into his mouth whole, made just the thought of masturbation fucking laughable. I mean, c’mon! What the fuck are you supposed to do after this? Pop into the bathroom to use the showerhead, when Sam and his insatiable appetite for pussy are sitting right in the next room? Why even bother fantasizing about him and dicking around with a vibrator when nothing would ever compare to the real thing, shoving his parched panting mouth between your legs in an addict’s haze?

Still lapping up your dripping core, Sam pries his free hand from your grip. You’re pretty sure you have the right to whine in protest. Without his leverage for support your weak thighs collapse straight open, and for all you know the gates of heaven had parted to reveal god’s most beautiful angel. Sam is the picture of filth. His pretty pink lips are sealed around your cunt, his nose is all cute and smushed into your pubic bone, and you watch in time with every dirty lap as his jaw rolls handsomely under his skin.

The look on his face is unfor-fucking-gettable. In fifty years, sixty years, seventy, you know this memory will still live inside you, since no man has ever looked at you that way before. You weren’t sure it was even possible. Hazy euphoria radiates in unending rays from Sam’s face. He wants you. He trusts you. He is written all over with warm, intent desire, satisfying himself on you.

“Stay still,” Sam asks, politely.

Politely, you slap back against the bed and moan out, “Mhhmm.”

A new kind of mischief flashes across his face. You would’ve never pinned Sam as the type of guy to thrive with an audience, but now that he knows you’re watching, he falls seamlessly into a performance. His act is a three-parter.

While keeping his pace with his fingers, Sam starts by sliding slow off your pussy and spitting on it even slower. Whatever hazel leftover in his eyes has been swallowed totally by glittering, black delight. The muscles is his arm bulge and cramp fucking into you so hard. Pleased with himself, Sam dips down, dark eyes disappearing under his bangs, and makes a show of pointing his tongue to flicker across the raw nerves of your clit.

There’s more after that in the finale of Sam’s act, but the constant, brutal winding toward your release has taken its final toll. You have no fucking clue how you’ve survived this long. The overpowering squeezes of arousal inside you become full-body, wracking pangs. The sweaty trembling scraps of your soul leftover from Sam’s work throb and throb until they’re a blinding star. At the center of it, your core, tight and hot and so loved by Sam’s mouth. The searing pleasure becomes explosive. Apparently, the noisy, pitchy moans waking up the mountainside are coming from you, as you claw to get Sam even a molecule closer—closer, closer, closer—s-so close—!

So…

Close…

And you’re there. In the shimmering, divine realm Sam has made just for you; the realm your meager hands could never bring you to, and the realm you’ll be chasing still for the rest of your life. It becomes blatantly obvious in the next blissful minute that you’ve never cum before. Not for real, at least. This was a real orgasm, flashing through your spirit and flowing hot and beautiful through the numb ends of your body. You wail through it like it’s real, that’s for sure.

Your pussy clamps down around Sam’s fingers in waves of slippery pressure, and he revels in every second of it. You’re fucked through it. Kissed through it. He keeps up his pace and smushes his face in close, and that’s when you realize, oh fuck, Sam is going to drink your glass empty. The soft scooping of his tongue ramps up and up and over, til’ the edges of your vision start to spot and your muscles are too tight to unknot and it’s all too much.

“Sa—Sam—”

Just that word has him off you. You think Sam draws back and away, but that’s just a guess, since the wires between you and the outside world have been fucked stupid. Even the language has been licked and lapped out of you.

“Sam…”

You feel… like soup. Wet all over and hot hot hot. Filling the shape of the bed. You make an honest attempt at communicating this to Sam as your soupy mind’s way of telling him how satisfied you are, but. Your pussy gives a delighted, distracting throb that melts you into the top quilt all over again. Wow.

Just. Wow. You marinate in the aftershocks for what feels like ages, speechless.

Down by your legs (so that’s where he went!), Sam peels his heaving chest off the bedspread. Right. If you couldn’t breathe, he definitely couldn’t either. He gets up on all fours and crawls towards you like a guy in an RnB music video, all sexy moving arms and hips. It really shouldn’t be as appealing as it absolutely is. Starry-eyed, you open lazy arms to him and haul him down the second he’s close enough. He falls on top of you with a happy oomf. He’s long and smooth and wonderful, making you sigh when he snuggles in.

A few sparkling millennia go by laying in bed with him, toying with his hair and giggling dazedly to yourself. Sam hides his blazing face in your neck and murmurs something.

You’re buzzed by the skin-to-skin contact and cum drunk, which puts everything he says into fuzzy empty speech bubbles. The low, shy rasp of his voice tickles your neck. You try again.

“...Uh-huh…?”

“Was, uh, that too intense? Or…?”

The question floats around in your head for a while, bumping into things and spinning in zero gravity. Finally, the lights in your ship start to come on, and you pull what Sam said out from space.

“Look at me a minute.”

Sam does, curious.

“How’d,” you struggled to find your breath, “how the hell’d you learn t’ do that.”

And suddenly, Sam’s high school shyness is on a man’s face, and that man licks your slick off his lip and suppresses an evil grin. “I have, y’know. A thing about it.”

“A thing?” You echo, laughing with him. Maybe if you said it again it wouldn’t blow your mind as much. “A thing. Try an addiction, Sam, holy shit.”

In a few days, you’re gonna have to act normal around him in a room with his brother, while Sam uses the lips he defiled you with to talk, drink, and smile. Fuck. For the rest of your life, you’re gonna have to sit beside him at the dinner table and remember how he told you had a thing for eating pussy. A thing.

Glowing with innocent humility, Sam pawed up onto his hands, rolled onto his side, and positioned himself like a pin-up girl inviting you to bed. When he was done broadcasting with his entire body how much he wanted you, Sam shrugged. “I dunno… I just love to do it.”

(Being stunned silent by Sam tally: one million and three.)

He’s not real. There’s no way he’s real. You grab around for some part of him to pinch, and though Sam’s indignant yelp sounds authentic, you’re unconvinced. They had to have cooked him up in a lab somewhere.

This earns you a deep, fond Sam laugh. He gives your closest hip a playful pinch too, and after a brief tickle-fight that you miserably lose, Sam tilts his lips toward yours and husks, “Roll over that way and c’mere.”

With nothing else to do but submit happily to Sam’s will, you follow his hand and tilt in toward the wall. “You are something else.”

You’re joking, but you can also kind of feel it. Sam slings his arm over your ribs to pull your back flush to his chest, and already you melt into each other, settling back into the hollows you made in the blankets the night before. This close you can feel the magic in him. Sam oozes with cozy bonfire heat, his body laying sure and protective against your body, the last dregs of hunt anxiety in him gone. You feel the worn-soft denim of his open jeans as Sam’s lap wiggles down to scoop under you. A map of what’s ahead.

He teases a hand down your ribcage, thumbing sweetly at your belly. Sam tilts his head forward for a kiss, and unable to resist him, you meet him in the middle for one that turns into two, then three, then a swath of obsessed pecks. He must have a thing about kissing, too.

Sam pulls back to study you. With less confidence than you’d expect, he asks, “You wanna keep going?”

Just the teeniest motion of your head has Sam swooping for the chance to kiss you again, but you stop him short and twist to get a better look at him. In a high, maidenly voice, you play at being confused. Your poker face is still awful, so you have to hide your massive grin behind the invisible handkerchief you’re clutching.

“Keep going? My, a gentleman like you… an unmarried woman like me… what else is there to do, Samuel?”

His week being teased by you at all angles has forced him to evolve. Sam forgets altogether about indulging your bit and upgrades straight to more wonderful, ticklish manhandling, wiggling an arm between your vulnerable side and the bed to practically throw you back where you belong. You squeak and sputter between laughs, pretending your skin doesn’t explode with goosebumps at his touch.

When his massive palm is spread over your breastbone, Sam hoists you back against him, rolls in to threaten squishing you with more plush muscle and manly weight, and snarls in a way that ruins your metaphorical panties all over again.

“Uh-uh. Don’t play. You know exactly what m’ gonna do to you. Do y—?”

Sam stirs up his hips as he talks. All the snooty teasing left in your tank evaporates in one fell swoop, feeling the delicious outline of his dick swelling against you. Okay. You’re woman enough to admit that does it for you, and you really, really don’t want to wait anymore. Sam is an unbearable tease who will drag this out forever. You take matters into your own hands. Or, really, you put them into his.

…You prop open your closest leg for him, bent at the knee.

“Aw,” Sam rumbles, “didn’t even have’ta ask.”

You don’t hide your mean little grin. Sam, of course, kisses you into oblivion just seeing it, sliding a coarse hand under the silky, sensitive flesh behind your knee to keep you open for him. The ashes of your last climax are still simmering with heat, but it’s Sam’s kiss and his touch that reignites you totally.

It’s a bit of a twist to lean back and kiss him, but Sam’s height is made for this: his bulge swells right under your pussy, and he has the room to lean in close to your ear and purr—

“Take it out.”

Sam is asking you to take out his dick. You know that, yet you imagine yourself a month from now, unsure of which weapon the boys are comfortable letting you borrow from the Impala’s trunk. Dean’ll tell you, oh, the machete’s fine. Then Sam, with glittering eyes and full knowledge of how he’s torturing you, will nudge his chin toward the trunk and utter that phrase. Go on. Take it out. Knowing exactly what you’re thinking, and when, and how. And how deep and how hard.

It takes some shuffling and some curling, but you manage to work Sam’s jeans and boxers down his thighs. Just the sound of his zipper makes your mouth water. He hisses soft by your ear at the chill of the room, but in your hand Sam’s dick is body-hot by comparison. And. And so… s-so…

You scoop your palm around the shaft, squeezing him, feeling him. Through your back you feel Sam curl in and shiver, rumbling in approval. Your cheeks feel like they’re cooking by the candlelight just going for it, but your curiosity wins out—or, more accurately, your fucking awe. Because. What the fuck. You’ve never exactly seen a dick in person before, but you’re not naive. Sam is big enough to split you in half, and—and it just kind of pisses you off, because not only is he big, his dick is pretty, too. He has a pretty dick. Just cause’ being smart and empathetic and all that other bullshit didn’t make him sexy enough. God.

You nuzzle your cheek into Sam’s and he drops his lazy temple against yours. The two of you lounge there, heaving like peeping toms, as you both take in how sexy his cock looks leaking against your belly. Laying between your legs. It’s goddamn photo-worthy. Then, the angle your hand is taking slow, experimental pumps of him… accidentally… grinds Sam’s shaft between your abuse-swollen folds. He’s already twisting to moan into your mouth when you start to rock along him in earnest. You take a fistful of Sam’s hair and ride him for all he’s worth, dragging your sopping wet cunt across his dick until he glistens.

For three blissful seconds Sam locks you against his chest and grinds with you, making it instantly clear why people always use the word friction with sex. The push and pull of it has you whimpering loud and high against Sam’s mouth. And, thank god for him, because when your head starts to fog with visions of being filled raw, Sam pulls away from your kiss and recollects his control.

“Condom,” he gasps for breath, “we should. Probably. Yeah.”

“...Right,” you cursed. Your high school sex-ed teachers would not be proud of your lack of forethought, but it’s impossible to have any kind of thought in this situation, period.

For example: Sam tilts away to fish around in his duffle bag beside the bed, and, unfiltered, your mind taps its fingertips together and cheerily hopes, maybe Sam will be so rough the condom breaks.

Woah there, girlfriend, your reason butts in. But it doesn’t have anything else to say, since you start picturing how Sam’s cum would look oozing out of you, and. Um.

“You almost sound disappointed,” Sam jokes, digging for his wallet.

You snuggle down into the blankets and pretend you’re not hiding your face. “A little bit,” you confess, chanting the word responsible over and over in your head for good measure. “How much am I gonna feel you?”

Sam finds the condom and rolls back into your bubble. He turns in to kiss your shoulder, and you can feel his smile when he tells you, “You’re gonna feel every bit of me. Every inch… every stroke… I promise.”

He is so determined to assuage your worries that he holds the condom where you can see it, turning it over (between those long, long fingers) to make sure it’s punctureless and new. The little foil packet has XL printed on one side, which both adds to your sexy thoughts and pulls you out of them. Sam really is that big. He knows it, too, which is probably how he reads your nervousness.

“We’ll take it slow,” Sam promises, voice honey-sweet and quick to reassure you. “S’ big, yeah, but I’m gonna do everything to make you comfortable, kay? And if you wanna stop—”

He cares so much, you realize.

“Sam?”

He looks into your eyes like he loves you, and utters, “Yeah?”

“Thank you for making this good for me,” you say.

Sam melts. He doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, and you let him know it’s okay with a softer, warmer kiss than the others you’ve shared. You take in the shape of his face, the subtle freckles on his cheeks and nose, how the candlelight shadows sweeten Sam’s gaze. It slams on top of you how there’s nobody in the whole world you’d rather be doing this with, and in one puff your anxiety is in the wind.

You wrap your fingers around Sam’s wrist and flirt, “...Can I put it on you?”

Sam nods, eyes lidded. You’ve never exactly had to open a condom before, so you’re careful to pry the foil open with your fingers. For whatever reason you hadn’t figured it’d be lubed, but it makes fitting the ring of it around Sam’s tip and sliding it down his shaft a bit easier. A soft happy groan escapes him. They keep escaping him as you pump his cock in languid twists of your hand.

Sam nuzzles his face between your shoulder blades, whisper-rasping, “Would you like to…? It’ll be less scary that way.”

You really, really would. Before you make your move, Sam adds, “But, uh, before you put it in—want you to look at me.” He wets his lips with his tongue. “Wanna see the look on your face when I fill you up.”

Well, fuck. You tilt your face against Sam’s, nose to nose with him and warmed by his breath, and feel the slow ripples of heat in your belly roll into long, growing waves. Sam slides a hand back to the silky underside of your thigh and props you open for him. When you line Sam up, you start with the tip, not pressing, just stroking, feeling him against you. A satisfied purr drizzles out of your mouth to Sam’s. So far, your chosen pace has been “just go for it,” and since it hasn’t failed you yet—

—you go for it.

Sam’s bulbous cockhead dips between your folds to find your hole. A desperate, keening yes squeals out of you. You’re spit-wet and absolutely caked in slick, so there’s no hitch when you pull Sam in, just a hot, sudden fullness that seems to go endlessly deeper and deeper. The fit is so fucking snug. Snug like he’s made for you. Snug and perfect and stinging, made easier by Sam’s soft huffing coos. Look at you go. Makin’ this look easy. You looked so pretty when I ate you out, baby, but I knew you’d look even prettier taking my dick. So eager, Sam says, and he’s right. Your wetness is just begging to swallow him whole. Just being stuffed with half of Sam’s cock has you sucking down air, so the final surge to bring him to the hilt pries a genuine, hoarse cry from your belly. Sam shoves his face in your hair and groans, the sound catching on the snarl between his teeth.

Together, you orbit around the throbbing core of pleasure between you, suspended in the moment.

Sam is a wind-up toy, springs tightening with every vicious squeeze of your pussy. His mouth has made you soft, slippery, and swollen, so the firmness of his cock is different but stellar. This close, in such an intimate position, you can feel his heartbeat in more ways than one, and it surrounds you and fills you so effortlessly that you can only assume it’s your own. He touches your body like it’s one he just stepped into, feeling you from a new perspective for the first time. Sam fixates on your tummy, too, and you find out why when he presses down under your belly button—feeling the thick swell of him under your skin, deeper than anyone else could ever go. He gives you a turn too, pressing your hand down in the same place. It sends electric blackouts of lust through your system that demand to be fucked brainless.

You start to wiggle in his grasp for more, stirring your hips down onto him and choking out his name. Sam is already responding: your open leg is scooped into the crook of his arm and drawn tight to his chest, spreading you open as wide as you’ll go. His hold cants up your hips in a way that lets his cock hit just that much deeper, and that’s all you need to dash your head against the pillows and mewl for your life. Two rough fingerpads slip back into the sopping wet home of your clit and stir against it at a pace brutal enough to cramp. Between Sam’s fingers and the thick drag of his cock against your soft walls, you’re desperate for something to hold onto. You latch onto Sam’s wrist for dear life. Then starts Sam’s pulling and pushing in brief, filling strokes, rocking, driving you fucking crazy, making you need him to fuck you like you need air. He was deep to a point that you swear you could feel him in the back of your throat.

“You want more?” Sam asks, and if it weren’t for the breathy rattle in his voice he could’ve sounded innocent.

You nod until your head is close to rolling off. “Yes, yes Sammy please.”

Sam grins. You feel it for an instant, then his cheek pulls away from your back and all you have left to read him by is the needy, carnal noises he’s making. All at once he’s drawing out further than he had before. You’re almost empty for a whole sob-worthy breath, which Sam makes up for with every ounce of his being.

For what has to be three glorious hours, Sam leans back to fuck you in powerful, even strokes, filling you to the brim every time, and filling the room with the thick, wet sound of his cock pounding into you. You repay him the only way you can, and—get—noisy.

You moan. You wail. You mewl, pretty much every time Sam’s hips snap up into your ass. You pant hard through it all, begging him in soft whines to f-fuck me, fuck me, p-please, Sam and to go deeper, baby—uhnn, more more more…! From there you’re on autopilot, letting loose even the most primal noises that Sam gets out of you. He is very, very good at his task, so you color the room with every erotic syllable under the sun. A porn studio would hire the two of you without even entering the room. Sam especially, but you might be biased since every time you sigh his name he drives in a little harder.

Indescribable pleasure follows even his tiniest movements. You absorb every pump with nothing but desperate enthusiasm, spreading your legs further, curling your back, and digging your fingers into the cushions for any sort of leverage at all. Just a few minutes pass until your limit is a trembling boulder of knots in your gut, but still Sam’s nowhere near finished yet. Slick coats your thighs and Sam's cock, you cry at every thrust, your body twitches and shudders all over, but he's still not there.

He slows. The brush of his lips against your ear and the wisp of his breath set your nerves on fire. “You’re gonna finish first, but tha’—that’s okay, baby,” Sam reassures, and works your poor swollen clit even harder, choking a string of thready moans from you. “Wanna feel your pretty pussy cum all over my dick.”

“Oh fuck,” you whine.

(Tomorrow, you’re going to wake up and wonder where the hell he got that dirty mouth from. Somebody needs to clean it out with soap.)

It’s as Sam’s laying sloppy kisses on your throat that his prediction comes true. The tissue in your body pulls taut, winding tight, tighter, curling around the epicenter of pleasure, toward him. You expect Sam’s thrusts to take a fierce turn. Instead, you’re treated to the same thorough, determined pace that got you here in the first place—the same pace that is currently jellifying your insides and reducing you to tears on this teeny bed. If the percussive slapping of skin on skin wasn’t enough to wake up the entire planet, then the vicious slam of the bedframe putting a new dent in the wall would certainly do the job. Somehow you hear it all past your pulse thundering in your ears. The arm hooked behind you to rake a hand through Sam’s hair bobs with each thrust, and your leg trapped in Sam’s hold bounces on beat. All you can do is scrape out broken gasps, until the tossing waves of heat and lust and power twisted in your belly have built too high—and all things that go up must inevitably come crashing down.

“That’s my girl,” Sam slurs, squeezing your tits in both hands. He rolls his hips into you and coos, “Just like that… take what you need, baby, it’s okay…”

Like last time, Sam fucks you through it. You’re scooped up in his arms and squeezed tight, tight enough to be drawn into Sam’s body and absorbed. The hot, gorgeous drags of friction against the sensitive walls of your cunt slow, but Sam never draws out, burying himself deep and soaking up every wild clamp of your pussy. There’s something fucking spectacular about having something to clench down on. Sam is that perfect something, vieny and thick and still fucking hard.

You cum on him in long rippling rushes of wet heat that feel downright unrealistic, otherworldly—exaggerated, maybe, by the fact that you fucking—black—out!

It must only be a few beats later that you come out of it, but the fact remains that Sam Winchester made you cum so hard you passed out, and you’re going to have to live with that for the rest of your life. You’re already starting to realize that Sam is the best lay you’re ever going to have, period, and the dull happy throb of your orgasm hasn’t even left your body yet. Sam hasn’t even left your body yet.

Wait, fuck. He’s still hard.

…This could be. This could be very good.

Fueled by hormones, sweat, and adrenaline, you pull off him and roll the rest of the way onto your belly. During all the crazed fucking, you and Sam had migrated halfway down the bed. You crawl to the top as sexily as you’re able, stuff your cheek against the closest pillow, and wiggle your cum-soaked ass in the air just for him, open for his taking. Your face could start the whole bed on fire, but you feel more alluring than embarrassed.

“C’mon, Sammy,” you taunt, and throw him a mean grin, “gimme the big finish.”

Sam sucked in a deep breath from his nose, probably preying for strength. A dirty smile touched his face. “You’re… you’re amazing, _____.”

Feeling like it, you turned your face over onto the other side of the pillow and tempted him with another mesmerizing ass wiggle. Sam was up on his knees in an instant. You should’ve known that Sam, the addict, would instantly take the chance to shove his face between your legs. The only warning you get is his massive hands clamping down on your calves to hold you still, then a hot, silky tongue swipes once through your folds for a taste. You haven’t finished squealing when Sam’s weight saddles up behind you, and the heavy shape of his cock starts to rut between your legs.

“Sorry,” Sam hums, not sorry at all, “Needed a taste of you.”

Stars above, he doesn’t hesitate to get handsy with you, too, taking two broad handfuls of your ass-cheeks. Your ass sits so nicely against his hips that you start to wonder if soulmates are real. Because Sam must be yours, fitting into you like a key and teasing you open like a master lockpicker. Once you’re where Sam wants you, he bobs your ass back until his tip has room to part your folds, and after that you’re both brought home into sparkling, slippery, blinding pleasure. He digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you right on him, filling your pussy to the hilt, like always. Key. Lock. Click click click.

“Yes,” you and Sam hiss together.

“Fuck,” Sam adds. “You should see yourself like this. You look so stuffed, baby, squeezing down on me.”

“Feel so stuffed,” you flirt back, wiggling into him.

This angle is different than the last, exaggerating, as Sam immediately starts in on his pace from before, how thick his cock is. He curls his fingers around your waist and beats in hard, pulling on your still-sparking overstimulated wires from last time. Every joint in your body locks ramrod straight, overwhelmed with brief flashes of too much too much. Your pussy clenches helplessly around him, but Sam brings you over it with a few well-placed stirs of his hips. In no time you’re mewling for him like you were before, emboldened by your first round.

You get your nails into Sam’s sculpted ass and drag him deeper, faster, urging him on the end of a moan, “Fuckin’ take it, Sammy—mhhnn, take what—what you need, Sam, yes, so good—”

This is exactly what Sam needs to hear. You’re scooped up around the middle, just like before, and Sam crushes his face into your back, spooning you close as he brings himself closer and closer to where he needs to be. Your hands can’t get enough of him, smoothing down his vieny arms and squeezing his hand against your belly. The picture the two of you must make is obscene on unimaginable levels. Sam, latched onto you like a parasite and reaming you for his release. You, smushed under him and loving it, digging your ass up into him for more. All the sweat-twisted blankets shoved to the floor. Sam’s hips canting your thighs apart. The worn-smooth slope of his palms, squeezing your tits and your tummy and your waist in achy handfuls.

Finally, Sam’s hoarse choked panting cuts off with a sharp breath. His hips putter into you for the last time, then still. Sam spills into the condom, shuddering against you from head to toe, and slowly… the two of you collapse into each other… panting and panting until your breathing syncs up. Sam’s chest goes up. You suck in a breath. His chest goes out, and you deflate right with him.

He doesn’t get up and you don’t ask him to. As the haze of sex starts to clear from the room (as much as it can, anyway), the chill of the mountainside creeps in behind it, and the hottest thing around for miles is easily the giant, naked Sam Winchester in your bed. Wrapped up in him and as warm as can be, you wonder if he’s as close to passing out (again) as you are.

But no. Suddenly, Sam’s up on his hands, and there’s only two possible reasons why.

“Didn’t get to kiss you as I finished,” he complained.

Smushed into your pillow, you tell him, “I think you have two addictions.”

Regardless, you roll onto your back so Sam can lay one on you. Since your soul is officially back in your body, you’re more aware than ever of the aches and bruises you’ve earned, not to mention a few sets of pomegranate-purple fingerprints. After a few stunning kisses from Sam, you’re still not sure that all of that actually happened. You touch his face and pinch his cheeks plenty of times, but all he does is look at you extra dreamily. Still doesn’t seem real.

Of course, being a gentleman, he decides to prove it to you.

“Speaking of my other addiction…” Sam lays a playful hand on your belly, “I know I wound you up a bit back there. Can I take care of you one more time? Please?”

“Hmm…” You pretend to think, grinning to yourself. “Man. I just can’t say no to you, Sammy…”

_

Two weeks later, you’re crammed in a teeny car instead of a teeny cabin, riding down a back road in rural Texas the Dean way—blowing by road signs at sixty miles an hour, windows down and music up. Sam’s shotgun. You’re content to sit behind him, catching his eye in the side-mirror as he pretends to hunt around newspapers for a new case. His hair flutters in the wind, outlining his face in the most enchanting way.

“I don’t know how the hell the two of you stayed up there the whole week!” Dean hollers over his Lynyrd Skynyrd tape, which he could turn down whenever he wants to. He throws you an unenvious look from the driver’s seat, “You must’a been bored out of your fuckin’ gourds!”

You’re honestly surprised that Dean didn’t automatically assume sexy shenanigans occurred at the cabin. Sam doesn’t move to answer, deeply engrossed in his reading. Where Dean can’t see, you curl your fingers into the hair at the back of Sam’s neck and caress his scalp, which earns you a look that promises that sexy shenanigans can happen anywhere. They can happen in motel rooms. Click. Even Impalas, when Dean’s gone. Click click click.

You shrug at Sam’s brother, shouting over the music with an unsubtle grin. “We entertained ourselves!”

_

Tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration

READ PART TWO.

[cameronsprincess]

hey love 😘 I’d like to request hot coco movie with jj based on this link 💦 a blindfold smut pls 🤭

hehehe i’ve been excited about this one😫 we’re going sub!jj all the waaay😮‍💨🤞🏻

CW: smut! 18+ only! sub!jj, dom!reader, mommy kink, edging, handjob, tit fucking, praise.

5k moodboard/blurbs m.list

“mommy… please?” jj whimpers, his hips bucking up as you continue to run your spit soaked hand up and down his throbbing length.

you chuckle, halting your movments and removing yourself from between his legs. you pull open the nightstand drawer, pulling out a silk black blindfold, climbing back into the bed and placing it over jj’s eyes. his body jerks, “what’re you doing..?” he rasps, trying to jerk his head to the side.

dropping the blindfold on his chest, you grip his cheeks between your fingers, forcing his eyes on yours.

“now j, stop fighting, it’s just a blindfold..” you loosen your grip on his face, softly running the back of your hand down his cheek and to his neck. “you trust me, don’t you?”

he slowly nods his head, his muscles relaxing as he breathes in deep, letting it out slowly.

“‘course i trust you mama, i just.. i just wanna see your pretty face.”

you let out a small “aww” before grabbing the blindfold again, placing it over his eyes. he lifts his head off the pillow, allowing you to tie it in the back before helping him lay back into the pillows again.

“i know baby, but this’ll be so much more fun. you’re giving me so much control over you, don’t you wanna be a good boy and make me happy?”

he sighs, “y-yes.. always wanna make you happy mommy.”

you grin, patting his cheek with your hand before sliding back down his body. you situate yourself between his spread thighs, gathering saliva in your mouth before spitting into your palm. you softly wrap your hand around his swollen tip, squeezing lightly before circling your hand around it, running it slowly down his length and back up again.

jj groans, his head thrashing side to side as his chest begins to heave, shaky breaths falling past his kiss swollen lips.

“oh fuck… i-i need to cum.. please?” jj begs, his breaths coming out choppy.

you click your tongue, shaking your head even though he can’t see it. “not until i say, can you do that for me, j? be a good boy and hold it, don’t cum until mommy says you can.”

a whine escapes jj’s lips, his thick cock jerking in your hand. you watch as his balls draw tight, his release about to bust from him, but you stop before it can. jj whines, “fuck! why do you keep stopping? i need to cum, baby.”

you tsk, pulling your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor. you quickly unhook your bra, letting it slide off your chest and onto the bed.

“j, just trust me okay? have i ever let you down?”

jj breathes out, his cheeks puffing out from the action. “no.. no you haven’t.”

“exactly, trust me, if you’re a good boy, and just trust me…” you pause, gathering more saliva in your mouth and spitting down onto your breasts that you have squished together. “i promise you’ll cum harder than you ever have before.”

jj groans, but ultimately nods his head, allowing you to take care of him.

you lower your body, gripping his cock in one of your hands, slowly pumping his length before slipping it between your breasts. jj hisses in a breath, his body already so on edge and begging for release. “fuck… that.. oh, god, that feels so fucking good mommy.” he whimpers, his bottom lip between his teeth.

you grin, loving the look of pain and pleasure etched into his features. you imagine his eyes are filled with unshed tears, the frustration of being edged until hot tears slide down his perfect face.

jj thrusts his hips up, sliding his cock in and out of your breasts. you push them together more, making them squeeze and tighten around his aching dick. “that’s it, j. fuck my tits, make yourself cum all over my chest and face.. you can do it, such a good boy.”

he whines, his hips bucking faster, his slick, swollen cock gliding between your tits with ease. you watch as his cock twitches, his balls drawing up tight before he lets out a low groan. long, thick spurts of cum shoot from his tip, his legs shaking, thighs tense as he paints your chest and lips white with his seed.

“goddamn… i.. fuck!” jj groans, his body falling limp on the bed, spent and milked dry.

you slowly lift the blindfold from jj’s eyes, smiling down at him once his bright blue eyes find yours. he watches as you drag a finger through the cum that coats your chest, bringing up to your lips and sucking it clean, repeating your actions until you’ve cleaned every last drop of his cum off your chest.

“did so good for me, jj. i love you.”

tagging some moots: @rafesthroatbaby @starkeysbabygirl @rafeyscurtainbangs @starkeysprincess @oceandriveab @pankowperfection @jjsbaby @nemesyaaa @maybankslover @moremaybank @starkeyisthelastname @rafesangelita @cherrygirlfriend @kiiyomei

[look-at-the-soul]

Every little thing you do- Prologue

Tommy Shelby x reader (Mini series)

Summary: Y/N has been Tommy’s best friend since childhood. She had always been there for him when he needed her the most. Now as the Shelby family are in a better position, Y/N will need Tommy’s support when something she didn’t expect happens.

A/N welcome to this little new adventure! This story started as an idea @lyarr24 shared a while ago and I just stared at it for a few minutes until the ideas started “appearing” in my mind. This particular part turned somehow into a comedy show on its own 😂🤭 it was fun and light to write, but it’s going to get angsty… thank you for sharing your unique ideas as usual! It took me some time but I’m always into giving each story it’s own time. And of course @justrainandcoffee thank you for creating this beautiful moodboard for this story! You totally nailed it!

Word count: 2,196

Arriving at the Garrison, Y/N headed straight towards the private booth where the Shelby’s were reunited.

“You should’ve seen the look in Polly’s eyes when she found out we were buying the stallion.” John cracked and threw his head back with a loud laugh.

Arthur winked at Y/N and decided to mess with his brother.

“Erm John boy.” He cleared his throat, just as Tommy gave Y/N a smirk, they were both sitting facing the door unlike John who had his back at it.

Tommy used the chance to kick his youngest brother in the shin, as a warning.

“So you think it’s fucking hilarious John Michael Shelby.” Y/N imitated Polly’s voice and mannerisms perfectly.

John’s face paled as the smile left his face and he straightened his back.

Arthur snorted and then started laughing uncontrollably as John turned around to find Y/N standing by the door.

“Shit! Y/N you scared the fuck out of me.”

“Get in here sweetheart.” Arthur called for her, making room next to him. “That was brilliant, you’ve got a talent.”

“You sound just like her.” Ada praised, leaning over the table to kiss her cheek.

“You’re late.” Tommy offered her a glass of whiskey.

Taking a sip, she nodded. “The lady I work for had a terrible day, didn’t want me to leave.” She replied titling her head to the side because Arthur was right in the middle, sandwiched between her and Tommy.

“And how did it go?” He asked over the laughs of his siblings.

“My feet are killing me, I had to walk all the way back… but I really needed a drink tonight.

“Why? Scott didn’t pick you up?” He raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

Against his best judgment, he agreed to give Y/N’s boyfriend a place among the peaky men. He didn’t like or trusted him but he was doing it for Y/N and the friendship they’ve always had. Over time, he even gave Scott a car under the condition to drop and pick up Y/N from her work every day.

“We had an argument this morning, he got pissed and I asked him to not.” She lied.

She knew how protective Tommy could get, specially around Scott. They were already past the phase where Tommy would’ve to intervene and put her boyfriend in his place, then Scott would come for her arguing that she let that gangster say and do whatever he pleased.

But Tommy knew Y/N better than that, and this wasn’t the first time she lied to cover for her boyfriend’s attitude.

“What’s so funny?” Polly demanded to know as she joined them in the booth. Staring at Arthur and John’s faces she knew, so she shot Y/N a long look. “You’re imitating me again?!”

The Shelby brothers tried to hide their amusement but all of them failed.

“We wanted to mess up with John, Pol. Sorry.” Y/N looked down embarrassed for being caught.

Polly smiled down at her, it was impossible to stay angry with someone as Y/N.

“Well I hope it was a good one.” The smile grew bigger.

Ada laughed and stood for her aunt to take her place. “You should’ve seen John’s face, he went pale.” Waving at them, she left.

“Hey you need to talk to Finn, he’s getting out of hand these days” Polly warned her nephews. “I asked him to deliver a few letters and he had the audacity to answer he wasn’t a mail boy anymore.”

Tommy shook his head and after a long puff to his cigarette, he answered; “I’ll talk to him.”

Y/N’s chuckle made him look at her. “What? Are you really going to lecture the poor boy? Tom, if I remember correctly, you answered your father something similar back in the day but worse and that caused your first fight.”

Tommy shuddered at the memory. He was so done with his father demanding favors from him and his brother Arthur, so one day he told him he was done with his bullshit and Arthur Sr answered with a curse, threw a glass against the wall and pushed him, Tommy pushed him back. Luckily Arthur Jr and Y/N were close and could intervene to stop them from getting any further.

That night, Y/N stayed with him outside until Tommy had calmed, then she asked her parents, who were neighbors to the Shelby’s if he could sleep on the couch. Y/N’s mother made him some tea and offered him the comfort he wasn’t able to find next door.

They started as neighbors, then Tommy and Y/N became friends until Tommy trusted her blindly. After the war she was the only one who could understand him.

Tommy took a swing of his drink. “You’re not going to tell him that, are you? I’ve a reputation to keep.” He finally added.

“Leave him Pol, the poor boy is probably frustrated because he haven’t had a woman yet.” Arthur chuckled at his own joke.

“Hey,” Y/N called everyone in the room, “leave Finn out, you’re nothing but a bad influence.”

John shook his head and raised his hands as if saying he wasn’t part of it.

“Oh please Mr.-I-want-to-marry-Lizzie-Stark, really?” Y/N raised her eyebrow at him.

“Tommy! Why the hell did you tell her?!” John exploded against his brother, who was already laughing out loud, head thrown back.

Polly had to look twice at her nephew, his guard was down he seemed to be relaxed for once. Since the war he had changed a lot, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“And besides, I corrected my path, married to Esme didn’t I?” John mumbled chewing on his toothpick.

Y/N nodded, deciding to leave that conversation, it’s was funny to tease John. “I better go now, it’s getting late.”

Tommy was on his feet the second she announced her plans.

“C’mon I’ll drive you.” Tommy offered his best friend.

Giving Polly a hug, she waved at the Shelby brothers goodbye.

After driving for a while, Y/N noticed Tommy took another route.

“Before you ask me,” Tommy spoke softly, “I’m going to show you something.”

She opened and closed her mouth. “You’re so mysterious.”

Tilting his head, Tommy clicked his tongue. “When you see it, you’ll understand.”

“Is it the new horse?” Y/N asked impatiently.

Tommy shook his head and passed her the cigarettes and matches to light it. “Why don’t you tell me what happened with Scott?”

“Something really stupid, he got pissed over nothing.”

“Really? Tell me something I don’t know already.”

Y/N sighed and took her time to exhale the smoke out of the window. “He asked me to ask you for some money, when I told him that he still owed you from the last time he got furious at me.”

“But you gave me the money for that loan.” Tommy’s eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“I did, but it wasn’t his money.” Y/N explained embarrassed after confessing Tommy the truth.

It was now time for Tommy for sigh. Eyes focused on the road, he didn’t want to be a pain and say I told you, Y/N was the only person he could trust and he wanted her to trust him the same way.

“Look this happens all the time, your Mum used to pay your dad’s bills behind his back, I just couldn’t take another one yet, he’s trying to find a better job and I think he’s going to propose soon.”

Tommy’s breath got caught up in his throat, he was trying to process the possibilities.

“So… is he the one?” He finally asked.

“Well he’s my boyfriend.” Y/N rushed to answer. “I just don’t know if he will let me keep working for Lady Winchester.”

“If you need a job, you know there’s always a spot for you at the Shelby Company Limited.” Tommy took the last puff of his cigarette and threw it outside the vehicle.

“Maybe I’ll need it later. Thank you.” Y/N felt more than grateful to have someone like Tommy around, he had always been there for her and her siblings specially after his business took off and he started to earn more money than anyone around. In her eyes, that didn’t make him change, if anything he became more generous.

But Scott on the other hand, was tender and good to her, he was fun to be around, always brought flowers to her. He wanted to have his own business one day, unfortunately life had been hard and it was taking him longer to make it.

Taking a turn, Tommy stopped in front of a huge gate, the property guarded by the gate wasn’t a house, it was a freaking mansion!

And her best friend was opening the gate as if he owned the property.

“Wha-what are you doing?” Y/N asked looking out the window.

“Drive over here!” Encouraged Tommy with a huge smile.

Her heart started beating faster, he showed her how to drive and even let her do it when she wasn’t allowed to. But this was wrong, it felt like they were trespassing, she could feel her heart pounding as Tommy shouted for her to hurry up.

Following his instructions, Y/N parked the car next to the fountain.

“I wanted you to see this first…” His smile couldn’t get any bigger as he opened his arms wide and looked around proudly. “I bought this place.”

Her jaw dropped, she was lost for words.

“What do you think? I’ll build a place for the horses in the back.” Tommy explained, eyes shining.

“Woah… I don’t know what to say Tom.” A hand covered her mouth, still shocked to form anything coherent. This house looked bigger than Lady Winchester’s and that was a bloody mansion too! “You always said you’d get yourself a decent place and a big house, and look at how far you’ve come!” She felt genuinely happy for him, Tommy had always worked so hard, always found a way to help his people and those around him. If anyone deserved this, it was him.

“I’ll even have my fucking office here, and there’s a grand salon for parties.” He explained as he waited for her to step inside.

“Parties?!” She laughed nervously.

“A ball dance and shit.” He took a look around.

“You’ll need loads of furniture to fill this place.”

Tommy chuckled. This was unthinkable a few months ago, now it was a reality, he’d had the big place he dreamed of when he was a kid.

“You got a fireplace! In the tea room!”

He followed Y/N’s voice, she was now standing in the middle of the dining room.

“This looks like it belongs to a Lord.”

“You can call me Lord Shelby then.” He winked at her and they both laughed at how ridiculous it sounded.

“Downstairs it’s the wine cellar.” He added hiding his hands inside the pockets of his pants. “Do you like it?”

“Are you kidding me?” She nodded. “This is a dream! I’m so happy for you!” Y/N then went to give him a hug.

A bold movement for the rest of the world, but to her it was just natural, they’ve been friends since forever. She was the one comforting him when his mother passed away, the one to help him hold it together after the war.

“You’ll love the kitchen, it’s huge but they’re doing some renovations already, I’ll show you once it’s done.”

“Looks like I’ll need to make an appointment from now on.” Y/N teased him.

Tommy shook his head with a shy smile. “Of course not, specially not you.”

She knew he was busier now days that the Peaky Blinders owned the races and licenses. It was just a matter of time before he found a woman and got married, then this house would be filled with kids. Or perhaps he already had someone therefore the plans to get the big house.

Once the realization hit her, she pretended to look towards the window. A sudden lump installed in her throat and something indescribable pressed her heart.

“Should we go? It’s going to be dark soon.” Y/N asked, looking him in the eyes for a mere second.

Time flew on their way back and soon Tommy stopped his car in front of Y/N’s door.

Even before he could say goodnight, an angry voice called for her.

“I’ve been waiting hours for you, Y/N nobody knew where the heck did you go.”

“Slow down mate, that’s no way to treat her.” Tommy intervened, holding Scott’s death stare.

“Stay the fuck out of this.” Scott raised his voice.

Tommy felt his blood boiling, one stride and he’d finish the prick, but before he could move, a pair of soft hands stopped him.

“Tommy please, let me handle this.” She pleaded.

His jaw clenched as he saw the smirk of satisfaction Scott gave him. The bastard had Y/N charmed and there was nothing he could do about it.

✨ Thank you for your support! You already know it, but the way to a writer’s heart is through your feedback xx

Part 1

Master list

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @blondie-22 @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @lau219 @lauren-raines-x @red-riding-wood @lovemissyhoneybee @theendlessvoidofdarkest @wannabeperfectionists-blog @yeppaweshallsee (can’t tag) @skydisneylover (can’t tag) @holacia3 @galactict3a

@saradika-graphics divider

[mentally-gone002]

is it too early to love you? - part 2

(moodboard made by moi)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

summary: reader returns home after the case she worked for a week that had her leaving her boyfriend home after an argument. she returns and he’s made a big decision. 

a/n: 😭😭😭 anyway have fun

————————————————————————

the case ended after a week and i was glad to get home. i hated leaving after any argument with james. i had done a lot of thinking when it was just me at night during the case. james didn’t call a single time and when i’d call he picked up on the last ring. the calls wouldn’t last more than five minutes.

when i parked beside the sidewalk at our apartment i noticed a u-haul outside of the with a few people moving boxes into it. 

i stayed to watch a few people slide boxes into the back, wondering who was moving prior to taking the stairs up to our apartment and saw the door open with one of the u-haul workers carrying a box out of the door. 

“hey,” i stopped him. “who’s stuff is that?” i asked, pointing to the box. 

he shrugged. “it has a name on the side.” 

i moved to read the name and category on the side. 

james: bathroom

i sighed. “thanks.” the man nodded and walked down the stairs while i walked into the apartment. “james!” i called out.

he came walking out of the bedroom, sweat over his brow as he carried another box. “hey.” he said nonchalantly. 

“what are you doing?” i asked. 

the apartment was stripped of all things that belonged to him. i knew what he was doing but i needed to hear it from him. 

“what does it look like?” he asked. “i’m leaving.”

“leaving?” i reiterated. he nodded. “why? what happened?” 

“hey, i have a deadline to meet. let me get the last few boxes and then we can talk.” james said and left the apartment with a box. 

i stood in the middle of the room, arms around myself as i felt heat at the backs of my eyes. 

i wasn’t going to cry. 

“okay.” james came back and i looked at him, wanting him to just tell me why he’s leaving. “i couldn’t do it anymore.” 

“couldn’t do what anymore?” i asked. 

“this.” he gestured between us. “and all that defending of your little boy toy, spencer. i see the way you look at each other. and your job! jesus, your job is fucked!” he went off. “i barely see you, we haven’t had sex in a month, and when i try to you’re always ‘too tired’.” he said, dropping his hands down to his sides in exasperation after using air quotes. i stood silently in disbelief. “and now you don’t have anything to say? real classic.” he scoffed. “it wasn’t just those two reasons. i just… you. i can’t do it anymore. it’s just you.” 

my eyes welled with tears. i didn’t know that i, me as an entire person, would be a reason to breakup. my mouth opened but nothing came out. 

“what?” james asked. “are you gonna ask me to stay?” he walked past me and grabbed a box off of the floor. 

i shook my head and wiped my eyes. “just go.” 

“i am.” james said. “this was the last box. and i ended my rent payment, so this place is all yours.” he told me and then just left, slamming the door closed behind himself. 

i waited, to see if he’d come back and say something else that would make my feel numb. but he didn’t come back. 

i dropped my bag on the floor and sniffed, tears falling down my cheeks. the space i’d shared with someone else for one and a half years was now filled with an empty feeling that made me sob. 

i didn’t try to hide it anymore. 

i cried and cried. all the way to the couch where i laid down and didn’t get up for a long time. 

i must’ve fallen asleep because it was completely dark and quiet when i sat up. i looked around, eyes landing on my phone on the floor, lit up from a notification. 

i stood up and sat on the floor in front of the device, seeing a number on the screen. 

3 missed calls. 

all from spencer. 

my hands ran over my face prior to grabbing my phone to call him back. 

“hey, are you alright?” spencer picked up after two rings. he was concerned and sounded like if i said anything that gave him the impression that something was wrong he’d show up at my door. 

“yeah, spence. i’m fine.” i replied, laying on my back on the floor. “sorry, i fell asleep after i got home and just woke up.” 

spencer hummed. “it’s okay. sorry i left so many messages.” 

“it’s okay. i haven’t listened to them yet, i called you right away.” i fidgeted with my shirt. he hummed over the line. “i should go, it’s probably late, and i haven’t changed or showered yet.” 

“okay, i’ll let you go.” 

i bit my lip. “okay. bye.”

“bye.” 

i hung up prior to getting back on my feet, walking blindly to my bedroom. i undressed in the dark, climbed into bed in the dark, laid awake in the dark, listening to spencer’s voicemails.

“hey… i noticed you were acting different during the last case. you just… i don’t know, you were distracted and you looked hurt. i just wanted to ask if you were okay.”

“it’s me… again… im worried about you. you’re usually really fast to reply but it’s been an hour, or close to it. did something happen between you and james? you didn’t mention him, and you usually do… twice everyday. i don’t know why i know that. anyway, sorry for calling again, i’m just worried.”

“please call me back. i’m about to drive over just to make sure nothing happened to you… i swear if he hurt you-“

the cut off of the last message made a strange ache in my chest appear. i tossed my phone away from me as if it was burning me. 

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | part six

“I’m sad again, don’t tell my girlfriend”

A/N: fun fact about the little black cat in the moodboard! It’s actually my friend’s cat Artemis 🥺 love that little fur baby to the moon and back! Don’t let the title fool y’all…it’s a little sad of a chapter but don’t worry!! Everything is going to be fine!! I pinky promise 💗

~word count: 4.0k~

Summary: Joel opens up to you about his past at Brazzers and before he met you

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, established relationship, discussions of toxic societal norms, the adult film industry, past relationships, grief, intimacy, communication, unconditional love, unprotected piv, cock warming, mentions of alcohol, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is baby love, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

Calloused fingertips gently pluck wire guitar strings that once were coated in a fine layer of dust. Muscle memory takes over with each gentle thrum of the chords. He hasn’t played in years, the temptation arising, but never fulfilled. He used to play for Sarah, unable to say no when she’d curl up in his lap and watch him lightly pluck the strings. Carmen would watch from the kitchen, a soft smile etched on her face seeing Joel and her daughter bonding so soon.

Whad’ya wanna hear tonight, babygirl? Should we play your ma’s favorite?

Sarah curled up with her cheek pressed against Joel’s chest, his chin came to rest along the top of her head of curls as her small fingers reached out to pluck one of the strings, the baby song, Joelie! She giggled softly, and Joel’s heart melted into a puddle.

I love you, baby

And if it's quite alright

I need you, baby

To warm the lonely night

I love you, baby…

He can never say no to you, not when you look at him with those eyes, and in a honeyed tone asking him to play you a song while you’re sitting side by side, the comforting crackle and pops from the fire pit, a light quilt draped across your thighs, and Artemis curled up in your lap, purring happily.

“Whad’ya wanna hear, baby love?” He rasps, turning his head to the side, resting his chin along his shoulder as he looks over at you.

“Something that makes you feel, Joel.”

He swallowed the growing lump rising in his throat, glancing downwards towards his fingers lightly plucking the strings, “Somethin’ that makes me…feel?” His throat felt parched, brows furrowed inwards. “Okay.” He said softly, inhaling a lungful of air, clearing his airways. “I’m shit at singin’, jus’ so you know, baby love.”

“Don’t care, Joel. I wanna hear you.” You said softly, knee brushing against his as you rested your cheek against the cushion, a gentle expression on your face, eyes soft and holding adoration.

His fingers trembled under the soft glow from the fire as he began to strum the chords, To Make You Feel My Love. He was a bit rusty at first, missing a few notes here and there, till he fell back into a comfortable familiarity.

When the rain's blowing in your face, and the whole world is on your case, I would offer you a warm embrace, to make you feel my love

When the evening shadows and the stars appear, and there is no one to dry your tears, I could hold you for a million years, to make you feel my love

I know you haven't made your mind up yet, but I would never do you wrong, I've known it from the moment that we met, there’s no doubt in my mind where you belong

I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue, I'd go crawling down the avenue, there ain't nothing that I wouldn't do, to make you feel my love, mm…

His voice was warm, raspy and lulling. It held a gentle timbre that sent a warm tingle down your spine, tugging on your heartstrings in tandem.

He stumbled over the next verse, voice cracking and fingers losing their grip on the strings. He didn’t realize he was crying, hot wet tears streaming down his cheeks until he felt your gentle palm on his jaw.

Storms— are raging on a rolling sea, down the highway of regret—

“Joel.” You said softly, thumb brushing across his cheekbone, brushing away his tears that were flowing like a river, “Joel, hey. Look at me, baby. Look at me.”

“I—I’m sorry.” He choked, “I-I’m jus’ a bit rusty is all, baby love. S’been years since I’ve played this old thing.” He sniffled, jaw clenching and unclenching as you smoothed your thumb back and forth across his damp skin.

“Joel.” You reiterated soft, yet firm.

“I don’t even understand why I’m cryin’. Where did those tears come from? They weren’t there before. Must jus’ have somethin’ in my eye. Maybe it’s the smoke from the fire—” he rambled on.

“Joel Miller.”

That seemed to catch his attention as he met your gaze, blinking a few times with dark lashes wet and glistening. His lower lip wobbled and you had never seen him like this before, never this vulnerable, never this scared. Never this afraid of judgement that would never fall upon his shoulders, because you loved him unconditionally. No amount of fat tears, or stuttered speech would deter you from loving him.

“C’mere.” You said in understanding, gently prying the guitar from his grasp and coaxed him into your awaiting arms.

He wordlessly wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tightly with his face buried against your neck. His hands slipped under the back of your hoodie, feeling desperate for skin to skin contact to further soothe his emotions. “I’m sorry…” he whispered, hot breath fanning your neck, tears soaking into the neckline of your hoodie.

“Joel, what are you sorry for? Because of your emotions?…baby, it’s OK. You don’t have to apologize for being emotional. That is nothing to be sorry for.” You said softly, letting one hand rest at the back of his head, gently scratching his scalp with your nails while the other was rubbing circles against his back.

“I know—I jus’, I got caught up in the moment s’all. It really has been years since I last played…” he trailed off.

“Do you want to talk about it?…”

“Yeah.” He sniffled, fingers gently flexing along your lower back. “I do—I jus’ need a minute.”

“It’s okay, Joel. I understand, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” You reassured him.

She loves me, for me. She’s holding me, and wiping my tears. She sees me, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now than here in her arms.

“I know.” He whispered, “I ain’t goin’ anywhere either, baby love.”

You nodded in understanding, gently brushing away a loose curl that fell across his forehead. “For all your pretty, and all of your ugly, I’m here.”

He took a few minutes to compose himself, racking through memories in his brain that were flashing like images on a silver screen. When he and Tommy went back home to Austin, Joel had reentered the dating culture expecting success, and was met with the complete opposite. Women in Texas had opposing values compared to the women he encountered in LA. It had gotten to the point where he was beginning to truly believe that he wasn’t deserving of love or partnership.

“If you want women to like you, I suggest that you seriously consider finding a new career that doesn’t exploit women for their bodies. You didn’t actually think that you’d get a free pass, did you?” His date sitting across from him laughed and reached for her purse in a haste.

He felt defeated and beaten down as he sunk further against the the back of the chair, “If you would just let me explain why I chose this career, and that I am not exploiting women for their bodies—”

“You fuck for a living, Joel. It’s disgusting. Good luck to you, cause you’re gonna need it.” She said unkindly, slinging her purse over her shoulder and walked off.

He ground his jaw back and forth, clenching his teeth together as he felt the bitter sting of rejection pierce his heart out that was laid out on his sleeve. He reached for his wallet, suddenly feeling a dozen pairs of eyes on him in the intimate restaurant. Heat spread from his neck to his face in a bright flush of embarrassment and shame.

He paid the bill, apologizing profusely to the waitress both verbally and with a handsome tip. He gathered up his feelings, tucking them back away into a box as he swiped his thumb across the side of his nose, feeling tears begin to prick and pool.

“Joel, you just haven’t met the right one yet.” Tommy tried to explain to him over a couple beers in Joel’s backyard. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. Ain’t worth it.”

Joel scoffed under his breath, taking a swig from the beer bottle as he shook his head, “Tommy, you don’t understand. Women like you. They think you’re charming and barely bat an eye when you tell them about your job, but me? As soon as the words ‘adult film industry’’, or ‘pornstar’ come out, the narrative flips. And I am apparently not a feminist, I’m a disgusting person who exploits women for their bodies and I’m a pervert.” He laughed bitterly, feeling angry tears threatening to spill over,

“How is anyone going to see my heart if they’re not willing to look past what I do for a living?” He sniffled, “I jus’ have so much fuckin’ love to give, and no one wants it, Tommy. No one.”

Tommy shakes his head, dejected, devastated for his big brother. "I don't know, Joel. But if anyone is meant for love, real, true love, it's you. So I have to hold out hope."

-

You continued to gently pet his hair and while he silently worked through gathering his thoughts. You would sit out there with him for hours if he needed more time.

“Do you ever…have memories that jus’ pop up outta nowhere? Like, you’re jus’ goin’ about your day, and you just stop because you remembered something, or a memory pops up?” He suddenly said, eyes flickering to your gaze.

“More often than I’d like to admit.” You confirmed, encouraging him to continue.

“I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I haven’t played guitar in a long time. We’re talkin’ years. I’ve lost track if I’m bein’ honest. Anyway, memories of my past just creep in every now and then, and I want you—to know those pieces of me.”

“And playing guitar brought those memories to the surface? That’s understandable, Joel.”

He nodded, confirming your assumptions. “Yeah, exactly that. Anyway, I don’t know where to start I guess?”

“Wherever you feel most comfortable?” You suggested.

“Well, remember how I told you that I quit Brazzers on my 30th birthday? I did more than just quit. I pulled a complete 180 on my life in a matter of hours.” He started, taking a deep breath before he continued, “I was in a serious relationship at the time with someone who I had seriously considered spending the rest of my life with, y’know?”

“I understand, Joel.” You said softly.

“My girlfriend, Carmen and I were together for a few years. I met her on my 27th birthday at some bar close to the apartment Tommy and I were living in at the time. It started off casual if I’m being honest. I was apprehensive of telling her about my job because I knew that it probably would be poorly received. We just—we clicked. I felt like I could be myself around her and vice versa. We started getting serious at some point, and I finally told her that I was a pornstar. She initially took it a lot better than I expected, but she had a secret of her own to tell me.”

You couldn’t help the smile that was slowly tugging on the corner of your lips as you listened to Joel recounting memories from his past before he met you.

“That secret happened to be her 6 year old daughter, Sarah. She was the sweetest kid, baby love. She was a little shy at first, but I took the possibility of being her stepfather in stride.” He glanced downwards, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he was going to smile. “I loved that little girl like she was my own. And I truly wanted Carmen and I to work out, but she never accepted me for who I was. She resented the fact that I was a pornstar, and that ultimately led to me breaking up with her. I didn’t want to fight for someone who wasn’t going to fight for me, y’know?”

“I think it’s completely understandable why you broke up with her, Joel. I think one of the bare minimum expectations in a relationship is acceptance of who you are from your partner. I could see if you were doing something harmful to either yourself or her or others, but she had no right to judge you for the choices you made in your life.” You reached for his hand, interlocking your fingers through his hand gave it a gentle squeeze. “Isn’t that what we all want in life? Is acceptance for who we are?”

“I think it was also only a matter of time before one of us was going to cut the cord. And I truly believe if I didn’t quit Brazzers that day, her and I would have still been together, but I imagine it was inevitable for us to break up. I wasn’t even mad at her for it either. I was…disappointed because I loved her unconditionally. I would have gone to the ends of the earth for her, and I just had to accept that she wouldn’t do the same for me.” He sighed, brushing his thumb across the outside of your hand in a gentle sweep.

“Did you end up telling her that you quit working at Brazzers?”

He shook his head, lips curving downwards into a frown as he met your gaze once more, “no. I never told her that I quit because she would have believed that I quit for her when that wasn’t the case. I didn’t want to compromise who I was just to appease her. And I have a feeling that if I did tell her I quit, we wouldn’t have broken up, and that would have benefited no one. It fuckin’ hurt like hell afterwards though. I jus’ remember Tommy coming back from his smoke break and he found me on my knees outside on the patio just this blubbering fuckin’ mess.” He stifled a chuckle.

“You realized that you deserved better, Joel. Not everyone comes to that realization, but you did. Life’s too short to be with someone who won’t be there for you the way that you were for them. But of course it hurt, and I can only imagine the pain that you felt after the fact because you thought that this person was your endgame. You already had the mindset of fully settling down with her, and then you had to make the tough decision with both her feelings in mind and your own. And you know what? I’m proud of you.”

He had an incredulous look plastered on his face when you said that you were proud of him. “You’re…what? I don’t understand. Why—why are you proud of me for that?”

“Because instead of staying in a relationship that was never going to work out, no matter how hard you tried, you pulled the plug and told yourself that you deserved better. And you do, Joel. It’s no one’s business to know why you chose the career path that you did. To shame and judge you for something that they’ll never understand because society views sex work as something to feel shamed for. It goes against the ideal norms that have been instilled in us since birth. People don’t like that, Joel. And that’s not to say that Carmen wasn’t good to you in some capacity, but the resentment was there and nothing was going to change that.”

“Yeah, and the person who I do deserve is sitting right across from me. I wouldn’t have met you if I didn’t pull the plug when I did. Maybe I would have never quit Brazzers and moved back to Austin to start Miller-Co. Maybe you and I…would have never met. Because you? You—fuckin’ get me. From the second that you and I met, I just got this feeling in my chest that you were going to have a major impact on my life, baby love. And as cliche as it’s gonna fuckin’ sound, I believe that everything happens for a reason.” He breathed out, big brown eyes glassy, his nose twitching as he let out a soft sniffle.

“Alright, who’s cutting the onions now? Is it you, or is it Artie?” You softly giggled, fighting through your own brewing tears because you had never loved someone so deeply till you met Joel. It was surreal to feel an instant connection to someone, but he made things easy in the sense that you could be yourself around him. You found that you could speak your mind, you could be passionate, sad, angry, happy, and he never made you feel small for your larger than life feelings. Never made you feel like you were too much, or too little. His love for you was effortless, unconditional.

“I mean it, baby love. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’ve never laughed more with another person than I do with you. I’ve never felt more honest with myself and my feelings till you walked into my life. I tried dating here and there shortly after I ended things with Carmen because I just wanted to feel something again, y’know? I just didn’t realize how judgemental people could be till I left LA. It got to the point where I felt like maybe all the women telling me that I should be ashamed, and I’m this disgusting pervert were right. Maybe a man like me isn’t deserving of love. Tommy reassured me that I just hadn’t met the right one, and he was right. I hadn’t met you yet.”

Ring. Ring. Ring. I need a fucking ring. He thought to himself.

This is going to be the man I’m going to marry, right? Please tell me he’s the one. I don’t want to do this all over again with someone else. He’s my person. I know he is. You thought.

Neither of you were sure who leaned in first, or if it was just a gravitational pull between your bodies that drew you both in, but suddenly you felt his hot breath fanning your lips, and those dark espresso colored eyes reflecting the warm glow from the crackling fire staring directly into your soul. If only you had known that he wished at that moment that he had a ring.

And when your lips met, slotting together like two puzzle pieces, it was brief due to a soft meow from your lap and Artemis had crawled her way between you and Joel, swatting playfully at one of the strings on his hoodie. He detached his lips from yours, looking down at his little fur baby with adoration as a warm chuckle slipped past his lips. “You, Missy, are a real cock blocker, y’know that?” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and gathered her up in his arms. “I’ll be right back, ‘kay? You want anything to drink? I was gonna open up a nice bottle of Chardonnay? You in, baby love?”

“Oh, a glass of Chardonnay would be lovely, baby. But hurry back, okay? I’m not finished with you yet.” You leaned over the cushion, brushing your lips against the corner of his jaw before settling back into a comfortable position.

“Oh, I ain’t finished with you either, baby love. And that’s a fact.” He winked suggestively and stood up, cradling Artemis against his chest and you watched as he headed back towards the house, and disappeared through the back door.

You let out a content sigh, gazing up at the millions of stars visible on this crystal clear night. Your thoughts consisted of Joel, and how he made you feel like you were always the only person in the room. And how your love for one another was a two way street. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d meet someone like him. And when you heard the back door open and close, and his footsteps approaching, your heart skipped a beat.

You watched as he slowly sank down against the cushion, two wine glass stems held securely in one large palm, and in the other a bottle of Chardonnay.

He looked over at you as he worked the bottle opener corkscrew into the cork, twisting it slowly with the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up over his forearms that were lightly flexing with each twist. Before he could finish opening the bottle, however, you were crawling into his lap, situating your thighs on either side of his hips as you straddled him.

He leaned his back against the cushion, pausing his movements of opening the bottle, the corners of his lips quirking upwards as you looped your arms around his neck, fingers gently playing with the curls at the base of his hairline.

“What’re you doin’, baby love?” He rasped softly.

“Can I sit on it while you finish opening that?”

“You wanna sit on my cock while I pour us a couple glasses of wine? Mmm…I had a feelin’ that’s what you were gonna ask me, baby love.” He chuckled.

“Yeah…I just want to feel you, baby. Do you want that?”

“Of course I want that, baby love. Lucky for you, I went with no underwear this evening.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully as you giggled, peppering kisses across his jawline and just below his ear.

“Is that so?” You nipped playfully at his earlobe, scraping your teeth against his skin gently.

“Mhmmm.” He rumbled out a response, feeling his cock stir to life in the loose confines of his cotton sweats. “Anytime you want, baby, all of me s'yours.” He confirmed, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

You reached between your bodies, gently palming him through the fabric as he lifted his hips upwards so you could pull his cock free. He used his freehand to help you pull your own sweats down just enough that they were over your hips, and he used his thumb to pull your panties to the side, assisting you as you grasped the base of his cock and slowly seated yourself on him.

He let out a low grunt as you shifted your hips to get more comfortable while he finished uncorking the bottle of wine with a soft pop. You felt him grow harder inside of you, the girth of his cock stretching you open as your body accommodated to his size: a perfect fit.

“Feels nice.” You both said in unison letting the feeling of being connected mind, body, and soul, wash between you.

He reached for the two glasses, somehow managing to steadily pour the wine into both and set the bottle down so it wouldn’t tip over. He handed you your glass, clinking them together gently before you both took a sip.

“Hey, Joel?”

“Yeah, baby love?” He had his head tilted back against the cushion, eyes staying locked on yours as he brought the rim of the glass to his lips and took another sip. You felt your walls clench around him just from that simple action alone.

“I think for the next video we film…I want it to be with you and Tommy.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, letting his freehand drop down and grab onto your exposed hip, pressing you in further to him as his cock twitched inside of you, “I think we can arrange that, baby love.”

You let out a soft gasp that was replaced with his warm lips kissing you, tasting the tang and sweetness from the wine on your tongue. And even though you were just sitting on him, enjoying the intertwined feeling of being connected, he dropped his hand from your hip, moving it between your bodies till he found your clit and began to rub the sensitive bud in gentle, orgasm-inducing circles till you were gushing around his cock from the stimulation alone.

He drank down your soft moans, whispering praises and sweet nothings that were only meant for your ears. And even as the fire began to die, and your glasses were empty, wine warming your bellies, you stayed like this, connected as one.

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[chaotic-mystery]

Mr. Peña

Pairing: Boss!Javi Peña x assistant!f reader (technically the photo is not from season 3 but I fully see season 3 Javi and his stressed ass needing an assistant.)

Summary: you stop by your boss’ house to drop off intel and he’s persistent about how you got said intel.

Warnings: SMUT. MDNI, this is an 18+ blog only. Power imbalance, boss/assistant dynamic, flirty work relationship hinted at, pwmp, oral (m receiving) gagging, choking, spit, sassy Javi calling you cute but not like that, dirty talk, talk of posing as a call girl, smoking, specifically Javi smoking while you suck his dick. No use of y/n! If I missed anything let me know!

Authors note: this is my submission to @iamasaddie and her Pinterest challenge with the moodboard she made for me! I love this idea and I’d love to do one soon. Thanks @pedgito for beta reading as always, here’s a cookie 🍪 wc: 1k

“Here’s what you missed today, Mr. Pena. We’re not sure where the other friend is at right now but a couple of guys are going through phone call recordings to see if they mentioned anything.” You say as you toss down the file to the current case you’d been going over all day to help Javier with. Just starting at the Embassy as an assistant wasn’t your goal but at least it got your foot in the door, to one day be a DEA agent.

Javi was standing on the other side of the small kitchen counter with a glass of scotch in his hand, tucked against his chest. He never made it back to the office after lunch time due to checking leads but he called just a little while ago to let you know you needed to swing by and drop everything new that you and some of the other DEA agents found while he was gone. Even though you were just an assistant, he made it very clear you’re his number two while he’s not in the office and to treat you with respect.

“So who found this one? He was someone we could never get a ping for the cellphone records.” Javi holds up the photo of the scumbag drug dealer and looks at you.

“Oh, that was me, Mr. Pena. I blocked caller ID and I pretended to be a um…a call girl?” It came out as more of a question but how were you supposed to confidently tell your boss that you got a drug dealer's goon on the phone while you posted as a phone sex worker.

“A call girl? Remind me what that is.” He squints at you and takes a sip of his drink as he waits

for you to clarify.

“It’s when you pose as a uh..sex worker.” You gulp awkwardly.

Javi chuckles. “What did you say to him to make him stay on long enough to get a ping?”

“I was just telling him the stuff I think you’d normally hear if you were on the phone to a call girl. Ya know..” You look away from him and your face grows warm.

The ice in Javi’s cup clink around as he sets it down on the counter to his side.

“Like what?” He persists and you finally give in, hoping he’d drop it.

“Just about how needy I was and I was looking for some fun, stuff about how I’m sure his dick is big…how he’d make me scream until the sun came up…” The lump in your throat becomes more apparent and Javi breathlessly chuckles, hand coming to his hip while he smooths his mustache. A small part of you didn’t mind talking like this to Javi, he would tend to stare at your ass when you’d walk away from his desk, or something so small as giving your hand a squeeze if he’d have to slip past behind you.

“I knew you’d figure something out, you’re so smart. You must’ve had him going good, but where did you learn to talk like that? Never pegged you for a dirty girl like that. What else did you say to him?” Javi picks up the file one more time as he leans on the island, mindlessly flipping through sheets and sheets of intel. With the dim lighting you notice his face was a slight shade of red, probably thinking about what you just said.

“Think I could suck your cock so good your head would spin?” The confidence in your tone makes you stand a little taller as Javi’s eyes keep going over papers, a small smirk on his lips.

“What’d he say to that?”

“I don’t know, I’m asking you…sir.”

The folder lowers and Javi’s eyes meet yours, the room falling silent but your heart beating in your ears.

Javi gets close to your face and he cocks his head to the side.

“You think you could handle me? That’s cute.”

Reaching out to grab his belt buckle, you give it a tug to show him you mean what you say.

“There’s only one way to find out, Mr. Pena.” You innocently say as you lower yourself to your knees. Javi sighs deeply as he grabs his pack of cigarettes off the counter and lights one, putting it between his lips while you tug down his pants.

You waste no time getting his cock into your mouth and Javi groans loudly at the feeling of your tongue swirling over the head.

He takes a puff of his cigarette and pulls it from his mouth, looking down at you. “How long have you been wanting to suck your boss off, hm? Look at that cock in your mouth, fuuuuck.”

You don’t answer with words but you shove his cock deeper down your throat and hold it there as long as you can before you gag and release, pulling back slowly.

Javi moans as he runs his hand against your head, jaw clenching at how good it feels before he puts the cigarette back in his mouth.

You jerk him off as saliva spills down the corners of your mouth and your mascara starts to run.

“Every time you’re on the phone in your office yelling at someone I can’t help but get excited. I love when you’re aggressive, Mr. Pena. So fuckin’ sexy.” You whine and slap the tip on your tongue before taking all of him in your mouth once more. The way your dirty words flow from your mouth catches him off guard, causing him to toss his head back in pleasure. More curse words with your name wrapped in the mix come out from him in moans and you grab his hip to hold him steady as you bob your head back and forth.

Javi leaves the cigarette between his pink lips while he steps out of his skin tight jeans and ditches the half buttoned shirt. “Get up, because I’m not done with you yet.”

He spins you around and puts your arms behind you, guiding you in the direction of his bedroom.

“Walk.”

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by the wonderful @chennqingg <3

Bad Decisions [EoH]

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: Making a bunch of bad decisions, you and Daryl find yourself in a dangerous situation...

Warnings: Daryl Dixon spin-off spoilers! usual TWD stuff, weapons, blood, walkers, angst, fluff, slight sexual harassment, Juno (Yes, he's a warning.), protective!Daryl, change of the series plot

Post Commonwealth/ Spin-Off series!

Word Count: 5,3k

a/n: I had a lot of fun to write this. I hope you guys like it, too.

Disclaimer: Some dialogue in this story isn't mine. I took it from the series, in order to create this story and to 'follow' the plot.

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Nothing?" You asked Daryl as he exited the small old, decaying building. He shook his head. "Nah. Ain't a drop of gas left in there." You ran your hands over your face; groaning. "Fuck."

You and Daryl had finally run out of gas entirely since days - or even weeks? And this had been the first gas station since miles...

You immediately felt Daryl's strong arms wrapping themselves around you. "We gonna find a way, I promise. Might try some old cars in that lil' village up ahead." You clung to him; nodding against his shoulder. "I know we will, it's just..." You swallowed hard. "We're so far from home, a-and... I miss our boys."

The archer pulled back from the hug; his eyes meeting yours. Guilt reflecting in the blue-grey irises. He chewed on his bottom lip. "'M sorry, sunshine. Tis my fault." You frowned; immediately cupping his stubbly cheeks. "Why would that be your fault?" You could see your man swallowing hard. "Shoulda never asked ya to accompany me. Should've let ya stay with our sons." Your expression softened at his words. "Daryl... Sweetie..." You started; pressing your forehead against his. "I would've come with you anyways. You'd have not even needed to ask me. Doing this; searching for your brother meant a lot to you - so it is important for me, too. This isn't your fault. We just have to find our way back home now." Reluctantly, Daryl nodded; accepting your 'statement'. "Yeah..." You gave him another soft smile, "Let's go." and pressed a sweet, gentle kiss on his lips.

You grabbed your backpack and slung it over your shoulders, while Daryl started to push his bike. You quickly followed; going on the other side to help him. The archer gave you a sweet look; silently thanking you. "I miss 'em too, ya know..." He says after quite a few minutes in silence. His words touched your heart. "We'll get back to them and the others. I promise."

Said and done. After Daryl's bike was on the truck's cargo area, together with you and Daryl, the man started the engine and drove down the road. You sat beside Daryl; leaned against his side with his arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders. The exhaustion from the past days and weeks crawled up on you; your bones heavy and aching. After walking day after day and trying to search for food and gas wasn't easy. Daryl felt the same. You could tell. You saw it on his face.

Just as Daryl wanted to answer something, the sound of an engine could be heard. There was a car approaching. You and Daryl exchanged a look; the car already pulling up behind you and him. You both stopped in your movements; subtly reaching for your weapons. Just in case...

The truck stopped. A man exited the vehicle; immediately lifting his hands in surrender. "Hey," he approached you slowly. "Need help, friends?" You and your husband exchanged another look; his eyes clouded with scepticism and mistrust. "Nah, we're good," Daryl answered; subtly rounding his bike and positioning himself close to you. Just in case...

"Where you two headed?" The stranger continued to question. To you, he didn't seem like a threat - for now, but Daryl clearly wasn't convinced. "We were headin' home," you answered this time. The man let out a small chuckle. "Home, huh? On a bike with no fuel?" "Why? Got some to spare?" Daryl shot back immediately. Another chuckle slipped past the stranger's lips. "Tha' depends," he started and pointed at Daryl's crossbow, which was attached to his bike. "You any good with that thing?" Before Daryl could answer, you stepped in front of your man; "Depends..." crossing your arms over your chest. "What you want us to do with it?" The strange man smiled at you, whereas Daryl was still on edge and quite tensed, but also trusted you in this. For you to make the right decision. "Walkers." "Walkers? Alright."

The stranger nodded and gestured at his old, rusty truck. "Load up the bike and we'll get goin'."

Closing your eyes for a long moment, you felt the soft breeze in your hair; thoughts wandering. "Hey... Ya alright?" Daryl's voice cut through the air then, causing you to reopen your eyes. "Yeah... Just tired... And thinking 'bout if I made the right decision... Trusting a stranger." "You'll never know tha', sunshine. We never did before." You nodded; fumbling nervously with your fingerless gloves. "I know, but... What do you think?" Daryl took a deep breath; pulling you closer. "It's a chance, right? We gotta give it a shot."

Then the strange man from earlier returned.

You drove quite a while until you reached your destination... An old gas station. The man exited the truck, while Daryl helped you down from the cargo area and unloading his bike. The archer's gaze immediately scanned his surroundings; looking out for possible threats. "Jus' grab a seat. We'll get started soon," the stranger announced as he walked towards the building. You and Daryl followed him; saw a lot of other men running around. Some of them were inside what looked like a steel cage; speaking a language which definitely wasn't English. You frowned and tried to listen closely. French. It sounded like French.

"C'mon," Daryl's gentle tug at your arm urged you to move on and follow him towards a bunch of old (car) seats; all lined up in a half-circle. Daryl took a seat - like the man told you; you sitting beside him. Four other men were already seated. Three of them older - probably in their early and mid fifties and one of them much younger. Probably not older than twenty. He held a what you assumed to be a picture in his hands; intensely looking at it. They were talking, but you couldn't exactly make out the words. Only that the group was mocking and teasing the young man.

Both, you and Daryl watched the scenes unfold; most likely thinking the same.

"Circle up! Come on, circle up, people!" He announced and everybody started to surround him; circling up. "Time is money! Come on! Let's go, let's go!" He waited until everybody's attention was fully on him, before he continued to speak. "Alright. Ground rules, fellas. Fighting will not be tolerated. Same goes with stealing or sexual deviancy of any kind. Keep your shit together." He paused and looked into the round. "No children will be accepted. Nor elderly or shorties. 5'4" is the cut off." "What do you want them for anyway?" Interrupted one of the older men, which sat on the seats a few meters beside you. "This is not your concern," answered the other man with grey hair, who stood right beside the stranger who found you. "One pint of ethanol is all you need to know."

A small discussion about the payment and some further information later, you and Daryl roamed the nearby woods for walkers. It was kinda a strange feeling to not kill them, but collect them like prisoners; lined up on a string. But neither you, nor Daryl cared. It was none of your business. All you wanted, was the promised gas. Yours and Daryl's clear advantage was that you made one hell of a team. After seventeen years of being a couple, you could work together blindly. Therefore, you 'hunted' almost twice as much walkers as the others. Well, the more the better.

Everybody was quite impressed as you brought the walkers back and handed them over. You and Daryl earned respectful glances, but also jealous ones.

After keeping a while an eye on Daryl and everything that happened around you, you decided it was time for a bit of fresh air.

Unfortunately was the amount of gas you got in return not enough and so it was soon decided that you were going to stay the night and collect some more walkers tomorrow.

"Go, get some sleep," you said to Daryl; nodding at one of the cots. "I'll keep watch. I don't trust all these people." The archer nodded, "Yeah, me neither..." and reached for your hand. "'R ya sure 'bout keepin' watch first? I know you're exhausted, sunshine, 'n I-" You shook your head and quickly interrupted him. "You're exhausted, too, sweetie. I'll be fine. Now get some sleep." Daryl chew on his bottom lip; just looking at you for several moments, before he nodded again. "Aight. Wake me if something's wrong." "'Course." He gave your hand a squeeze and let go; making his way to the cot.

It was cold. The starry and clear night sky above you. As you walked outside, you saw the group of three men from earlier sitting around a campfire; chatting and drinking. You only gave the a quick glance, before you turned to walk into the other direction. You came to stand beside an old pick-up and sat down on the cargo area; legs dangling in the air. Your gaze was directed into the sky; watching the stars shine and twinkle. You took a deep breath; thoughts wandering to Teddy and Marlo. You thoroughly hoped that they were okay. That everything at home was okay. You missed them terribly. Hence, you missed everybody terribly... You reminisced for quite a while; just listening to the crickets chirping their songs and the crackling of the fire - until your peace got disturbed...

"Hey, missy!" A voice called suddenly out to you; causing your head to snap into the direction of its origin. It was one of the older men... "What do you want?" You asked rather coldly. He didn't seem very kind. None of them did. He gave you a slimy grin. "Haven't seen such a beautiful creature in quite a long time." You frowned and sniffed. "I ask again. What do you want?" The man laughed. "If it weren't for all these prying eyes around us, I'd take you like a bitch in heat."

You were completely caught off guard by his straightforwardness. You blinked and suppressed the urge to gag at his words. "Excuse me?" You blurted out; still in disbelief. He chuckled and gave you a not very subtle once over. "You heard me, missy. Someone like you needs to be taken care of." You needed a moment to recover; certainly didn't see that coming.

Once you did, you felt the disgust and even slight anger course through your veins. You were a grown woman - not a sex object, neither a fuck toy. You stood up from where you sat and gave the man, who was still looking at you with lustful eyes, a dark, warning glare. "I'd rather not do that, if I were you," you spoke in a hushed, threatening voice. "In case you haven't noticed... I am married - and he takes perfect care of me. No need to worry. Therefore, I suggest you keep it in your pants and don't say something like that again. You'll regret it, believe me. My husband won't be so nice to you like I am now, so... Consider this as a warning," you literally snarled.

No fighting.

The man with grey hair and beard laughed; adjusting the baseball cap on his head. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, missy. The way I see it should be your 'husband' very careful in what he does... Or do I have to remind you of the rules?"

A deep frown formed on your forehead as his words echoed in your mind; the scenes from earlier unfolding in your memory and played in front of your eyes like a movie...

The man saw your reaction, of course and laughed again. "A little fun will no one notice, but a bloody nose..." He stated and gave you a wink, before returning to his friends at the campfire. You swallowed hard; troubled by what just happened and how you actually lost the verbal fight. It gave you a very uneasy feeling. Sure, you could fight and defend yourself. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that you'd have to defend yourself and most likely nobody beside Daryl would believe you what the man tried to do. And not knowing the consequences of breaking the rules wasn't exactly a benefit either... You also couldn't tell Daryl what happened. Knowing your husband like an open book, he would probably straight up lose his temper and beat the shit out of that man; his hot-headedness breaking through.

You just hoped the man wouldn't actually act on his threat.

The feeling of not being safe anymore joined the uneasiness and caused you to take the only way out you could think of...

You made your way back into the large - what you assumed what once was a workshop and headed straight for the cot your husband slept in. You squashed yourself on the small makeshift bed; cuddling against Daryl - who instinctively wrapped his arms around you with a soft grunt and held you close against his body. "Everythin' a'right, sunshine?" He mumbled; more asleep than awake. You nodded. "All good, sweetie. Keep on sleeping." You hated to lie to him, but what other choice did you have?

You immediately felt the uneasiness creep up on you again.

The next morning approached faster than you thought. Even when Daryl kept watch, you didn't get much sleep; always feeling watched. At some point you gave up and just decided to get up. The sun had barely risen, as you made your way out of the huge hall; looking for the archer. The yard was bustling with people already. A lot of them headed out to catch more walkers; others already came back with a bunch.

You found your man kneeling beside his bike; apparently checking on something. A smile grazed your lips as you approached him. "Good morning," you announced your presence; placing your hands on his broad shoulders. Daryl looked over his shoulder, before standing up. "Mornin', sunshine. Slept good?"

"No, not really." Daryl shook a few strands of chestnut brown hair out of his face; frowning. "Why? Everythin' a'right?" You felt his hand reaching for yours.

You swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah, 's just..." As if on command, a loud voice cut through the air. "Hey, Juno! Move yer ass over here! The sexy chick arose from her sleeping beauty slumber." It was a man from the trio.

You gritted your teeth; cursing internally. Fuck.

Before you or Daryl could say something, Juno appeared and threw you another slimy grin. "Thought about my offer for a quick fuck?" Juno boldly said; ignoring Daryl entirely. He didn't give a flying fuck that your husband stood right beside you. And somehow, you had the feeling he did it on purpose... As if he wanted to see Daryl lose his shit and break the rules. Your raging thoughts got interrupted by the loud snarl coming undoubtedly from your man. "Wha' did ya just say, huh?" Alone by the sound of his voice, you could tell that he was already very tensed. "I said..." Juno started; taking a step closer. "I wanna screw your girl." Daryl's brain short-circuited; his protective instinct taking over. "You say tha' again and I'll cut yer fuckin' balls off!" The archer growled and took quick steps towards Juno. Luckily, you reacted fast and literally jumped in front of your husband, before he could reach the older man. "Daryl, stop!" Placing your palms on his heaving chest, you held him back. "Please! If you punch him now, you'll get in trouble!"

That one sentence was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Daryl panted with rage. "I don care! He wants ta touch what's mine and I ain't havin' tha'!" You shook your head; frantically trying to calm him down, all the while Juno watched with a dirty smile on his face.

"He's not worth it, sweetie! Please! I-I don't want you to get in trouble! God knows what they'll do to you, so please..." The archer took another few deep breaths; gazing deeply in your eyes. But then he nodded - much to your sheer relief, "Aight." and directed his gaze on Juno; immediately moving to shield you with his body. "If ya touch 'er- No... If ya only look at 'er or say something like tha' again, I'll kill ya. I ain't lettin' you touch my wife. We clear?" Juno laughed. "Calm down, man. 'M just sayin'..." Daryl gave him a death glare and turned to walk away, in order to calm his raging nerves down. You were relieved; thinking that was it - but you underestimated Juno.

"Though, I bet it feels great havin' such a beauty wrapped 'round yerself."

Then he nodded at your husband. "Rule is rule. Take him away." And on Jones' command, the men who held Daryl in a death grip started to drag him away. Shock and fear struck your body like lightning; eyes widening. "No! Please, no! No!" You ran after them; trying to get to Daryl - who gave you a worried, sad and distraught gaze, but they easily shook you off. You were strong, but not strong enough to fight against five men alone.

Before you could even react had Daryl turned around, almost sprinted to the older man - and punched him right in the face. You could only witness in sheer horror, as Daryl knocked Juno to the ground; ready to beat the shit out of him. But before he could throw his bulky frame on the skinnier man came other men rushing towards them; pulling Daryl harshly away from Juno. Only seconds later appeared the man who picked you and Daryl off the road - the leader as you learned, Jones.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Juno lifted himself off the ground and wiped some blood off his nose. "That son of a bitch attacked me!" He immediately defended himself; pointing accusingly at Daryl. Jones turned to face your man; expression darkening. "What did I tell ya 'bout the rules? No fighting." That was the moment you woke from your state of shock. "That's a lie, Jones! Juno harassed me! Daryl only wanted to defend me! Please, you have to believe me!" The leader looked from you to Juno and back. A few moments of silence passed, in which the man was seemingly contemplating of what to do.

Daryl knew that fighting against Jones' orders would only cause more damage. Therefore he just accepted his fate; knowing that at least you were safe. Hopefully. He'd find his way back to you. He always did.

"Please! Don't! Don't take him away from me!" You were still fighting; watching with tears in your eyes how they handcuffed Daryl and loaded him in a van. It felt like a déjà-vu. All the times you had to watch somebody taking the man you loved away from you. And every time you were powerless.

Not anymore.

"Take me with you! Wherever you take him... I'm going, too. I won't leave my husband." You almost pleaded Jones'; standing in front of him with your hands lifted in surrender. The man gave you an incredulous look; clearly not wanting to do that. After all, you were innocent. You played by the rules. "Please..."

Jones took a deep breath, but nodded. "Load 'er up."

And they did.

Your breath was laboured. Fingers twitching nervously; hands cuffed behind your back. You didn't know where the vehicle was taking you. Your vision was sorely afflicted - thanks to the sack which had been draped over your head. All you knew was that you were in a different van than Daryl. After what felt like an eternity, the van finally stopped in his motion and no minute later got the doors ripped open. There were voices shouting something - but again you didn't understand them. French.

You had no time to dwell on the questions in your head, since you got rather harshly pulled to your feet and out of the vehicle. "Bouge ton cal! Allons, allons, allons!" ("Move your ass! Let's go, let's go, let's go!") You heard another male voice shout, before you got pushed forward; urged on to walk.

Turning left and right, you were brought further into the heart of the ship; passing by two cages, which were installed in the belly of the ship and also filled to the brim with walkers. But it were the signs which gave you chills... 'Fast' and 'Feed'. You swallowed hard.

After a few minutes of getting led to only God knows where, the sack got removed from your head - and what you then saw caused your eyes to almost pop out of your head. You were on a ship. On a fucking ship! And not just a little fisherman's boat - nu.uh! It looked like a former freighter!

You got once again dragged along by a strange man. Looking around anxiously, you searched for Daryl, but you couldn't see him. What you did saw, though, were dozens of cargo container. Some of them were open and revealed the horror inside. Labs and walkers. They were experimenting with walkers?! This realisation didn't make you feel better. Not in the slightest...

What did you and Daryl get yourselves into?

You could've cried in sheer relief.

You reached a cargo container with a steel wire door, which got opened for you to be thrown inside. The force of the shove was so strong, that you lost balance and fell to your knees; hitting the ground with a painful huff. The cage door shut closed and you heard a key turning in a lock.

"Y/N?" The gruff voice of your husband urged to your ears then. You looked up and saw him standing above you; frowning, shocked and with fresh blood dribbling from his lip.

Your words and gesture melted his heart; caused his expression to change again. "Sunshine..." You smiled up at him; gazing deeply into his beautiful eyes. The both of you were about to lean in for a kiss - despite the blood, of course, when your short moment of intimacy got harshly interrupted by a toe curling scream. You quickly let go of Daryl and stormed to the steel wire door; looking what was happening. It was already pitch black outside, but the ship you were on was brightly lid with flood lamps. Therefore, you had to witness with horror, how a man got thrown into one of the two walker pits. Your eyes widened in realisation. Feed.

"Daryl!" You panted and threw yourself immediately in his arms. He caught you with a grunt and held you close for a few moments, before he released you again. The frown on his face got replaced by worry, fear and frustration. "Whatcha doin' here?!" You swallowed hard; suppressing the tears. "I-I didn't want to lose you again. I've lost you too many times... And all the times you got taken away from me, I couldn't do something about it. This time I could."

Daryl sighed frustrated. "Goddammit, woman! Ya would've been safe there! Now you ain't - and I don know if 'm able to protect ya!" You quickly shook your head and cupped his cheeks in your hands. "I wouldn't have been safe there, sweetie... I'm only safe with you."

"O-Oh my gosh..." You felt Daryl's presence behind you; his arms wrapping around your middle and securing your back against his chest. A reassuring gesture. "I-Is this... going to happen to us, too?" Daryl didn't answer for a moment. "Daryl?" You turned your head to face him; seeing how he chew on his bottom lip. "Guess so, yeah..." He finally answered then; causing nervousness to rise within you once more. You took a deep breath and tried to keep a cool head. This wasn't the first hairy situation you two found yourselves in, so...

"Okay... How are we going to escape this hell?" A small smirk tugged at the corners of the archer's lips. That's my girl, he thought. "Well..."

You looked at him with wide eyes; shocked. "Wha'? That... That's your plan?" He nodded; taking your hand and giving it a squeeze. "You need ta trust me on tis, sunshine. Can ya do tha'?" You swallowed hard. "Daryl... You know I trust you blindly, but... This is risky... W-What if it goes wrong a-and you-" You didn't dare to voice your thoughts. "It ain't goin' wrong, I promise." You took another moment to dwell on Daryl's plan, but then nodded. "Alright. Let's do it." Daryl gave you a nod and reopened the wound on his lip; making it bleed again. A short painful hiss left his lips; causing you to grimace. You hated to see him in pain. "Daryl..." "'S alright," he reassured you immediately and proceeded to lay on the cold, hard ground. "Do it."

You took a deep breath, gave him a last look and turned to grip the steel wire door. "Hey! Hey!" You screamed; rattling and banging your fist against the steel. "Hey! You gotta help me! This bastard is throwing up blood! If he dies, he's gonna turn in here!" You even used your feet to make a racket. "Hey! You hear me! I need help!"

After a few minutes came finally two men - strangers to you, and went to turn the key in the lock. "Finally! Took you long enough! He could've died by now!" The man who unlocked the lock gave you a death glare, opened the door and rather harshly shoved you aside. "Outta the way!" You stumbled backwards; back hitting the wall. "Hey!"

The other man followed; both of them taking a critical look at Daryl, who - as if on command, spit out some blood. Kudos to his hurt lip. The men exchanged a look and gave him a hard kick in the ribs, before they harshly gripped him by his arms and dragged him out of the container; locking the door behind them again. You immediately ran back up to the door and watched; witnessing how Daryl got taken away. Your job was done. The acting over.

You could feel your heart beating in your throat; hoping, praying that this would go well...

He quickly made his way to you and hastily opened the steel wire door.

Daryl was brought to the 'Feed' pit with walkers. He got thrown on his knees on the edge; hungry walkers reaching for him. His breath was laboured; adrenaline flooding his body. The two men stood left and right beside him; hands clasping his shoulders and holding him up.

The archer knew that he had to act now - or never. So, he took a deep breath and rammed his elbow in the one man's stomach and punched the other one in the face. After shoving one in the pit and sending a bullet through the man's head who opened the pit, he also took the third one out - who was rudely wearing his vest, like you noticed.

You saw your husband slipping inside his beloved angel-winged vest, stealing the keys and opening the doors of all the cargo containers on his way back to you; letting out all the walkers - just in time. Loud voices already could be heard alongside gunshots. Daryl's actions didn't stay unnoticed, of course.

Daryl tried to understand how to actually get the lifeboat in the water, while you were on watch. Gunfire, screams and familiar snarls echoed from everywhere. The deck below you was a battlefield. For now, you'd be safe. That's what you thought. But then fell your gaze on a walker, which was suddenly running around a corner and slamming against the wall. Your eyes widened. Running. A running walker. "Uhh, Daryl?" You addressed your husband; eyes fixated on the walker. "Jus' a few more minutes. Almost got it." You watched with horror, as the walker took a few steps back and looked up at you; right in your eyes and flashing his rotting teeth at you. "S-Sweetie..." "Almost."

"You did it! Thank god!" You almost cried; throwing yourself in his arms. Daryl reciprocated your hug, "'Course, sunshine. Told ya." but not for long. "C'mon. We gotta go. We gotta get off this thing, c'mon," he said and let go of you; taking your hand and dragging you after him.

You both ran; leaving the chaos Daryl had caused behind and headed for the little lifeboat your husband had spotted as he was brought on board. You followed him wordlessly; panting, turning corners left and right and climbing steps. You were quite aware that your time was ticking. These people weren't stupid and knew who caused this. No doubt that they'd search for you at some point - but unfortunately, something else found you first...

Either you were going mad, or you truly watched the rotting corpse smile spitefully at you - and then started to climb the steps. Fast.

Your eyes widened even more - if that was possible; heart speeding up and pumping adrenaline through your veins. "Daryl!" You screamed now, and he finally turned his head; in time to watch the walker climb the last steps. You both had no weapons. No guns, no knives and certainly not his crossbow - or to say it straight... You were fucked.

"Can ya somehow distract him?" You swallowed hard; not knowing if that was going to work. "I-I'll try, but I have the feeling that this one is quite sma- Oh my god!" You couldn't even finish your sentence, before the walker started to run straight at you. Your heart almost leaped out of your chest as you focused to dodge it in the right moment. Luckily, you did and it crashed full force against one of the steel posts - and accidentally triggered the mechanism to let the lifeboat to water.

You looked up; eyes meeting Daryl's. "We gotta jump, Y/N!" You nodded at him. "Go!" Your husband scoffed loudly. "Hell nah! 'M not leavin' ya alone with this thing. You go first!"

You shook your head. "'M not leaving you with this walker either!" "Damnit, sunshine! We ain't havin' time to discuss this! Jump. Now!"

You swallowed hard, but gave in; running past the walker. Without thinking, you jumped over the railing; hoping to land not too painful. Luckily, you didn't. You landed in the water, beside the lifeboat and quickly climbed inside. Then your gaze immediately shot up; hoping to see Daryl. "Daryl!" You called out; worried sick that he wasn't able to escape the walker. Tears streamed already down your face, as you wanted to call out for him again - but then you witnessed him jumping over the railing as well and diving into the water. You quickly moved and reached for him; helping him inside the lifeboat.

He was breathing heavily; almost panting. "Are you okay?!" You immediately asked in a panicky voice; one hand tugging back loose, dripping wet curls from his face and the other resting on his heaving chest. Daryl saw your worry and nodded; placing a reassuring hand on your hip. "'M fine, sunshine. You good, too?" You nodded as well. "Y-Yeah."

Then Daryl shifted; moved to get the oars. "We have ta get away from-" Before he could finish his sentence, shattered a loud explosion the water. Daryl's eyes were glued at the fire and smoke for a moment, but then he started to navigate the lifeboat away from the ship. In safe distance, you watched how the flames on deck climbed higher. Wordlessly, Daryl took you in his arms; the both of you just happy that you were alive.

"Let's go back home, eh?" You nodded. Home. The only place you desperately wanted to be now. Reunited with your children.

Tags: @suniloli @stitchintimefan @in-this-minute @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @fuseburner @mandywholock1980 @celtic-crossbow @lou12346789 @mischief-dream @km-ffluv @crimson25 @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @sweetz1919 @erebus-et-eigengrau @marvelcasey05

[arcane-vagabond]

Sleeping With the Fishes

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

Trigger Warnings: Language, Dead animals, Injury to self, Reader is a bit of an idiot, Baboons, Bradley not understanding boundaries, The boys make fun of Boots. I think that's it.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: He's finally here! What do you guys think?? This blog is 18+ ONLY! As always, reblogs and comments are welcomed and encouraged!! Find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabondwhere all of my stories and drabbles are posted!

Series Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Moodboard 3

You woke up to the sound of yelling coming from the boys’ tent. You scrambled out of the sheets, barely pulling on a pair of shorts over your underwear before running out of the tent and towards the camp. All three men were standing outside the tent, looking uneasily at each other.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, a little out of breath from your run. “What happened?”

“Well,” Bob started, glancing over at Jake as the blond ran a hand through his hair.

“Wild man left a goddamn fish in my bed,” he snapped, glaring disdainfully into the tent.

“He what?” You questioned, pushing past them to look in through the opening. Sure enough, a large, bloody fish sat atop the usually pristine sheets. You grimaced, backing up to stand with the others. “What kind of fish is that?”

“What?” Jake hollered, looking at you incredulously. “Who gives a shit? There’s a fish in my bed, Boots!”

“Do you think he’s threatening you?” Javy asked thoughtfully, stroking the length of his jaw as he eyed the fish. Jake turned to look at him, a surprised look on his face as if the thought only just crossed his mind. He looked back at the fish with pursed lips.

“Bradley isn’t like that,” Bob assured, placing a gentle hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

“There’s a fish in my bed,” Jake gritted out, waving wildly towards the tent. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Quit being such a baby about your gift,” you scowled. Jake began to splutter, face going red as he fought to form a coherent thought. At that same moment Ice and Maverick came walking up from where they had been fixing dinner.

“What’s going on?” Maverick asked, glancing around at your little group. Jake pointed a finger into the tent, taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The two older men pushed past you and Javy to peer into the tent, their eyebrows shooting up their foreheads at the sight.

“Huh,” Maverick laughed out. “He must have seen you working with the plants this past week.”

Jake stared at him for a second, blinking slowly as he processed what the brunette just said.

“Pardon?”

“He sees me growing some of the food here,” Maverick explained, gesturing towards the small patch of land he had set aside to grow some vegetables for the camp. “I use fish from the river to help fertilize the crops. He helps me with it sometimes, in fact. He must have thought you’d want some fish to help with your research.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” you sighed. Jake stared at you, an unreadable expression that slowly morphed into one of distraught.

“But,” he murmured, waving uselessly back at the fish, “my bed? Why?”

“Now that is a bit of a mystery, I’ll admit,” Maverick hummed, staring confusedly at the bed. Ice rolled his eyes.

“Is it though?” He muttered, giving you a knowing look. You shifted uncomfortably. Surely he wasn’t implying…

“Boots, we’re going to have to take a raincheck on going down to the waterfall,” Jake sighed, looking at you now.

“What?” You frowned. “No way! It won’t take you that long to clean up! We can just go after!”

“This is going to take me forever to clean up,” he argued, shaking his head. “No, we’ll just go tomorrow or something.”

“Jake, if I have to spend one more day in this godforsaken camp, I’m going to lose my mind,” you scowled. “I’ll just go on ahead and you can meet me when you’re finished. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a terrible idea,” he frowned. “The jungle is dangerous, Boots. God only knows what’s out there waiting to snatch you up.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you snapped, glaring at him. “I’m just as capable as the rest of you. I can take care of myself. Javy, tell him.”

Javy sucked in a breath, eyes darting between the two of you as you waited for him to say something.

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable getting in the middle-”

“Useless,” you hissed, turning back to Jake. “Jake Seresin, I am a capable woman who can take care of herself. I’ve done this plenty of times before when you aren’t here to infantilize me.”

He mulled over your words, glancing at the others before sighing.

“Fine,” he relented, “but don’t go too far, okay? I’ll join you when I’m finished with this. Hopefully, it won’t take me too long.”

You smiled in victory, turning to head back to your tent and get ready. It didn’t take you long, just changing into a fresh set of clothes and filling up your canteen with water before grabbing your backpack. You were just about to leave camp and head towards the falls when Maverick stopped you.

“I packed you some lunch,” he said, handing you an old container. You took it from him, smiling gratefully as you shoved it into your backpack.

“I’m guessing there’s something else you wanted to say to me?” You asked, earning a chuckle.

“Just,” he hesitated, shoving his hands in his pockets as he gazed into the jungle, “be careful. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Jake, but Bob and I spotted a leopard by the river not too long ago. It’s possible it’s moved out of the area, but I wanted to let you know just in case. Just stay vigilant.”

“Yeah, I will,” you smiled, readjusting the strap on your shoulder.

“I’m sure Bradley will be keeping an eye on you too,” he added. “You should be fine.”

“Thanks, Mav,” you nodded, turning and heading into the jungle before you.

The sun shone brightly, some of the rays penetrating through the canopy above. It was strange being out in the wilderness by yourself, the strange new noises keeping you slightly on edge as you continued to trek through the leaves. You took another swig from your canteen, the cool liquid easing the unsettling warmness that surrounded you. You tried in vain to wipe away the sweat accumulating on your forehead, letting out a frustrated sigh and grunt of disgust when you just ended up smearing more sweat onto your face. You shoved the canteen back into your pack, stopping when you heard a chattering sound coming from up above.

You looked skyward, seeing a couple of baboons racing along the trees. You grabbed blindly for your notebook, eager to jot down some notes and sketches of the creatures for Ice and Bob to go over when you returned. You trotted after them, now digging in your bag for a pen as you continued after them. The baboons noticed you, chattering at each other loudly as they took you in. Seeming to taunt you, they waved their arms at you, tilting their heads as if to say “can’t catch me.” You huffed out a chuckle, twisting and turning through the trees as you chased them. You were so caught up in trying to jot down some notes that you didn’t notice the dip in the ground or the tree root that arched out of the dirt beneath you. You fell with a panicked yelp, hitting your head on another one of the large roots, the world going dark around you.

You weren’t sure how long you had been out, probably not too long since the sun still beat down through the canopy. You touched the sore spot on your head, wincing at the slight sting, but sighing with relief when you checked your fingers and found no blood.

The baboons were still shrieking and chattering above you, almost as if they were laughing at your unfortunate predicament, and you cast an errant glare upwards at them. Damn monkeys.

An ache rippled up your leg from your ankle, and you bit your lip as you shuffled back to lean against one of the trees, hoping against all odds that you hadn’t done anything too bad to it.

Your head pounded, a wave of dizziness running through you that was most certainly not helped by the intense humidity and heat of the jungle. You let out a groan as you experimentally moved your ankle, hissing when a jolt of pain ran up your leg. Yeah, definitely sprained. You huffed out a sigh, leaning your head against the trunk of the tree.

The cacophony of noises did little to ease your aching head, and you wished you had waited for Jake to finish cleaning his bed like he had insisted. Now you were stuck out in the jungle, hoping and praying someone would find you before something else did.

You groaned at the thought of what Jake would say if he could see you now. That smarmy look he’d give you as he looked you over. The “I told you so” that would follow. You would never hear the end of it, but a chilling thought ran through you. The guys had to find you before Jake could be his insufferable self, and as far as they knew, you would be down by the waterfall. How far away were you? You scolded yourself for straying away from the trail markers that had been laid out. How was anyone supposed to find you now? You sniffled, biting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

You checked your canteen, grimacing at the sound of the half empty container. Setting it down with a thud you gazed at the canopy above, wiping the sweat from your brow. It could be hours before someone realized you were missing. You hoped sooner.

Another wave of emotion rushed over you, and this time you allowed yourself to let a few tears slip down your cheeks. How could you be so foolish?

The sound of rustling foliage drew your attention across the small clearing, your heart rate picking up at the sound. Your thoughts raced back to what Maverick had told you before you left the camp. Bob and I spotted a leopard by the river not too long ago. Inwardly groaning, you lamented about your situation, hoping that whatever was hiding in the foliage wasn’t a giant cat. You stayed as still as possible, praying for whatever it was to continue on. From the sounds of it, whatever it was, was huge, and it was getting closer.

You gripped your canteen in your hand, ready to throw it at whatever came out of the dense leaves. It wouldn’t do any lasting damage, but perhaps it would daze the creature long enough for you to scramble away and towards help. Surely Jake was done by now? How long had you been out here?

You bit back a shriek as the leaves parted to reveal...a man?

He was tall—huge really, and so unfairly handsome. Tanned skin stretched across bulging muscles, caramel brown hair curling at the top of his head. It was his eyes though, that captured your attention. Deep, mesmerizing honey-colored eyes that stared at you intensely, as if trying to make sense of you.

"Who the hell are you?" You asked, voice tight as he crouched down, inching closer to you with slow moments. "Where did you come from?"

He didn't answer as he crept closer, his movements almost like that of the apes you observed during your travels. His hand reached towards you, his knuckles brushing against the tips of your fingers. You jerked your hand back, regarding him wearily.

"Human?" He asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Me?" You spluttered, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. "Of course I'm a human! What did you think I was?"

His eyes narrowed at you, his lips pressing into a thin line as he seemed to consider you.

"Not like any human I have seen," he spoke, his English seemingly broken. "What kind?"

It took you a second to figure out what he was asking you.

"I'm a woman," you told him, a sense of unease filling you. Was this the man that Ice and Mav had told you about? What was his name again? Bradley, right?

“Seen you at the camp,” he continued, watching you for a moment. “Smell good.”

Your cheeks warmed even further at the comment, and you cleared your throat before shifting where you sat, wincing as the movement jostled your ankle. Bradley glanced down at the swollen appendage, frowning at the redness that seeped to the surface.

“Hurt?” He asked, leaning forward, his face so close to yours. You swallowed thickly, eyes roving over his face and hesitating on his lips. The facial hair that sat atop it wasn’t a bad look on him, quite the contrary actually, and for a second you wondered what it would be like to feel it on the skin of your thighs as he-

You blinked rapidly, trying desperately to clear the depraved thoughts from your head. You chalked it up to the combination of the African heat and the fact you hadn’t been laid in God only knows how long. You cleared your throat and briefly met his gaze before looking away.

“Yes,” you answered him, cursing at the shakiness of your voice. “I think I hurt my ankle when I fell. Do you think you could go back to the camp and tell the others where I am?”

Bradley frowned at you before shaking his head.

“Boots hurt,” he rumbled. “Can’t leave here.”

“Then how do you expect the others to—hey!”

You yelped when Bradley slid one large hand under your knees, the other coming up to rest on your back as he lifted you off the ground. You scrambled to find purchase, finally wrapping your arms around his neck, eyes widening when he turned to look at you, face so close, your noses were practically touching. You tried desperately not to think of the hard curves of muscle you were being held against, willing yourself to think about anything else.

“This is,” you began, swallowing thickly as you stared into his eyes, “this is not the most practical way of doing this.”

He stared at you for a moment, blinking at you in confusion.

“Practical?”

“You know,” you mumbled, tearing your eyes away from him, “the best way to do this.”

He frowned at that, giving you a challenging look as his grip on you tightened. You gasped as he held you closer, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Can you walk?”

“What?” You blinked. He chuckled, bringing his face even closer to yours which was not helping you form a coherent sentence.

“Can you walk?” He repeated, the corners of his lips tugging up just a hair. You processed his question, scowling at him once you realized he was messing with you.

“No,” you huffed, meeting his gaze with a glare. He gave you a smirk as he turned and started walking through the jungle.

“You don’t have to be so smug, you know,” you grumbled, relaxing a little when you felt confident that he wouldn’t drop you. He hummed, the smirk still painted on his face as he continued on.

“So you know what smug means, but not practical?” You groused. Bradley spared you a look before turning his attention back to where he was walking.

“Ice calls Maverick smug,” he supplied. You hummed, but didn’t say anything else as the two of you carried on.

“Boots?” Bob asked as you and Bradley appeared from the jungle. He was standing by the fire pit, a confused look on his face as if he couldn’t quite figure out what it was he was looking at. Jake and Javy glanced up at the sound of your name, the blond scrambling to his feet when he saw you in the arms of the wild man.

“What happened?” He asked, crossing the distance to come stand beside you. Bradley let out what could only be described as a growl as he swung you away, fixing Jake with a glare. Jake gaped at him, jaw slack. “What the hell-”

“Bradley?”

All of you turned to see Ice and Maverick walking up from the other side of the camp, looks of concern as they glanced between you and the man whose arms you were still currently in.

“I, uh,” you stammered, glancing around at everyone. “I fell.”

“You fell?” Jake asked accusingly, already eyeing your swollen ankle.

“I was following some baboons,” you admitted, refusing to meet his gaze. You could already feel the accusatory look he was giving you. “I was taking notes, and I tripped over some tree roots. Bradley found me and brought me back here.”

“You were supposed to go straight to the river,” Jake accused.

“Yeah, I know.”

“You strayed off the path, didn’t you?”

“Jake-”

“Dammit, Boots,” he growled, running a hand over his face. “You could have been seriously hurt!”

“Speaking of,” Ice interrupted, moving forward to examine your ankle. “Let’s get you looked at. Bradley, would you mind setting her over here?”

Bradley looked over at the bench that Ice gestured to, pausing for a moment before walking over. He plopped down, situating you on his lap, his arms still wrapped around your middle. You let out an indignant squeak, glaring when both Javy, Jake, and Bob snickered, trying to cover them up with coughs.

“Looks like wild man is already attached,” Javy quipped, earning another glare.

“Why don’t you come over here and say that,” you snapped, feeling the heat on your cheeks grow even warmer. Ice looked like he was struggling not to laugh as he crouched in front of you, and you just barely caught the smirk that Maverick had on his face. You winced as Ice began his examination, biting your lip from the pain. You felt Bradley’s arms tighten around you, and you gripped onto his arm a little tighter to keep from crying out at the red hot spike of pain that shot up from your ankle.

“Looks like you sprained it,” Ice finally announced. You let out a groan, leaning back into Bradley as you rolled your eyes.

“Just my luck,” you grumbled. “How long am I stuck here for?”

“I’d say at least four,” he surmised. “Maybe six if you don’t keep off of it.”

“Looks like wild man will just have to carry her around everywhere,” Javy snickered, Bob and Jake joining in with him.

“Would you be quiet?” You growled. “This is going to be a nightmare!”

“Serves you right,” Jake smirked, that smarmy look you hated already on his face. “You should have waited for me.”

“I hate you,” you mumbled, crossing your arms with a huff. Ice chuckled, moving to stand.

“Bradley, would you mind bringing Boots to the medical tent for me? I should have a bandage for her to wear.”

You scrambled once again as Bradley lifted you, clinging to his shoulders as he began to walk after Ice across the camp. The three boys were barely holding in their laughter as they watched you, breaking out into fits of giggles as you flipped them off.

Bradley was none the wiser as he held you, his hold gentle as he took care to not jostle you too much. You supposed the next couple of weeks wouldn’t be so bad.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Elks Version 2.0

My fanfiction writing journey began in February of this year. Prior to that, I had never written anything akin to fanfic or fiction for my own enjoyment. On March 19 I was finally able to shush the anxiety and second-guessing of stepping into the world of sharing my words. Thanks to @ohheypedrito’s steadfast enthusiasm along with @justagalwhowrites’ kind words and guidance I hit post on Golden Walkway. Since then I've shared over 100,000 words and had the support of countless kind souls. Some of those kind souls have looked through my writing and marked it up making me better at the craft. With all of this newly acquired knowledge, I look back on some of my earlier works and really see the holes that needed to be filled by more practice. If I'm being honest, that's why it's been so hard for me to continue on my first multi-chapter fic; the ugly voice inside my head wants me to just call it quits and give up because the writing doesn't match the caliber I hold myself to. I can't allow that to happen. So, with all of that being said, I have made the decision to go back and re-edit my first multi-chapter fic Elks. Soft Jackson Joel meets a shy, artsy girl who loves music and has somewhat of a smart mouth and wooow they fall for each other? Shocking, I know. This story means a lot to me, and is definitely me coping with what just might rear its ugly head during season two. That's what I love about fanfic, we can choose any new adventure for our blorbo.

My plan is starting next week, on the 9th, I will repost the edited *first* chapter of Elks, along with a small ficlet from Joel's perspective, moodboard, and playlist for each selected chapter. Each week you can expect the same thing, until I catch up to the unpublished chapters my Google Docs hold. I've never done anything like this before and I'd really love to have y'all participate if you'd like. One of the best parts of this whole journey has been meeting so many new friends and sharing in the fun of the PPCU. I hope you'll join me. Comment, reblog, send me a DM, stick a post-it note to my back, and I'll add you to the taglist. You can participate as little or as much as you'd like, so much of this is just me thanking scared-to-post past Mallory for stepping foot on this new journey that has turned into a fun and fulfilling hobby. As always, thanks for reading. 💕

[lowkeychenle]

The Last Straw [ZCL] (M)

Description: Chenle has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. Being in love with him isn't easy, until you find out he reciprocates those feelings (thanks to Cockblocker!Jaemin).

(This was requested!! Thank you for the request and I'll respond to the ask with this link <3)

Genre: Fluff/Smut

Content Warnings: Explicit (protected) sex, I have a thing for Chenle saying pretty girl so excuse that in almost all of my Chenle fics rip me, Chenle is just perfect okay but also sassy

Word Count: 3,742

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (feat. Cockblocker!Jaemin because he's a mess)

Juliet's Masterlist

(also I made a moodboard for this one instead of using gif and i think the moodboards are so much more fun so I'll prolly make these from now on! Disclaimer: I don't own any of these photos!)

“Respectfully, if you don’t knock that off, I’m gonna swat you upside the head.” You give Jaemin a pointed look from your spot on Chenle’s couch. “You’re just mad that he beat you again.”

“He cheated.” Jaemin crosses his arms over his chest, returning your glare with ease. “No way he’s actually that good at this shit.”

“I think I’m pretty good at everything, honestly.” Chenle shrugs, leaning back against the cushion and resting his arms along the top, fingertips brushing your shoulder.

You and Chenle have been best friends for years. Longer than he’s known Jaemin, that’s for sure. No way would you take Jaemin’s side over Chenle’s, even if he so happened to be in the wrong.

You look at him with a smile, which he returns, brow quirking in response. Jaemin grimaces at the two of you.

“At least let me leave before you start making out.” He scrunches up his nose. “Disgusting.”

The tips of your ears burn as your attention shoots over to Jaemin. At the same time, Chenle launches a throw pillow in his direction, leaning forward as if he’s about to stand up. Jaemin holds his hands up in mock surrender as he swats it away.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” he says, running his fingers through his faded pink hair. “And don’t have too much fun by yourselves.”

When the door closes behind him, it leaves you and Chenle in awkward silence. You can’t lie and say you’d never thought about kissing him, but not recently. If ‘recently’ is only the past few days. There’s something about the general confidence Chenle has that makes you curious.

“Um.” Chenle clears his throat, pressing his lips together in a thin line. “Wanna pick something to watch? I’ll make popcorn.”

“Absolutely.” You give an exaggerated nod, lunging forward to grab the remote off the coffee table.

You think everything will go back to normal after he returns with a bowl. He sits next to you, putting his arm over your shoulders again and shifting until he’s pressed comfortably against you. This isn’t abnormal, but for some reason, it has your heart racing much faster than it should.

The show plays for maybe two minutes before he clears his throat. You think nothing of it until he does it again, pulling your attention to his face. The lights inside the house are off, but the sun is resting just above the horizon, painting an orange glow on his skin.

“What’s wrong with you?” you ask. “Do you need some water? You haven’t even had any popcorn yet.”

He blinks. Once. Twice. His eyes even flutter across your face.

“This is weird. What’s going on?” You frown at him.

“Have you ever thought about it?” He quirks an eyebrow.

You chuckle. “Thought about what?”

“Nevermind. Forget it.” He shakes his head, leaning back with a slight pout to his lips.

“No, tell me.” You gently smack his chest. “Don’t do that.”

“Fine. Just remember you made me say this,” he grumbles, sitting up again. He’s only inches away from you like this. “Have you ever thought about kissing me?”

“I mean…yeah.” You shrug. “We’re around each other all the time. I’ve literally seen you kiss people before. Nothing wrong with a little curiosity, you know?”

“Why haven’t you asked?”

“Asked what?” You laugh before you stop yourself. “To kiss you? Are you insane?”

“You just said you wanted to,” he points out, shifting closer. “Why wonder when you can know for real?”

“You want to?” Your eyes widen as they dart down to his lips unintentionally.

You watch his pupils dilate, his eyelids threatening to flutter shut as he nods. He’s so close to you, you feel his short, choppy breaths. What the hell are you doing? This is the last thing that should happen—in no world is Chenle kissing you a good idea. You’ll fall into a rabbit hole and probably accidentally admit how you want more than that.

No way in hell you’re going to stop him when he’s looking at you like that, though. He hesitates, meeting your gaze one last time, a thousand questions moving from his mind to yours. There’s only one you need to answer, and you do. Slowly, you nod.

The initial brush has sparks igniting along your skin, and you instinctively grip onto the sleeve of his T-shirt. Usually, he’d tease you for something like that. He’d say something about how you’re trying to strip him down, but he doesn’t seem to have any other thought besides kissing you right now. This is the most attractive you’ve ever seen him.

When he really kisses you, his full lips pressing gently against yours, you swear electricity courses through the two of you, the sparks enough to make you gasp. You’d imagined this plenty of times, but never did you think it could be like this.

He sighs, bringing his hand up to weave it through your hair. You push yourself closer to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

The second his tongue runs across your bottom lip, you let out a short, quiet moan. Instead of taking a moment to tease you about it, he uses the opening. The two of you battle for dominance, but when his thumb rubs against your scalp, you know you’re no match for him.

Everything around you heats up, and as much as you hate to deny it, you feel your panties dampen. Your body tingles with excitement as he guides your back down against the couch, finding the spot between your legs he fits in perfectly. No matter what, you don’t dare open your eyes or pull away right now. If this is a dream, you sure as hell don’t want to wake from it.

As he settles on top of you, you gasp when you feel him semi-hard through his shorts. Before you can psych yourself out of it, you reach for the hem of his shirt and start sliding it up. He takes the hint, pulling away to tug the fabric over his head. Unfortunately for you, you don’t have time to admire him before his lips are on yours again.

“I was almost all the way home when I—what the fuck?” A familiar voice from the doorway has Chenle launching away from you.

The trance is broken, the moment is gone, and all you’re left with is burning cheeks and instant shame under Jaemin’s scrutiny.

Chenle scrambles for his shirt, and instead of putting it back on, he puts it over his lap in a poor attempt to hide his arousal. You can’t bring yourself to sit up, your palms still flat on your face.

“I didn’t know you guys actually did that.” Jaemin grins, placing his hands on his hips and smiling widely. “Good job, buddy.”

“We don’t.” Chenle rolls his eyes. “What did you even need?’

“I left my jacket here.” Jaemin points over to the kitchen, where it’s draped over one of the dining room chairs.

“Okay…so how about you grab it…and you go?” Chenle glances up to the ceiling, as if he’s asking for strength, and then blinks rapidly at Jaemin. “Like, now.”

You still haven’t moved, only spreading your fingers apart to look at Chenle. 

“Right. Yeah, duh.” Jaemin rushes to get it, not acknowledging either of you again until he’s at the door. He stops, reaching into his pocket for his wallet before he tosses something at Chenle. “Make sure you’re safe! Bye!”

He leaves, and when you finally get the courage to look up, Chenle has his head in his palm. A condom is about a foot in front of him, sending another wave of embarrassment to your face.

“So…” Chenle trails off. “Maybe we should rewind the show.”

Disappointment flutters around your heart. “Uh, yeah. Sure.” You gulp and grab the remote. Regardless of how much you wish you could yell at Jaemin for interrupting, the urge to continue doesn’t subside.

“(Y/N).” He sighs, brows furrowing. “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to do that again.” He leans his head back on the couch, and this time, you pay close attention to the expanse of his neck. The two of you don’t hide things from each other, so nothing is off limits—you’ve heard all about the things he likes, and neck kisses are one of his weaknesses. Your mouth waters at the thought of it.

“Me too.”

“But I need you to know it’s not just…it’s not all I want.” He closes his eyes, cringing at his own words.

Your brain doesn’t compute what he means at first—you assume something completely different. “Are you saying you want to have sex?”

His attention shoots to you. “No! Well, yeah, but that’s not what I meant by that. I have feelings for you, dumbass."

“For me?” You snort, half-choking on a laugh until you realize he’s serious. “Why?”

“You’re an idiot.” He rolls his eyes and groans. “Why wouldn’t I? Have you seen yourself? Met yourself? You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, but if you even try to repeat that to anyone I will vehemently deny it until the day I die.”

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that?” Your brain whirls at the sight of him, and your entire body yearns to be close to his again.

“It’s the truth. I’ve liked you for a while now, but I’ve never had the courage to say anything.” Chenle chews the inside of his cheek, pondering. The thought of Chenle’s confidence wavering when it comes to you has your heart tumbling in your chest.

“You know what this means?” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Hm?”

“Your mom is going to be so excited.” You bite back a smile, but it breaks through anyway when you see him glare at you, narrowing his eyes.

“Why would you bring my mom up right now? Are you trying to make me go soft?” His words send heat to your cheeks, and it takes everything in you not to tap them to snap yourself out of it.

“You’re still hard after Jaemin came in here like that?” You push his shoulder.

“I was on top of you, dude. There’s only one way I’ll be able to get this thing down, and hopefully, it’ll be with you and not my hand.” He takes a deep breath. “Whatever you decide is good with me.”

Leaving Chenle to his hand is the last thing you’d even think about doing right now. You don’t want to move too quickly, but when he looks away from you briefly, you use that as an opportunity to straddle his lap. He gulps and shifts beneath you, immediately gripping your waist.

“And now you’re on top of me,” he mutters. “I’m gonna have so many dreams about this.”

Before your nerves can overtake you, you dip your head down until you're mere centimeters from him. He wasn’t lying about how hard he is, his bulge pressing beautifully against you. At this point, you curse yourself for wearing denim shorts. You’d be feeling it so much more if you were in something softer.

“You should know,” he says, right hand trailing up to cup your cheek. “We can take this slow if you want. I don’t want to rush you. Everything needs to be done right.”

“Kiss me, dumbass.”

He grins softly, only for a moment before his beautiful mouth is on yours again, working magic you’re sure only he’s capable of. You live for the sounds the two of you make, your lips moving together in harmony as if you’re made for each other.

At this point, you think you just may be.

You sit still on top of him, not quite wanting to elevate things yet, and he doesn’t push you. He lets you take everything at your own pace. Eventually, your tongues meet again, but you don’t fight him this time. You allow him to explore your mouth, sighing at how skilled he is at it. When he pulls away, his teeth gently digging into your bottom lip to tug it, you groan, your hips finally moving on their own accord. His smug look quickly fades as his breath shudders. You grind down on him, his hardness gliding along your clit through way too many sets of fabric.

“Chenle,” you groan. “I need you.”

“Patience, pretty girl,” he hums, moving along to your rhythm. “Need you to keep going, okay? Don’t stop.”

You didn’t intend to. Instead of waiting for his next move, your lips connect with his neck, nipping and licking along the skin you know is sensitive. You feel his soft moan before you hear it, and something inside of you snaps.

“Damn it, Chenle, I need more.”

“Do you?” His gaze darkens when he meets yours, fingers still weaved in your hair.

“I need you.”

He wets his lips, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he nods. “We should go to my room.”

Doing your best to keep grinding down on him, you reach down to the bottom of your T-shirt, making quick work of it so it can join Chenle’s on the couch. He stares at you, attention everywhere.

“I lied,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “I don’t like you. I’m in love with you. Let me take you to my room.”

The confession sends you reeling for half a second, and then you’re sliding off his lap to allow him to get up. You’re already weak at the knees thinking of all the things about to happen between the two of you, but you don’t dare say anything else as he bends to grab Jaemin’s condom from the ground, intertwines your fingers, and practically drags you toward his bedroom.

Right when you step foot through the threshold, he closes the door behind you and pushes you up against it. His lips work harshly on yours, leaving you to whine into him. Without wasting another second, his fingers pop the button on your shorts, and he pushes them down your thighs. They slide to the floor, leaving you in your bra and panties. You almost get self-conscious at the way he’s looking at you, but his hand starts ghosting along your inner thighs.

“I wonder how wet you are.” His voice is dangerously low, sending all sorts of shivers up your spine.

“Why don’t you feel and find out?” you taunt him, rocking your hips toward him.

With one quick movement, he unclasps your bra, leaving your top half bare as his head dips down. He nips at the flesh, and you swear you feel your heart pounding in your throat. Taking your nipple into his mouth, he swirls along it. He tweaks the other, and a moan escapes you before you can even try to hold it back.

“How about I make you cum on my face?” he mumbles, nipping as his mouth trails downward.

Then he’s on his knees in front of you. Never in your wildest dreams had you ever imagined a man like Chenle on his knees for you. His fingers hook in the hem of your panties, and he glances up at you.

“Are you sure this is okay?”

You nod, but it’s not enough for him.

“Say it out loud,” he commands. “I need to hear you say it.”

“It’s more than okay. Please do something.” Your head thuds against the wood of the door.

He smirks, tugging your panties down to the floor. Hoisting your leg up on his shoulder, he leans forward to lick a broad stripe up your core. You’re not sure where to grab, but you can’t find anything to hold onto except for the door handle.

Pausing, he reaches upward, guiding one of your hands to his hair. You take the hint, grasping onto him for support. Your one leg keeping you standing is already shaking, and when his tongue prods at your slit, you shudder.

His nose nudges your clit, and you push him further between your legs.

He pulls away, mouth shining with your arousal. “My pretty girl has such a pretty pussy. I could fucking eat you forever.” And just like that, he returns to his ministrations, wrapping his lips around your sensitive bud and flicking it with his tongue.

You cry out his name like a mantra, grinding into his face while he doesn’t dare let up for even a moment. Knots form in your stomach—the kind that have your hips bucking wildly—and suddenly, the repeated ‘Chenle’s escaping your mouth start to taste so, so sweet.

And then you crumble, hardly able to stay afloat. He slows down, helping you ride out your high before placing one last kiss on your clit and standing up.

His lips meet yours, and the taste of you doesn’t do a thing to bother you when you’re so dazed from your orgasm. He moves down to the sensitive spot by your ear, and you gasp, tightening your grip on him.

“Chenle.” You pull him up to look at you. “I love you, too.”

His breathing shutters as he spins you around, mouths connected harshly, and walks you back toward his bed. The glow of the sun has faded, the night sky surrounding the two of you in delicate, gentle silver light as he lowers you onto his mattress.

He pauses, eyes trailing over your body slowly, as if in appreciation. Neither of you moves until his hands move down to his sweatpants. You’re barely able to see him as he grabs the condom from his pocket and before pushing them and his underwear to the floor. He steps closer to you, gripping your thighs and tugging you to the edge.

“Are you sure?” he whispers. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You sit up and take the condom from him. Once you rip the wrapper open, he gulps, watching as you reach down. A small sound escapes him when you wrap your fingers around his cock and stroke it a few times.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m sure.”

You roll it on him. He barely gives you enough time to finish with it before he crushes his mouth to yours with every ounce of feeling he has.

Scooting back on his bed, he climbs on to join you, stopping only when he hovers over you. His face is so close to yours, you almost moan at how swollen his lips are. He lines himself up with your entrance, making sure to brush against your clit a couple times.

And then he’s pushing inside you, stretching you slowly while he waits for your reaction. Your eyes roll and you lift your hips to get him deeper. He pauses, nuzzling against your shoulder, shuddering breaths fanning across your skin.

You close your eyes, letting your head fall back against the mattress as you adjust to the way he fits. He starts slow, pulling out only a bit to push back in. You weave your fingers through his hair, stroking his scalp in encouragement as he picks up his pace. His hips roll against yours, each thrust pulling sounds from you.

“God,” he mumbles, running his tongue along your collarbone.

“Kiss me,” you say, tugging at him. “Please.”

His lips are on your seconds later, surprisingly gentle. Your heart thuds in your chest. He swallows every moan, reaching up to intertwine intertwine your fingers together. With your hand pinned next to your head, you get lost in his rhythm. Everything around you is unbearably hot, skin sticking to skin while sounds of your wetness fills the room with each of his movements. Your brain whirls and you swear you’re going crazy the longer he’s inside you.

The pleasure is so intense, you doubt you’ve ever felt this way before. Your body shakes from his movements, and you do your best to match him. You feel knots forming in your stomach, but you don’t want it to be over yet, you want to be in this bed with him forever while he makes love to you.

He shifts closer, and you cry out when he slides right into your spot. His mouth rests against yours, gazes locked as he repeats the action over and over.

Releasing your hand, he reaches between the two of you, fingers connecting with your clit. You’re unashamed of your loud moan, especially as your orgasm hits like a tidal wave. Arching into him, you grip his shoulders.

He curses, face contorting in ecstasy as you clench around him like a vice. With a low groan, he snaps his hips into yours, sucking in a breath as he reaches his climax. He pants, setting his forehead on yours with his eyes closed.

“Good fucking God,” he mutters. “You’re amazing.”

Your mind is so shattered and overwhelmed, you can’t do anything but giggle. He’s shocked for a moment, but he joins you, kissing you once more before gently pulling out of you. You slump into his mattress, staring up at the ceiling fan.

“I’ll be right back,” Chenle tells you, rolling off of the bed to dispose of the condom.

Sweat sticks uncomfortably to your skin, but not even that can wipe the smile off your face. When he returns, he finds his place next to you, and regardless of the heat, he pulls you to his chest.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod slowly, eyes fluttering shut. “Mm.”

“Holy shit, I fucked you dumb.” He laughs, squeezing you.

You give him the best glare you’re able to muster, but it must not be that great, because his smile doesn’t fade.

“So.” Brushing your hair behind your ear, he raises an eyebrow at you. “I think we should go out on a date. Or something.”

“Right now?” You stare at him, dumbfounded.

“No, not right now.” He shakes his head. “Soon, though. Like tomorrow.”

You grin, nodding. “I want that.”

“Good. Me too.” Chenle cradles you closer to him.

Grabbing the small blanket folded at the foot of his bed, he brings it up to cover both of you and hums when you throw your arm around him.

“I love you,” he says, voice so soft it’s almost lost in the night.

“I love you, too,” you reply with ease.

With his steady heartbeat as your lullaby, you have no problem falling asleep in his grasp.

[justagalwhowrites]

New in Town - Ch. 4: First Cookout

Sarah invites you to Joel's place to celebrate the last night she's in town. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-3 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Smut. Because obviously smut. It's these two, they fuck. No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 5.8k

AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“And this is going to be your desk,” you smiled, excited but keeping your voice down. Sarah made a quiet squeal back at you. “See, I can see you from my desk so you can make faces at me while I’m dealing with the boring accounts people. I’m manifesting it, I swear I am.” 

“I’m seriously about to make a fucking moodboard if it’ll help,” she sat on the desk, her legs dangling over the edge. “I miss Austin. I didn’t think I’d miss it this much but I really do. Seattle was way more fun when you were there, now all I do is try to convince myself that my job is totally worth the 500 days of rain we get every year.”

You laughed.

“Something tells me it’s not quite that many.” 

“Feels like that many,” she rolled her eyes. “Now please. I need BBQ.” 

You shook your head and laughed before heading to the elevators to go to lunch with your best friend. 

Joel had texted you a warning with his usual good morning text that day. 

“Good morning, Beautiful,” he wrote. “Really miss feeling you right before I fall asleep. Please tell me you’re not busy tomorrow night. Heads up, expect Sarah to drop in on you today. I have to be at a site for a few hours and she mentioned stopping by your office. She’ll probably invite you to the cookout we’re having tonight - up to you if you want to come.” 

You frowned when you read it. “Up to you if you want to come.” What the fuck did that mean? 

“Miss feeling you too,” you added a heart emoji. “Only plans I have for tomorrow night involve you ripping my clothes off.” 

You rapped your nails against your phone, waiting to see if he’d text back before you started getting ready for the day but he didn’t. You sighed. He probably had to be on site early and couldn’t use his phone. 

“Goddammit,” you muttered, putting your face in your pillow and groaning. How were you supposed to navigate this? 

Did Joel want you to come but was trying to keep the pressure off? Did he not want you anywhere near him when Sarah was in town? 

Yes, he’d spent a fair bit of time fucking your brains out over the past few weeks but, in reality, he wasn’t anything to you. He was a guy you’d gone out with once, he wasn’t your boyfriend, he didn’t have to invite you over for anything let alone something that might make him feel uncomfortable because you were friends with his kid. Even though, to you, he felt like so much more than some guy you were fucking. So, so much more. 

And also your best friend’s dad. 

Because fate was a cruel, cruel thing. 

You checked your phone every few minutes as you got ready for work but the messages sat on delivered. You sighed and resisted the urge to text again and just kept checking your phone every few minutes in your office, too. 

“Wouldn’t argue with some help in the clothing removal department,” he wrote. “I’m going to want you naked fast. Requesting something with easy access so I can get inside you ASAP.” 

You smiled and shook your head a little. 

“Still warm enough for a sundress,” you sent a winky face emoji with that and briefly considered going to the bathroom to take a selfie that involved an unprofessional amount of cleavage. 

“Jesus Christ,” he sent back. “Pull me in a restroom wearing one of those and we’re not stopping at you humping my leg.” 

“Counting on it,” you wrote, smiling a little wider before deciding to just bite the bullet. “Did you want me to go tonight? If Sarah asks?” 

“What’s go you smiling so big?” 

You almost jumped out of your skin when you saw Sarah leaning against the doorframe to your office. 

“Good lord, girl, we gotta put a bell on you,” you smiled anyway, being sure to lock your phone before getting up to hug her. “What are you doing here?” 

“My dad had some client issue so I figure I’d come visit my bestie,” she gave you a squeeze before stepping back from you. “Plus I’m dying to see where I’m going to commute to every day once they finally let me come here.” 

Sarah picked the restaurant, a BBQ place that wasn’t far from your office and only offered wooden picnic tables sitting under a rusted metal awning for seating. 

“Oh this is going to be good shit,” you said, taking a deep breath, the smell of smoked meat heavy on the air. “I can tell.” 

“Knew you’d love this place,” she smiled. “Kind of surprised my dad hasn’t taken you here already, actually.” 

You froze for half a second before regaining your composure. 

“We’ve only gone out the one time since the first time we met up,” you shrugged. “Can’t exactly show me the entire city in that time.” 

The two of you got in line, the place starting to get crowded now that it was pushing noon. 

“I know,” she rolled her eyes. “I just really thought you guys would hit it off I guess.” 

Well you’d definitely done that. 

“Does it really bother you that I’m not hitting the town with your dad more?” You asked, teasing. 

“Kind of, actually,” she laughed. “You know those stupid TV episodes they do where the cast of one show goes on another show?” 

“The crossover ones?” You frowned.” 

“Right,” she nodded. The line moved and the two of you stepped forward. “This was like… my real life crossover episode and it just kinda flopped. Like my two favorite characters finally were in the same place and just didn’t have the chemistry for good TV.” 

Yeah, chemistry? Not your issue with Joel. 

“I’ll be sure to lodge your complaint with the writers,” you said dryly. “Tell them to get their shit together.” 

You talked Sarah into ordering the meats you didn’t so you could try at least a bite of everything and you were almost uncomfortably full when you dropped your final wet napkin on the butcher paper covered tray in front of you. 

“Oh, hey, meant to ask you before,” she said, polishing off her Dr. Pepper. “Did you have any plans tonight? My dad caved and is grilling out. My Uncle Tommy is coming over, his wife Maria, a few neighbors who have known me since I was in diapers and who can tell you every embarrassing thing I’ve ever done…” 

“I don’t think they can tell me about the time you got drunk at karaoke night and tried to take the mic from that guy who was making an ass of himself,” you smirked. 

Sarah groaned, throwing her head back and laughing.

“Oh my God, I forgot about that!”

You laughed, too, and took a second to check your phone to see if Joel had gotten back to you. 

He had. 

“Love for you to come,” he wrote. “Just going to be hell keeping my hands to myself all night. But would rather do that than not see you.” 

You smiled a little and put your phone down. 

“Yeah, I’ll come,” you said. “Just tell me what I can bring.” 

You were almost giddy by the time you got home. It’s not like you’d seen Joel every day since you’d met him but the option always felt like it was there. You’d only texted a bit since the phone sex Sunday and it felt like it had been eons since you’d gotten to touch him. You wondered if it would be weird if you gave him a hug when Sarah was there. You could get away with a hug, right? 

You pulled out a few outfit options, trying to find something that would make Joel want to check you out but not look like you were trying to get him to check you out. You pulled the shirts out and hung them on your floor length mirror so they were next to each other when you got an idea. 

You stripped out of your work clothes and changed into your favorite matching bra and panty set, standing in front of the mirror with the shirts still hanging on it, arranging yourself so you could see your body between the clothes. You took a picture. 

“Which shirt for tonight?” You typed, sending the picture to Joel. 

He responded while you were jumping into your jeans, the denim tight on your thighs and hips. 

“You’re cruel, you know that right?” He wrote. “I vote green. Feel like you’ll cause less trouble in the green.” 

The green was a little tamer, you supposed. The v-neck wasn’t quite as low, the eyelet lace softer and almost girlish. You smiled a little. 

“You’re right,” you wrote back. “Black it is.” 

Black was a wrap top, with a deeper v-neck, something that would highlight your curves even more. And give Joel easy access.

“You’re a menace,” he texted. 

“I know :)” 

You got dressed and stopped by HEB on your way over, picking up a dozen bottles of Shiner. You’d had to consciously toe the line of trying without trying too hard and you stomach was in knots as you walked up to his front door. What if your hair or your makeup or your shoes or the tightness of your jeans screamed “I’m fucking the man who lives in this house”? 

But you took a deep breath and rang the doorbell anyway. It didn’t take long for it Sarah to rip it open with a squeal, pulling you inside. 

“I’m so glad you came!” She said, jumping a little as she pulled away from you. “This is going to be so much fun, I promise. See, we’re going to do shit like this all the time when I move down here. We gotta manifest it, girl, I’m telling you. It’s even more fun when it’s summer and people want to swim because getting drunk in a pool that’s not open to every other idiot in your apartment complex is seriously the best pass time.” 

“I can only imagine,” you smiled. “And, I brought beer!” 

You held up the six packs just as Joel went rushing past, on his way to the kitchen. But he doubled back and stopped, a slow smile spreading across his face as he looked you up and down from over Sarah’s shoulder. You smirked just a little and he shook his head slightly, smiling. 

“Good to see you,” he said, stepping around Sarah for a somewhat awkward hug. He lowered his voice, his lips next to your ear, speaking so softly you could barely hear him. “Menace.” 

He stepped back and you smiled wider. 

“Good to see you, too.” 

Joel took the beers from your hands and his eyes lingered a little too long on your chest - not that you were arguing. 

“Come on,” Sarah slipped her hand into yours. “I want you to meet everybody!” 

She tugged you along behind her to the backyard, you giving Joel an apologetic smirk over your shoulder, people standing in little clusters around the pool. You spotted Joel’s brother immediately, the resemblance hard to miss. He was standing next to a beautiful woman with braids half way down her back, his arm around her waist. You smiled a little. You remembered dropping Sarah off at the airport when she flew down the year before for her uncle’s wedding. 

“Have fun!” You said, putting her duffle bag on her shoulder as your car sat with the emergency flashers on in the loading zone. 

“Yeah, this is going to be a disaster,” she said. “There’s no way they’re making it down the aisle. I haven’t met Maria but it’s Tommy. He’s jumped from woman to woman since before I was born, the day he settles down is the day hell freezes over.” 

When you picked her up again three days later, she had a different story. 

“So did they actually get hitched?” You asked as she flopped heavily into the passenger seat. 

“Holy shit, they did. She is the only woman on the planet who could actually get him to settle down,” she said. “And by some miracle, she wanted to. No accounting for taste with some people…” 

You laughed and headed to your favorite bar to hear all about it. You hadn’t really expected to ever really meet him except maybe in passing at Sarah’s wedding one day. Now you were meeting him in your - boyfriend’s? Fuck buddy’s? Who knows what’s? - backyard. 

“Tommy, Maria!” Sarah called as the two of you worked your way around the pool. “Got someone for you to meet, she’s new in town and in desperate need of social contacts.” 

She made the introductions and Tommy laughed when he heard your name. 

“The infamous best friend,” he smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “She as bad an influence on you as she was on me?” 

“Oh shut up,” she rolled her eyes. 

“She talked me into grand larceny once,” Tommy said, pointing accusingly at Sarah with the beer bottle in his hand. 

“Did she now?” You asked, brows raised. 

“Oh yes,” he nodded, smiling cheekily. “She was seven and Joel said she couldn’t have all her Halloween candy on Halloween…” 

“A crime, really,” she smiled, grabbing Tommy’s beer and taking a drink before giving it back. 

“And she was so cute, these big eyes and her little princess costume and her hair going in about a million different directions…” 

“Yeah, Dad hadn’t figured out how to handle that yet,” she laughed a little. 

“I caved,” Tommy said. “I put up a valiant fight…” 

“You said yes immediately!” Sarah scoffed. “I barely even had to pout…” 

“She was a monster,” Tommy cut her off. “I was at her mercy, I swear!” 

“And then what happened?” Joel asked, joining your little circle with two beers in hand. He wordlessly pressed one into your palm. You smiled a little at him and he brushed his hand down your spine on his way to putting it in his back pocket. “C’mon, you two partners in crime, finish that story. What happened?” 

“Nothing that bad,” Tommy waved him off. 

“Yeah, it was fine,” Sarah said. “No lasting damage…” 

“For you two maybe,” Joel laughed. “I was the one who was up until 3 in the morning washing all her bedding and scrubbin’ the wall of her room because she projectile vomited three pounds of candy like she was starring in the damn Exorcist.” 

You laughed as Sarah and Tommy both tried to downplay it and Maria just lovingly patted her husband’s shoulder, rolling her eyes. While everyone was distracted, you snuck a look at Joel. Just a second to actually look at his face as he laughed and smiled with his family. It was a little unfair, how good looking he was. Somehow both rugged and soft, handsome and beautiful and you had to resist the urge to reach up and twist your fingers in his slightly unruly curls. You looked back at Sarah before anyone said anything and took a sip of beer. 

Sarah got sidetracked talking with Tommy and you took advantage of it, leaning in to whisper in Joel’s ear. 

“You’re really hot,” you said quietly. “Also, I got you a present, it’s in my purse.” 

“Oh really?” He raised his eyebrows, a devious look on his face. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Not that exciting,” you said. 

“What are you two conspiring about?” Maria asked and you almost flinched as Tommy and Sarah turned their attention to you. 

“Just how to get this one to stop meddlin’,” Joel said smoothly, nodding to his daughter. 

“I do not meddle,” she replied. “I just nudge people in the right direction. Because I’m smarter than them.” 

You got along well with Joel’s brother and sister-in-law. Tommy seemed more like a big brother to Sarah than an uncle, which made sense when they talked about her childhood years. Tommy was six years younger than Joel, just 16 when Sarah came into the world. So while he adored his niece, he wasn’t exactly mature enough to be a parent-like figure. It sounded like he’d helped his brother out a lot but had been more of a friend to Sarah than anything else. 

You liked watching her and Joel with their friends and family, the easy familiarity of it all, the comfort of having history with people. It was something that was missing from your life. 

Sure, you liked your life. You liked it quite a bit, actually. You had a job you enjoyed that paid you good money, you’d lived in some interesting places - Seattle, three years in New York City, an internship in Chicago, even Washington D.C. for a bit - and you could do just about whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. That was the beauty of not having anything to tie you down. The cost just meant not having roots and, sometimes, that hurt. 

Joel disappeared inside at one point and, after taking quick stock of the backyard to make sure no one else was inside with him, you followed. You slipped into the entry and grabbed your purse, pulling out the bag of Fire Sour Patch Kids you’d seen in the candy aisle on your way to grab beer when you stopped at the store earlier that day. 

Joel was in the kitchen cutting vegetables for burger toppings and you climbed on the counter next to the cutting board. He looked up at you out of the corner of his eye, trying to hide his smile while he shook his head. 

“Meant what I said about you bein’ a menace,” he said, his eyes on the knife. “You’re torture. Beautiful torture but torture.” 

“We aim to please,” you smiled, holding out the candy. He frowned for a second, drying his hands on his jeans, before he laughed and took the bag. “Warned you it wasn’t exciting…” 

“This is great, Beautiful,” he leaned in and kissed you lightly, like it was an automatic thing, as though you did this in his kitchen all the time. “Been wantin’ to try these and then I never buy the damn things….” 

“I’ll help you eat them if they suck,” you smiled. “And you can help me eat them if they don’t.” 

He smiled again and moved in front of you, nudging your legs apart so he was standing between your thighs  and he leaned in and kissed you - really kissed you. His tongue dipped into your mouth, his hands sliding up your legs to your waist as he tugged you closer. You draped your arms over his shoulders and pressed yourself against him and savored his touch. Fuck, you’d missed this. It had only been a few days but it felt like an eternity of him being out of reach and it was almost reassuring to feel the way his hands fit against your body even after some time apart. 

“Fuck, you’re trouble,” he was breathless when he pulled away from you, his hands still on your body. “Just couldn’t wear the green, could ya?” 

“And miss out on this?” You teased, running your fingers through his hair. “Never.” 

Sarah sat between the two of you at dinner, the best spot for you and Joel to be in when you thought about it. Next to you was too much temptation, you’d end up touching each other and then not be able to help yourselves and that was bad. 

Across wasn’t great, either, as you’d discovered at dinner the other night. If you could just check each other out the whole night, that wasn’t the safe way to go. Not to mention the opportunities for playing footsie under the table. 

No no, you needed a better way to keep your hands to yourselves and Sarah was a great barrier for that - both literally and metaphorically - and you managed to get through the meal without any big slip ups. Something you were pretty damn proud of, if you did say so yourself. 

You excused yourself to the bathroom as things were in that easy after dinner conversation stage of the evening, everyone pleasantly full and a little drunk, Sarah laughing with a neighbor from down the street whose name you’d forgotten. But when you opened the bathroom door to head back outside, Joel was there, pushing you back into the room and closing the door behind him. 

“Joel!” You hissed, his hands on your waist. 

“You really can’t expect me to wait when you show up lookin’ this damn good,” he growled, boosting you up so you were perched on the edge of the sink. “Everyone’s too busy to even notice we’re gone…” 

His mouth found your neck and your chest as he untied your top, his tongue and teeth ranging over your skin and you couldn’t help but moan at his attention, your body already feeling warm and wanting. Joel stepped back from you a he fully opened your shirt, revealing your body to him as though it were some wondrous thing, moaning as he did. 

“Fuck Beautiful,” his hands trailed up your exposed skin to cup your breasts through your bra. “Ain’t fair how one person can look this damn good…” 

“Had to pull you away from the grill somehow,” you smiled, tugging him back against you and kissing him. He kissed you back, getting more and more desperate as he did. He pulled your breasts free of their cups so he could suck at them and hold them in his large hands, moaning into you. Your hands ran down his body to find his cock hard in his jeans, feeling him through the fabric, desperately wishing you could just rip all his clothes off and get him inside you. 

“Think you can come from just your clit?” He asked, breathless, as he licked and sucked your neck. 

“Yes,” you moaned. “Think you can come from just my hand?” 

“It’d take less than that,” he panted as he opened your jeans and slid his hand inside as best he could, his finger finding your clit quickly. He ghosted over it with his finger, making you squirm and moan. “Fuck, Beautiful, you close already?” 

“Maybe,” you panted as he pressed a little harder against the sensitive nub. You reached down to pull out his cock to start jerking him off but he caught your hand. You whined a little. 

“Not yet,” he kissed back up to your mouth, holding his lips a fraction of an inch away from yours. “Lemme take care of you…” 

He kissed you then, his tongue slipping into you as his finger pressed into your clit. You groaned and rocked your hips on him and you felt him smile against your lips. He started rubbing you in slow, aching circles, adding a little pressure every time around, matching his kiss to the pace of his fingers. You moaned desperately against him and he picked up his pace, working you over until you were gasping into his mouth while you came from his fingers. 

“Fuck,” you panted as Joel slipped his hand from your pants. “How are you so goddamn good at that?” 

“You’re so pretty when you come it’s easy to remember what does it,” he replied, stepping back from you. You slid off the sink but, instead of fixing your bra and closing your shirt, you dropped to your knees and started unzipping his fly. “Baby…” 

“I can be quick,” you said, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you freed his cock. You never really got used to hot big he was - thick, heavy, long. But you’d be fine choking on him if it meant making him come. 

You started by licking his head and he let out a shuddering little moan and you smiled a little, lapping at the dripping pre-come at his slit like he was your favorite flavor of ice cream. Which, he kind of was. Heady and masculine and Joel, knowing that he was dripping because of you made you want him even more. 

Instead of taking the more gradual route, you took him into your mouth and throat all at once, having to swallow around the head of him as he pushed past your gag reflex. His hand flew to your head, fingers twisting in your hair and sinking into the thin layer of flesh over your skull. 

“Oh fuck,” he panted. “Oh my fucking god…..” 

You sucked him and moaned, the vibration of your vocal chords working the tip of him as it was lodged in your throat. You pressed your tongue against the thick vein that ran along the underside of him before you started pulling back, his grip on your head relaxing just enough to let you do it. You worked is cock up and down, sucking and licking and taking him into your mouth until you started to cough. He panted and moaned as you worked him until, eventually, he was clinging to the sink to stay upright. 

“Fuck, please Baby, I need to come,” he groaned. You smiled as much as you could when your mouth was full of his thick cock. “Lemme… can I…” 

You looked up at him, eyes wide, as you slid down him so he was buried in your mouth to the root and you hummed your approval. His hands immediately flew to your head and he started fucking into your mouth. You took it, swallowing past your gag reflex with each deep stroke. He didn’t last long, just a few pumps, before he was spilling into you, moaning quietly as he did. You swallowed it all, his cock so deep in your throat you could barely even taste him as he pumped his come into you. 

“Fuck,” he all but collapsed against the sink and you carefully slid his cock from your mouth and got up, wiping your mouth on the back of your wrist. You adjusted your bra and tied your shirt again. 

“Worth it?” You teased. 

“Jesus Christ woman,” he groaned. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

You smiled and kissed his cheek before you went to leave the bathroom but he grabbed your arm, pulling you back against him to kiss you deep and long. You tried to hide your surprise. Other guys you’d been with weren’t huge on kissing you after you went down on them. Joel didn’t seem to mind. But then, Joel just wasn’t like other men. You smiled as you pulled back from him and he laughed a little. 

“What?” You frowned. 

“We made a mess of your makeup,” he jerked his head toward the mirror, tucking his cock back in his pants as you checked your reflection. Your lipstick had smeared and you laughed a little, too. 

“Good thing I have more in my bag,” you said, grabbing a sheet of toilet paper and cleaning up what you could. “See you back out there?” 

“Once I remember how to walk again,” he teased. 

It was sheer luck that Maria came in to use the bathroom as you adjusted your lipstick in the entryway mirror and not a few minutes earlier and you popped a breath mint so you could think about something besides the fact that the last thing in your mouth had been Joel’s cock when you talked with Sarah. 

You left only about an hour later, giving Sarah a long hug as she walked you to your car. 

“I’ll be back again soon for Thanksgiving,” she smiled, squeezing you tight. “Just manifest with me!” 

“I’m manifesting so hard I might break something,” you smiled back, trying to ignore the knot of guilt in your stomach about hiding something so big from her. 

“And seriously,” she said, stepping back from you. “If you need a friend before I get down here…” 

“Call the whole Miller clan,” you smiled. “I got it.” 

“Good,” she said. “We’ll just make a Miller out of you yet.” 

You tried to ignore how your heart skipped a beat at the thought of that. 

“Sounds good to me.” 

Joel came straight to your place after dropping Sarah off at the airport the next night. You answered the door in a sundress - as promised - expecting to go to dinner. 

Which, in hindsight, was foolish. 

“Fuck,” you said, looking Joel up and down. He had flowers. He was in a plain, dark t-shirt that was tight around his biceps, his jeans hanging just right on his hips. 

“What?” He frowned. 

“Just get in here and let me fuck you,” you said, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into your apartment. 

The flowers were quickly abandoned on the breakfast bar in your kitchen as you kissed him, tugging his shirt off and casting it aside before you dragged him to the bedroom. 

“We gotta eat at some point tonight, Baby,” he said between kisses as you shoved him down on the bed. 

“That’s fine,” you panted, stepping out of your panties and casting them aside. “We can do this twice.” 

“Fuck, you’re fucking perfect,” he said, lifting his hips so he could slide his pants down a little and sitting so his back was against your headboard. He started working his cock, already hard in the palm of his hand. You straddled him, the skirt of your dress hiding your dripping pussy and his leaking cock from view. He kept one hand on his cock but the other went to your hips as you lowered yourself toward him until your pussy brushed his thick head. “Oh shit, fuck Beautiful, I need… Fuck, need inside you, I need to be inside you…” 

“I know,” you breathed before sinking onto his cock with a shaking moan. His other hand flew to your waist, too, pulling you down on him so his whole length was sheathed within you. You panted for breath as your body adjusted to the intrusion. “I need you, too.” 

“Fuck,” his head fell back against the headboard. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good every time, s’like I belong in this pussy, like your pussy was made to take this cock.” 

“Made to ride this cock,” you moaned, starting to rise and fall over him with a satisfied groan. Joel somehow hit all the right angles inside you, the thickness of his shaft stretching you deliciously, his head finding the sensitive place deep inside you and pressing against it, making your pussy start to tighten around him. 

“Oh shit,” his grip on you got firmer, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of you. “Want you to come on this cock, Beautiful. Want you to use me to get yourself off, fuck, Baby, make yourself come on my cock…” 

You buried your face in his neck and breathed in his deep, clean, masculine scent and started riding him harder, adjusting your hips so your clit was leaving an obscene, messy streak of your slick up and down his bare stomach. You licked and sucked at his neck as you rode him, fucking down on him hard and fast and grinding your clit against him. As your body tightened, you sat up straighter, pressing your forehead to his own so you could see his face, the liquid heat in you centering around where he was inside you until you came with a desperate moan around him. 

“There we go,” he almost sounded like he was in pain he was so desperate. “Fuck, you come so fuckin’ pretty Baby, so goddamn pretty. Feel so good, coming on my cock, better than anything else, fuck Beautiful, I can’t…” 

Joel took control of your hips then, pumping you up and down his shaft and you tried to help as best you could as you rode out your orgasm. His hips fucked up into you hard and fast until he was emptying himself into you, moaning as he did. 

You collapsed on top of him, panting for breath and he went from holding your hips to wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to him. You stayed like that for a few minutes, your breaths synchronizing as you both came back down from our highs. 

“So,” you said, breathing not quite back to normal yet. “Dinner?” 

He laughed. 

“Dinner.” 

When you fell asleep in Joel’s arms that night, all naked and entwined with him, you were starting to think that you could get used to this. That you wanted to do this all the time, every day. Do all of life’s stupid little things with him, go grocery shopping with him and pay the water bill with him and deal with traffic jams with him. 

You just weren’t sure how to talk about that yet. 

But that was OK. You were getting there, you could tell. 

When Joel kissed you goodbye in the morning, he brushed your hair back from your forehead so he could kiss you there too. 

“Leaving already?” You mumbled.��

“‘Fraid so,” he said softly. “Need to get an early start at the job site. Can I see you tonight?” 

You just hummed in response. He frowned. 

“That’s a yes, I hope,” he said. You nodded and you opened your eyes just enough to see him smile broadly. “I’ll text you. Have a good day, Baby.” 

“You too,” you mumbled into your pillow. 

When you got up an hour later, there was a sticky note on your coffee maker, telling you to check your fridge. Inside was an iced latte from the coffee shop down the street and you smiled so big it was hard to do your makeup as you got ready to go. 

You were still on cloud nine when you were getting ready to take a client to lunch that afternoon, doing a last check of your makeup when you got a call from the reception desk downstairs. 

“Someone’s here for you,” the receptionist sounded skeptical. “I’m not letting him back without you.” 

“No problem,” you laughed. “We’re going off site for lunch, tell him I’ll be down in a minute.” 

You went to the lobby, looking for someone who at least vaguely resembled the headshot from your client’s website when you did a double take. 

The man sitting on the couch in reception smiled when he saw you and your heart sank into your stomach as he headed for you. 

“Hey Angel,” he smiled. 

You couldn’t smile back. 

“Shit.”  

Next Chapter

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 18}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader) ; brief Force Sensitive! Reader and M!OC

Summary: There are restrictions for entering the main city, some of them Din could agree to and one he absolutely could not. His helmet would need to be left behind, but isn't removing it what caused this entire situation to begin with? Meanwhile, you wake to a new environment, cautious of the things around you and the words of your mother.

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, we meet readers betrothed and he needs his own warning, reader's mother also gets her own warning, kidnapping, reader is being kept against her will, hostage situation, use of narcotics, use of drugs, sedatives, self-depreciating thoughts, thoughts of self-harm, ptsd symptoms, medical trauma, past medical trauma, feelings of inadequacy, sexual themes, sexual content (not detailed), there are a few more but they will spoil the chapter!

A/N: more din pov! because it's so much fun and there are some things y'all need to see through his eyes before some explanations are given c;

all of you were right to think din is gonna need a disguise! but i don't want anyone to think that the desert environment and the choice of clothing is ignorant on my part in light of what is going on in palestine. i've had this original arc planned before the first chapter was even published. here are some resources for aiding those that need help. i've also provided a link to the moodboard for this particular arc, which does include a visual for din's new attire

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Maker, your mother was really doing her best to keep you to herself. It was smart to warn the protection around you of him, to anticipate that he would make an attempt to take you back. But he loathed how much harder it was going to make even just getting into the city.

The weapons he could forgo, but his armor? She knew from her past experience with Akiz that it was a punishable offense for a Mandalorian to remove their helmet. And it was frustrating that she was using his religion, his Creed, his culture, his way of life to keep him at bay and to keep you under her control.

It was an injustice he couldn’t wrap his head around. It was just so conniving, and it was hard to believe how you had turned out so drastically different when being surrounded by someone capable of such extremes. He only hoped that your mother hadn’t done anything drastic to you, caused you to take matters into your own hands. He only hoped that you knew he had spent the last several weeks tearing through the galaxy in search for signs of what had happened to you. That he had rushed toward the planet you were taken to the second he had found it out.

Din needed you to know that he was trying, that he was searching for you, that he missed your presence by his side and aboard his ship. And not simply for the fact that you were a strong, capable fighter. But because the things he had whispered and promised you before he ruined it all were true. He did care for you. He had begun to care for you alarmingly fast after that first encounter.

And maybe it should’ve scared him, been a warning he heeded, the way his heart had lightened and opened up to you. Even despite the circumstances and the breaking of his contract with the Guild. He had been willing to change the circumstances, to do away with the contract he took on when his fingers closed around your offered tracking fob. Because it had felt right to do so, despite the inherent break of what he stood for in that moment. His willingness to do so, it only made him realize that this was real, because he had never felt like this with anyone before. Had never wanted to provide for anyone aside from those that made up his covert before. He had meant it when he had choked out those words back on Nevarro.

“I can’t wear that.” Din had been cautious as he looked out the cockpit viewpoint and down into the hangar space. The looming racetrack just beyond it, offset from the main city. Crowds and clusters of people swathed in billowing layers and a severe lack of weaponry was a worrisome observation. Upon her return from the markets, offset from the other side of the city, Cara had held out a bundle of clothing to him.

“I did enough recon to know the guards are the only people permitted into the palace without verification. That Sarad’s always surrounded by at least two of them when outside of the palace, though her mother never joins her outside the walls.”

“Because she knows I’d kill her on sight.” Din can’t help the growl of his words, knowing the truth behind them was all too real. Because he would, without hesitation, take out the threat that had presented itself after lying in wait. Striking at the most opportune moment even months after having first contracted your return to her when it seemed like it was fruitless.

“This the only way you’ll get close enough to her, by blending in.” Cara shimmied the bundle at him, wanting him to take it from her despite his trepidation.

“My face will be exposed.” He argued as he stepped away from her. His mind and thoughts at war with the notion of having to remove his armor and the one of doing it in order to save you. He picked up a grumbling ad’ika from where he had been settled in his pod. Taking a pack of dried jerky from the pouch attached to his belt and handed it to him. Happy coos filled the hull of the ship, Din helping to reach into the pouch for each piece the child devoured.

“They wear head coverings and cover their faces. More than a third of the people I saw. Both men and women. I know it’s not ideal, Din,” Cara risked using the man’s real name. Wanting him to hear her and believe that this was the best way, the only way to move about with having to worry about being stopped or appearing suspicious. Hoping to convince him it was the best scenario to avoid showing his whole face should he have to forgo his helmet. She didn’t seem too keen on having to don similar clothing that left little room to conceal a weapon. “Some have mesh over their eyes.”

Din reached out, taking the outfit from her. He would try it on, get a sense of how he felt in the clothing before making his decision. He had half a mind to fly the ship directly into the palace grounds and open fire until you were safely back in his arms. But realistically he knew that was a terrible plan. The man who you had been promised to was entrenched in the New Republic, someone of high standing and to attack him would bring on a whole new level of concerns into his life, into your life.

Setting ad’ika back down into the pod, Din tucked your cloak around him before making his way to the room.

What use was all his armor and weapons if he couldn’t keep you safe? The thought was sharp in his mind as he set about removing each plate, the clasps snapping in the silence of the ship. He stored them in a crate he had brought from his own ship. In it was the pair of pauldrons you had left behind. The armor settled together tugged at his heart, making his chest tights as he wished for you nestled beside him in his bed much like the beskar in the crate. Closing it and setting a lock on it, he already missed the feel of his vambraces, of the weapons hidden over his frame.

Despite being alone, he kept the cowl about his neck in place. The necklace of his people hidden beneath it and he wondered where the one he had gifted you ended up. The ship foreign to him, giving him pause in removing it as he looked over the robes Cara had collected for him. They were all black. Made of a light, flowing material that would cover his entire body. And he began to pull the wide legged pants over his legs.

The top was less a shirt and more of a tunic, cut shorter in the front to fall just below his waist. It offered coverage of his crotch, while the length billowed out down to his knees on either side. He wondered if he should chance donning the chainmail he had retrieved from your home on Tatooine underneath it. He felt exposed, too vulnerable even as he set about fastening the brown leather harness to cross over his chest from his shoulders and the belt that had an empty pouch fastened to it on his left.

Two arm braces made of bronze had been folded up in the clothing, and he slid those over his forearms, grateful for at least something similar.

Thankfully Cara had been able to find something that would allow him to cover his face- mostly. His eyes would be exposed, and he wouldn’t be entirely comfortable forgoing a visor or something similar to hide them behind.

But he set about containing his trimmed curls underneath the cover, wrapping it around twice before securing it with a black leather tie around his forehead, letting the rest of the fabric fall over the back of his neck and shoulders. The smaller black kerchief was secured over the cowl, adding another layer to hide his identity from the world, fastened behind his head and tucked into the leather keeping the head cover in place.

It would be harder for him to track you, to pick up on threats without the settings of the helmet, but he knew that it would immediately warrant attention. He had to leave it behind, depart from the ship without it. It was the only way he would be able to do his own reconnaissance.

Sighing, he turned to face the mirror set into the wall beside the door.

He didn’t recognize the man staring back at him. He was swathed in flowing black from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. His boots no longer weighed down with a hidden blade or the ring of bullet casings for his pulse rifle.

Sharp brown eyes set under thick, dark brows the only visible part.

Still far too much to be seen. To be witnessed so easily by those around him. By you.

Worry spiked in him, you wouldn’t know it was him. At least, not at first glance. He hoped you would feel a pull to him similar to the one he felt when around you. A comfort in the closeness of your body and presence. A familiarity and sense of connection, the things you had found in each other allowing you to recognize that it was him beneath the different clothing, what was always beneath the armor and helmet.

Self-consciousness, he realized, was the feeling making his stomach flutter and his nerves jittery. He hadn’t been outside of the ship and around people without his armor since he had been inducted into the training corps. He hadn’t been without his helmet since swearing the Creed. The thought of this breeching such a commitment crosses his mind. And while…yes, he had removed his helmet, his face was still concealed.

It was much like the unspoken loophole of removing it in the cover of darkness. The intention of which would have allowed him to give into your pleas for his lips on yours. That he had wanted to do, despite the skimming of lines that should not be crossed. The lines that defined his Creed.

He looked…like one of the natives of the planet. And that was the only consolation he could find in the need for the outfit.

They’re merely walking through the marketplace, when they see you among the stalls. Din’s instincts urging him to turn onto the street.

You’re right there.

You’re real.

You’re okay.

His heart skips a beat and then quickens, nearly vibrating it’s so fast a pitch. His breath stolen from his lungs as he sees you moving among the crowds. You…you’re so beautiful and luck seems to be on his side as you look unharmed. You seem to be at ease, moving from stall to stall with a pair of guards trailing behind you by a few yards. Black flowing robes much like his own, but the rapier style swords fastened to their sides acted as a silent threat. Weapons in the main part of the city were forbidden.

But you…you were so magnetizing, and Din’s feet were carrying him toward the stall you had stopped in front of. Distantly, he heard the hush of Cara warning him to be cautious. But it was as if the world had shrunk down to just you, his eyes tracking you as if you would vanish should he look away for the barest of seconds.

The fabric of your rather elegant dress a mix of soft white and pale cream. It highlighted the natural golden hue of your skin, though the only part visible was the length of your neck down to your chest with a rather low neckline. The supple skin of your breasts was accented by sparkling golden beading along the collar, creating a dip between them where it was concentrated. The bodice of the dress was cinched by an intricate belt made up of diamond jewels set into gold that created a floral shape right over your stomach before the skirt of the dress billowed out in flowing layers.

The sleeves were long, bishop in style, allowing for the fabric to be loose before cinching around your wrists. Allowing for you strong, capable hands to be exposed. Golden designs of lace woven into the fabric of them and the front of you below where the belt rested on your front. You were sparkling, from the bangles around your wrists to the delicate headpiece that kept your hair away from your face. He could see it as you moved about to take in the fruits of the stall, the way that thin netting was laid over the length of your hair, stones glittering in the sun as you did so. You were a vision bathed in white and gold, his brain short circuiting at the sight of you after so long apart.

But you didn’t look to be a captive, aside from the guards keeping close. No, you looked like you were free of worries, complicit in the life you had been stolen away to be a part of. It was as if this was just another day to run errands and take in the sights of the city, no undertones of eyes glancing around to look for an escape. No tension in your muscles as if poised to run at the first chance. And alarm bells sounded in Din’s mind, loud and harsh. Stirring unease in his middle, bubbling up to tighten in his chest.

He couldn’t help but approach you, even if he had no clue what words to breathe should he be able to find his voice. Even if he had no clue how you would react to seeing him after the emotional fallout from so many days ago. But when you turned to him with a smile, lips closed and eyes kind, they only flitted over his face before they moved down along his body toward where ad’ika had popped his head and chest over the top of the bag slung over his shoulder.

He certainly hadn’t expected you to recognize him, he was without his armor. And though you knew the shape of his body and the way it reacted to your touch; you didn’t know him as he stood beside you now. In flowing black robes and brown leather, a head cover secure over his curls and a flowing material hiding his face aside from his eyes. He realized you wouldn’t be able to recognize them, having never seen the brown of them before. And he greedily drunk in the sight of you without his helmet, delighting in the way the sun lit up the features he had come to admire.

But your attention wasn’t even on him, it was on the small form that had reached out for the bundle of berries in your grip. Plucking one and popping it in his mouth with a satisfied hum. But there was no recognition that flickered over your face upon seeing ad’ika either. It was as if you were seeing him for the first time, a polite curiosity in your gaze. And Din’s gut lurched.

It hadn’t been long enough for you to forget the child, forget him. Forget the life the three of you had carved out from circumstance. Unless you were playing along to not alert the guards of being reunited, not wanting them to suspect anything was amiss. But…but Din didn’t think you were pretending. There had been no fast glance back to him upon seeing the child crop up, there had been no hitch of your breath as realization of him standing beside you set in.

It was as if you didn’t know him at all, know the small form of the child holding your adoring attention.

“Well, hello there, little one.” Your voice was so smooth and calming, like silk against his ears after having not heard it in so many days. He watched as you tilted the bowl closer, making it easier for a tiny green claw to retrieve another berry. A laugh bubbled from you as the child smacked on the fruit, happy sounds flowing from him unbidden.

And then, with a simple question, Din’s heart shattered.

“He’s rather cute, is this your child?”

You had focused your attention back up to him, though you avoided his eyes again. Something he was beginning to think was just a part of every version of you. Because the one standing in front of him was not his own. It couldn’t be.

Words, so many of them, burst to life and died on his tongue in the silence between you two. None of them making it past his lips, his voice lost in injustice of finally being reunited with you and you having no clue as to who he was. Of how much you had been through together, the promises you had whispered to each other, the soft sighs of waking up together, the harsh grunts and desperate whimpers shared between yearning bodies. You had no clue what you meant to him. The only thing he was certain of, was that he was a stranger to you.

Clearing his throat, he managed to utter an affirmative to your gentle question.

“I’ve never seen any like him before, he seems like the sweetest thing.”

And he wanted to tell you that you allowed for him to be so, for the child to have the protection of your skills and caring heart to be just a child after being held a captive for so long. That he had stolen him away from those who wished him harm with your aid. But suddenly, you were being approached by the vendor, your attention splitting from them both beside you.

“Ma’am, you’ll have to pay for- oh, Princess Cala. I’m so sorry.” Strict words and steal façade falling as the man approaching realized who you were. Princess. Because that’s what you were, had been swiped from him to be another’s wife. All memories of your commitment to him forgotten in a cruel twist of fate that Din was determined to get to the bottom of. To rectify. Though he had no clue how to even begin such a daunting task as he was still struggling to accept that it was so. “I was unaware you were in the markets today. Please, take whatever you wish. I will send for payment from Sir Cala at the end of the day.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright.” You appeased gently, hands digging into a small pouch hidden among the layers of your dress. Credits clinked as you set them down atop the table, the jingling of your bracelets catching ad’ika’s attention and he reached for them. “It’s just a little snack today, nothing too crazy.”

As the vendor turned back to duck inside, away from the bright sun and the watching eyes of the guards, it happened.

Ad’ika’s skin connected with your own and you were buckling at the sudden energy that Din could feel flow between you both. Ripples of is cascading through the air. Body overwhelmed and knees weakening at the onslaught as a strangled gasp fell from your lips. Just as you had done back at the compound, history repeating itself in a way he hadn’t expected. He was quick to close the distance, to wrap his arms around you and hold you up. You allowed him to pull you close, your chest flush with his as heaving breaths matched his stuttering ones.

His body igniting at the feel of you against him once again. Of the way your hands gripped his arms to support yourself. The prick of your fingers digging into his muscles and the way your mouth had fallen open in surprise. It was all so normal, the reactions of your body against his. Natural, the magnetism between your bodies making everything feel alright even if it was just for the barest second.

“I’ve got you, mesh’la. Are you alright?” Voice low, he felt it robbed from him when your lashes fluttered, and your eyes met for the first time.  They glinted with something and then –

“Unhand the princess, no one is to touch her!” Twin forms of the guards watching over you were suddenly closing in. It took every ounce of strength he possessed to not take all your weight securely into his arms and run. Hush of swords being pulled from their sheaths had you tearing your eyes away from him, had you shifting your footing to hold yourself up a little better though you didn’t let go of him. And he was grateful for the prolonged seconds of getting to feel you in his arms.

“It’s alright!” You assured the guards, halting them in their steps with a polite smile. “I just tripped is all!”

Loosening the hold he had on you, his hands remained steady as you stepped back from him to stand on your own once again. He was aware of the hard looks aimed at him, as distance bloomed between your bodies.

Endlessly considerate and caring toward the ad’ika, even if you didn’t know it, you carefully handed the bushel of berries into his small claws.

You were bidding him goodbye with an impersonal bow. And he wished to feel the unspoken greeting and departing habit of your forehead nudged against his own you two had established over the course of your time together.

He fell in line behind them, a safe distance away to not attract their attention or suspicions. His focus so completely on you, the captivation you held over him even now, especially now, spelling his feet forward through the last of the market and through the streets. He was silent as Cara fell into step beside him, questions flowing from her that fell on his straining ears. You were talking with the guards, though it seemed like you were merely confirming the rest of the plans for the day.

And they would know, they would be by your side every time you left the palace, he mused as he watched your trio wait outside of the large wooden doors that led into the place you now called home. It was surrounded by a large, easily fifteen-foot wall made up of decorative tiles and white stone. He caught a glimpse of large gardens, complete with bright blue ponds and lush plant life making a beautiful backdrop to your form. But his eyes snapped back to you, taking notice of how the guards had begun to walk away and toward a small building that must act as their command center. They were replaced by two young women, dressed in long pale blue layers that followed your every step.

As you began to move along the paths lined throughout the garden, a figure approached you. And the tension Din had been worried to not see in your shoulders seemed to slam into you. The figure moved from beneath the shade of a large palm, having been waiting on a bench. It was a woman, one who bore a strong resemblance to you from tone of skin to the color of your eyes. Your mother.

Arms were slung together and Din could see even with the distance how her touch made you uncomfortable. And it was all so confusing. You remembered your mother, memories of her intact but you had somehow forgotten who he was, who ad’ika was. Forgotten who you were enough to not make an attempt to escape, submitting yourself to the life your mother had created for you.

And then, a man in elaborate robes adorned with jewels and lace designs much like your own approached you both. He was dressed in colors that complimented your own clothing. His own jewelry fastened over his head cover much like yours, though decidedly heavier, more masculine to the dainty feminine of yours. Matching.

A hand came over his shoulder as he realized he was breathing harshly, no helmet to disguise the deep push and pull of it as he watched you disentangle from your mother and step into the man’s personal space. The front of your bodies touching together as his hands splayed wide on your shoulders, as your own wrapped around his neck. As you perked up to press your forehead to his, in the way that was Din’s.

His chest hurt, his hands clenched, body alight with the need to rush forward and tear the two of you apart from each other. His ears hurt with the silence pressing against them too firm to shake. To press his own forehead against your own and plead with you to see him, to remember him. Remember what you meant to each other.

It was a small blessing of the Maker that your back was to him, because he didn’t think he would be able to take the way your gaze had softened as you looked into the eyes of the man holding you. The same one he would find aimed at him throughout the day, mirth in your eyes as your lips pulled into a soft smile. Adoration and admiration soothing the concentrated look you normally held. Not when the man looking back at you held the same exact expression.

The one always hidden behind his visor.

The same face that was now hardened in a flurry of emotions, his jaw clenched tight, teeth grinding, and eyes ablaze as he watched the man dip his face and press his lips to yours in a kiss.

A kiss.

The very thing that had unraveled the entire life you two had created out of circumstance and connection, the very thing you now shared with another.

Your easy laughter was what brought his senses back, though it was cut off from him as quickly as it had been delivered as you began to walk hand in hand with the man down the path leading to the palace entrance.

Din’s mind was working, working, working. Trying to figure it out, trying to come up it a way to figure it out. To rectify it. To make it right. To make everything right.

And as if a chip was falling into place, he realized. They could fall into line as a guard and a handmaiden.

It was so obvious, so easy, the plan coming together in his mind as the wooden doors swung shut and stole you away from his watching gaze.

“Mando…” Cara’s voice was gentle, as if she was worried she would startle him. Spur him into movement toward you, tackling the obstacles that stood between you both despite the consequences. “I don’t know exactly what-“

“We’ll talk back at the ship.” His words were rough, voice rumbling as if he had just swallowed gravel. It felt thick in his throat, coating his tongue and making it hard to speak.

“It’s customary for visitors to stay in the tourism sector.”

“I’m…low on credits.” He admitted, aware that his words were carried on deep exhales, air hard and solid when breathed in. Aching, hurting, stinging in his throat as he closed his eyes to rid himself of the image of you embraced so intimately with that man, with your husband. But the image was burned into the backs of his eyelids, pressing on him even as he clenched them shut.

“Good thing I’m not. Let’s go, I have a feeling you’re going to tell me this isn’t going to be as simple as sneaking in at night and whisking her away.”

Din followed the woman’s lead through the city, through the gates and toward the collection of tourism amenities. The sounds of the ocean waves getting louder the further they moved away from the palace.

The suite was grand, decorated lavishly in soft earth tones. Bright jewel tones accenting it all around.

But Din’s eyes were unfocused, unseeing as they stared down at the carpet, his head in his hands as he sat rigidly on the couch. With a deep breath pulled in and then let out, he deflated. Chest tight like he was being retrained with ropes, his limbs tingling as if the blood was having trouble flowing through them. His nerves felt both numb and overwhelmed all at the same time.

Cara just paced around the room, searching for potential bugs while she ensured ad’ika was settled in a chair with the fruit you had bought for them in a bowl for him to occupy himself. Din’s voice returned to him when he felt the couch shift with her weight on the other side.

“She doesn’t know who I am.”

“I wouldn’t recognize you, Mando, it’s just the clothes. I’m sure she was just pretending to be clueless to avoid suspicion. She saw ad’ika and even got him those berries.”

“No. Cara.” He surged up, feeling the need to move. To be on his feet, his mind hurling endless self-depreciating thoughts. This was all his fault, you were in the arms of another man because of him, your mother had been able to snatch you away because of his carelessness. His lack of speed when chasing after you, his lack of ability to have tracked you down and bring you back to the Crest as quickly as possible. He had failed you, he had failed you beyond comprehension and you didn’t even remember it.

He meant nothing to you, he was a stranger to you. While you willingly lived alongside that man who had every intention of letting you know how much he wanted you, desired you, who kriffing kissed you.

Aware of her eyes on him, Din paced back and forth in front of the couch. Feeling the need to move, to run, to chase, to track, to fix. She was watching him, a conflicted look about her features as she thought over the things they witnessed. The blatant issues that they had to move around in order to get to you.

Maker, what if…what if you shared the man’s bed. That would add another layer of complication to breaking you free of your imprisonment. Was it even imprisonment anymore? Did it qualify if you didn’t know the people who surrounded you were the ones who had manipulated you so completely, so intricately that they had somehow wiped your memory and fed you a story of what they wanted their lives to be in order to make it a reality?

Even if he could manage to convince you that you weren’t meant to be a dank ferrick princess in a palace, how would he prove to you that you were meant to be with him? His ship was old, needed repairs too often, his way of life, it all paled in comparison to the residence you had now, the quality of life you had now. How was he supposed to make you understand that he cared about you and that you cared about him if you didn’t know who he was?

Your mother certainly knew what she was doing. From the wiping of your memory to make it harder for him to convince you that your life was a sham, a lie, a false thing made up by those around you to the warning posters of him plastered around the city. The version of you he knew was wary of strangers and he would bet everything in his name that you still held that reservation. That anything he or Cara had to say wouldn’t be taken lightly, most likely result in their immediate order of removal should you find them guilty of trying to manipulate you.

“She doesn’t remember me. Or ad’ika. Her mother must’ve done something to her. There was no recognition in her eyes.” Heart thudding hard in his aching chest, Din couldn’t stop the sob that wracked through him. “I’m nothing to her.”

Darkness and the pull of the cold feeling drumming through your veins lightening ever so slightly as you begin to rouse, body limp and not heeding your commands to move. Alone. You’re alone. Metal clinking and heavy around your wrists and ankles. Around your neck.

You’re shackled, restrained, drugged.

Like so many times before, like you had never wanted to be again.

It’s quiet, unnervingly so.

Opening your eyes doesn’t allow you more of the setting you’re in, only darkness of the room you’re hidden away in. Gravity lurches and you know, can sense it: that you’re aboard a ship that has just taken off into the air. Traveling and distance growing, taking you away from them. From him.

Had he even realized you were gone? That you had been seeking solace, a way to return to him without shame prickling your skin and guilt flooding you, body tight and mind remorseful.

Everything was a haze. Everything jumbled up into a messy recollection. The pleasure that had been igniting you, the feel of his fingers deep and hitting that spot just right, building you up and tearing down your inhibitions. Enough so that you had pleaded with him for the one thing you knew he wouldn’t give you. And then it was gone, shifting to rejection. The blank, emotionless helmet shielding the way he must’ve been so repulsed by your question, your desperation to have more of him when he had already given you so much. Needy, selfish, you had been so wrapped up in him that you had offended him beyond words. Warped the path you two had been traveling together, guiding him without realizing it, off the distinguished trail and into the unknown. To the forbidden. Toward sin.

You had tried to convince him to break his Creed.

Heart heavy and mind trying to piece everything back together, you convulsed. Shocks ripping through you at the sudden movement.

Whimpering, you felt it was more than deserved. This punishment, being forced to submit once again at the hands of your mother. All of it was because of the temptation you had dared to whisper to a man so devoted. He would’ve lost everything had he followed you into it. From the very identity of himself to the new standing of a clan he had just been granted. All gone.

And for what? A measly kiss with someone who didn’t even know how to want without asking for too much. A shared mingling of breath and teeth and tongue with someone who should’ve been long dead for their own sins.

Brightness burst into the room, assaulting your senses as footsteps shuffled close.

The prick of a needle sharp, the swoop of your nerves being calmed and then raised to tingling heights.

A gentle caress of a hand on your cheek and the last thought you had before you were pulled back into the darkness heart more than anything your mother could do to you:

He hadn’t come after you. He had let you walk away.

We can’t…I-I don’t...

Through the hull and off the ship, let you slip into the crowd where he hoped you would disappear from his sight. Vanish from his life and taking the sins you had tempted him with.

Compliant. You would be compliant this time around. Now knowing that there was nothing else for you, the entire galaxy making a mockery of your attempt at finding a life other than this. The blood of so many on your hands and cleaned off the hilt of your saber, the reason as to why you didn’t deserve happiness or comfortability. That you hadn’t deserved him.

And it hurt. More than the throbbing high spurred on by the drugs in your system. More than the memories of everything you had ever known being ripped from your desperate hands, not once but twice. The thought of him simply sat on that cot still, slowly dressing, gathering the things you had left behind and shoving them in a crate to never be opened again, hurt. The thought of him climbing toward the cockpit and bringing the ship to life, of guiding it up into the air and leaving the planet behind, leaving you behind, hurt. It was devastating.

Because you knew, you know he would’ve come to your aid if he had known what had happened. That you had been on your way back to the ship with an apology on your tongue when you had been ambushed. You know he would’ve protected you, even if he didn’t want you. Out of some sort of personal obligation, out of the empty commitment he had made to you that now felt like a ploy to get you into his bed.

He had known your past, seen the evidence of it in your words and nightmares. He had known to how use it to his advantage, to whisper sweet nothings and notions of care beyond what you could provide him with your body to get exactly that. He had known to not pressure you, to let you come to him and he would get what he wanted all along. The same as every man, only seeing you as a body to warm your bed.

But…he wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. I love you.

He had said it first, as he bled out on that dirty cantina floor as the building crumbled around you both.

Anything spoken by a man of few words had to mean something. Had to be genuine. Had to be real.

And that hurt far worse, that he cared and had still let you walk away. Disappear into the crowd of the planet, only to be taken hostage and away from him. That he had let it happen.

The confusing and painful thoughts circling around in your sluggish mind were cut short, turned to smoke that wafted away when the metallic clang of what had to the locking mechanism on the door to where you were being kept. Artificial light filtered into the room, blinding you as your eyes tried to adjust to the sudden shift from near blinding darkness. A soft voice was speaking to you, thought you couldn’t make out the words. Brain scrambled and too loaded up to understand.

It was astonishing, really, even through the haze, that your mother’s hands were gentle on you despite the things she subjected you to. Comforting caresses and fingers moving your hair and clothing in ways to avoid pinching or pain as she removed the shackles and began to untangle you from the chains that had wrapped around you. It felt like a loss, to no longer have them pressing into your skin, no longer holding you up as your head rolled on hard to hold up neck.

“Oh oh oh, it’s okay, sweetie, I’ve got you.” Your mother’s voice was syrupy sweet, coating you in its allure. The only thing you truly knew was real in this moment of time. Her hands helped you up on weak legs, arms going around your waist to hold you to her, support most of your weight. “We’re home, my darling. I think it’s gonna treat us well, this time around.”

Confusion colored your senses and prompted a warbled sound to fall from your lips as she led you to the fresher. She helped to disrobe you, carefully peeling the clothing from your scuffed and sweaty skin. The weight of your hair being let loose from its braided updo stirred the beginnings of a headache. Trying to establish itself even in the presence of the drugs thrumming through your veins.

She washed you free of the sweat and grime that had built up on your skin in the time it had taken to guide your sluggish and unaware form onto a ship for travel.

Hands that didn’t feel like her own filled your senses. Larger than hers, rougher than hers, more intentional than hers. The feeling being washed away along with the suds and bubbles down the drain as you felt the prick of something in your neck and everything became fuzzy.

Things slowly returned to you as you felt the hum weighted over you lighten. Gravity shifted and a feeling of foreboding bubbled up in your stomach, prickling the instincts compressed inside your mind until they could do nothing but trigger ever so slightly. The hush of the door opening had you shifting atop the bedding, looking toward it to see the shadow of your mother approaching you with a cloak.

But it wasn’t yours, because the one you had been gifted, the one with the beautiful floral clasps to keep it closed, had been left behind in your haste. Haste to run from the feelings of inadequacy and heartbreak that threatened to overwhelm you even if you couldn’t piece together the specifics. Too overcome with the things your mother pressed into your veins to have you sluggish and heeding her commands.

The flash of a shiny reflection of sunlight against the metal of a sword stirred something in you as you walked alongside her. She was supporting most of your weight, guiding you along down the ramp of the ship and you paused at the sight before you. Blinking, ensuring that the image wouldn’t melt away and that it was real, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

A garden. Lush and green, was stretched out before a grand palace of white and sandy stone. Pillars and domes accent the different parts of grand sight. It was magnificent and entirely too complicated for you to be able to find a way to escape once within the walls. Guards cloaked in black were stationed at the main entrance and along entryways within the halls. Women in rich jewel tones scattered about the palace as your mother guided you through it, being led herself by a man who held an air of authority about himself.

Your heart beating fast, dizzyingly fast and your breath becomes labored, pitchy. It garners the attention of your mother, the shift from quiet to increasing panic as your led further into the maze of halls and buildings. She holds the control to the shackles about your wrists and ankles in her hand, waving it at you to quell the twitching of your muscles as you tried to resist running, of harnessing the Force to send everyone around you flying through the wide hallway. The silent threat of the electricity sparking through your synapses paired with the way the world didn’t feel quite right, everything off kilter and slightly blurry, fuzzy all around you had you obeying her without a word.

She commanded the people around you both as you were ushered through a door into a sterile room, medical equipment and first aid supplies collected in a large cabinet. The medical center, you guessed through the haze and worry spiked through you. What was she going to have them do to you?

With soft words, she urged you to lay down atop one of the cots. Smoothing your hair away from your face with gentle hands as the prick of a needle startled you. An attendant, a man dressed in dark red billowing layers, had stuck you with a syringe.

Before you could form your lips around a question, a plea, the edges of your vision blurred. Within seconds, the room was spinning and your eyes fluttered shut. The last thing you thought of before being pulled under the influence of the sedative was a plea for Din and ad’ika to be safe, wherever they may be.

“Alright,” Your mother chirped once you had fallen unconscious. The man in red regarded her with a blank expression, knowing that he was here for one reason and one reason only. Being paid generously for the use of his skills and the machinery that he possessed. He was one of the few who had been sought out by the New Republic to recalibrate and repurpose something used by the Empire that would prove useful for them as well.

Rumors of such a machine were whispered across the galaxy, most believing them to have been destroyed. But they would be wrong, they were very prevalent in the reformation and reintroduction of the Empire’s countless forces back into the general population. To break the spell of indoctrination imposed on them with low force electric vibrations. The Six-O-Two Mitigator, otherwise known as a Mind Flayer. Curtesy of the royal families firm standing within the New Republic and their generous donations to help fund their endeavors.

“Is it ready?”

“Yes, it’s been calibrated to perform at a higher voltage to achieve what you’ve requested.” He spoke as he watched two attending medics wheel the cot you were laid upon toward the doorway that lead into another room. He followed them, with a wave of his arm to allow for your mother to proceed him. She did so with a dip of her head.

“I’m sure you know how to oblige what is being requested of you. From me and from the Prince. We will settle for nothing less.”

“I do, you want me to target the memory glands.”

“Yes, eradicate anything that sparks in response to the Mandalorians and the Jedi. Warp them if you have to.”

“I will do my best, it may take multiple sessions.”

“That’s quite alright, we are here now. We have the time.”

Something was wrong. Something was missing.

And your head was pounding, a dull pain throbbing at your crown and moving down, down, down to coat your entire body. Groaning, you realized you were laying in a large, plush bed. Pillows and soft blankets surrounding you, having allowed you the comfort to sleep deeply. Deep enough that you couldn’t recall the location of where you were.

The room is beautiful, all pale, soft tones that match the way you had always wanted to decorate your own home one day. But it was a lost thought, something that would never come to fruition. A personal home that you would never have, a home that you would never share, because the people that you love no longer exist to you, faded into blips you can’t recall. But there was one shadow that you could sense in the back of your mind. And it was making you worry about the way you couldn’t fill it. The underlying feeling of something wrong settling low in your gut.

The room is completely foreign as is the scene of a desert city surrounded by large, formidable walls of stone. You now stood on the balcony, having crossed the spacious interior decorated with tapestries and thin beaded curtains to take a look outside. Your body protested the movements, sluggish to respond to your need to figure out where you were.

The door creaked open, a pair of young women with a tray froze as they say you out on the balcony.

And then, a familiar figure shouldered past them with a wide smile.

“Mother?”

“Yes, my sweetheart, how are you feeling?” She was across the room, her arm over your shoulder as she guided you to take a seat in one of two chairs that surrounded a small, low table. Across from them, on the other side, a long, curved couch that looked to be velvet stretched out.

“I feel okay, I’m just a little confused. When did we move….here?” You felt like something was missing still, aside from the curiosity of the foreign environment. You were looking around the room, trying to nudge that vague shadow of whatever it was into a more concrete form. And then it did, the shadow took the form of a man and your heart skipped a beat. “Is he okay?”

“Who, honey?”

“Um…the man I’ve been traveling with. He- he was injured, his…his head!” You felt panic ripple over you, very real and so overwhelming. You had been traveling with someone, that much you knew. But the name, the specifics of him weren’t coming to you. But it felt so real, the phantom feel of the man who you had been with, you carried him with you, and you needed to know if he was okay.

“Honey, he wasn’t the one that fell. You were.”

“Where is he?” Her words didn’t shake the panic settling into your bones. A memory of kneeling in front of an injured man, cradling his face in your hands as he lay before you flashed in your mind’s eye. The feeling of heat washing over you, as if trying to consume you.

“He’s a very busy man, he was going to visit this afternoon.” You mother tried to console you, moving to sit on the arm of your chair and reaching out to cusp a hand over your shoulder.

“I need to see him now!” You stood, anger spiking. Lungs aching for air, for the vision of the man whose touch was ghosting over your skin, whispers of promises and comfort filling your ears. All coming back as the shadow in your mind grew larger and larger, taking space and becoming all consuming,

“Alright, honey, hold-“ She caught your hand as you walked past her, set on searching for him. Needing to see him, to ensure that he was okay. The feeling of warm blood thick on your hands.

“That’s quite alright, Lena.” A deep voice spoke from the open doorway and you felt your knees buckle as you looked over toward it. The tall figure of a broad man was standing there, dressed in orange and gold. He had dark, thick hair on the top of his head and decorating his face. He looked healthy and relief replaced the panic. The feeling of comfort at his few words urging you back up from where you had reached out for the couch. Memories of laughter and teasing, of time spent together coming back to you as if he had brought them into the room with him. “I had a spare moment today, is everything okay here?”

“I-I just…I needed to make sure you were okay.” The words left you in a shaky breath. His image filled the form of the shadow, pushing you toward him. He opened his arms and you moved into them, lifting up on your tip toes to press your forehead to his own and everything whirling around in your mind calmed.

“My heart, are you alright?” His breath fanned over your face and your eyes focused on his lips. Waiting for an answer to flow from them. For all the memories that had flooded back when you first looked at him, you couldn’t recall the feel of his lips on your own.

“I’ve got you, beautiful. Everything is going to be okay.”

Before the last word was uttered, you were surging up and pressing your lips to his.

Weeks go by, the days spent with your mother and the maidens assigned to look after you and ensure you had everything you needed. Prince Cala was accommodating, doting almost when he was free from the responsibilities that came with running a successful city. He was a prince, you learned. Set to inherit his royal standing of king and full control over the city once the marriage he had proposed to you in your murky past came to fruition. He was all soft, casual touches and kisses pressed to your temples. He hadn’t kissed you fully since that first day you had woken up and you could understand his hesitancy. You were still struggling with your memory, no exact recollection of your lives together.

Assurances spoke from both him and your mother that this was indeed your life, even if everything seemed so new and part of a routine you didn’t quite feel like you were a part of. You were…slightly uncomfortable in your mother’s presence, when alone. An almost fearful undertone as you watched her movements closely, feigning focused interest in the things she told you and shared with you to mask the way your eyes catalogued everything. There was a faint weight that pulled in your gut when she would touch you, her hands always gentle but it was as if… it was as if your body was waiting for the gentle to give way to something more sinister, more ill-intentioned.

You felt more at ease with the man who had filled the shadow in your mind, his presence calming and kind. You weren’t waiting for his touch to sour, though it didn’t spring forth any feelings of desire or yearning from you. A causal intimacy between you both. Slightly disjointed in the way that you had separate room when you could recall sleeping beside a warm body before your accident. In the way that he would press his forehead to yours in greeting each morning and departure each night, the warmth of his skin against yours feeling….wrong as you recalled a coolness in the memories of the practiced motion. In the way that your flowing gowns and light layers looked beautiful in every color provided to you helped to alleviate the heat of the planet but felt too…impractical when you could recall feeling different clothing against your skin, practical, durable.

But for all the things that felt slightly shifted, you also found familiarity.

The ever present heat and bright sunshine of the planet, so unlike your own world of K’ath and yet it was almost comforting in a way. The food you enjoyed at the words of your mother and fiancé to the kitchens to keep on hand. Fresh fruits, crispy vegetables, and warm bread slathered with salted butter fresh from the ovens. Plenty of soups served over rice and easy broths for you to sip from ornate china, never anything too heavy or slathered in rich sauces. Sweet treats in the form of artisan chocolate, decadent cakes with frosting covering them in intricate designs and an endless supply of fresh, strong caf.

But you took it all in stride, spending time in the gardens, memorizing the walkways that wound through them and around the cerulean ponds filled with colorful fish. Spending time in the library and reading through the history of the planet and the city. Spending time in the lush sunroom decorated with plush rugs, overstuffed seating, and a nice view of the grounds just beyond it. Spending time overlooking the beautiful sights of the city and the distant ocean from your balcony, unable to shake the feeling like you were supposed to be somewhere else.

You tried to ignore the guards hovering around you as you explored the streets of the market. You had earned the outing after your good behavior, showing restraint in the questions you had wanted to ask but didn’t want to repeat yet again the night before. Shaking those thoughts from your head, you reached up and adjusted the dainty crown atop your head. The beautiful netting sprinkled with jewels fanning the base of it cascading over your hair in quite a nice way and it would look beautiful if the piece weren’t a deadly threat. It was a little overkill, you thought. Even if you had been nothing but willing to play along to your mothers and husbands’ words despite feeling like something was wrong, missing, like this wasn’t your life. But they were all that you knew right now, the figure of your mother familiar from childhood and you heeded her words.

You were at a stall that had an array of colorful and fragrant fruits, the sweet perfume of them blending together too tempting for you to bypass without checking out. A creature of habit, your mother called you. A woman of expensive taste, teasingly aimed at you from your husband. They knew you

You paused to hold a bundle of sunset orange berries up to inspect. A small green hand with three fingers suddenly reached out for the bowl in your hand and you jumped only slightly at the sudden company you had as you perused the stalls offerings. You turned a cautious look over but a smile broke out on your face at the cute visage of a small, wonderous face peeking out from a canvas bag that seemed to be his safe space.

“Well, hello there, little one.” You lowered the bowl for the small creature to reach for a berry, the fruit stuffed into his mouth with a happy sound that had a laugh bubbling up from your chest unbidden. “He’s rather cute. Is this your child?”

You canted your attention up, at the broad man dressed in all black who was wearing the child’s bag over a shoulder. His clothing was nondescript, matching that of the priests who littered the town. Flowing cassock and wrap atop his head. His face was obscured, much like their own by black gauzy material draped from underneath it. His dark brown eyes were the only thing visible, and you smiled at him trying to come across as friendly. You didn’t want to anger anyone in town lest they had a connection to your new family.

The figure didn’t speak for a moment, seeming to take stock of you, gauging if you were a threat or not, something everyone seemed to be doing when interacting with you. A newcomer, an outsider, not one of the many tourists visiting the city for their own amusement, but someone brought in to be a part of the ruling family. Confirmation sounded through the fabric masking his face from you and you nodded to show you heard. “He is.”

“I’ve never seen any like him before, he seems like the sweetest thing.” The child let out small coos, as if knowing he was being talked about. He reached for another berry but held it out to you this time. You shook your head lightly and another laugh bubbled up even as you felt the heavy gaze of his father on you.

“Ma’am, you’ll have to pay for- Oh, Princess Cala, I’m so sorry. I was unaware you were in the markets today. Please, take whatever you wish, I will send for payment from Sir Cala at the end of the day.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright. It’s just a little snack today, nothing too crazy.” You smiled wide at him, hoping your behavior will be relayed back to your new family and they will lower their intensity. But you also genuinely appreciated this man, he treated you like a person while everyone else in the market kept a wide berth around you. Afraid of either you as a newcomer or the guards that tailed you, you hadn’t been able to work it out yet. You reached for the small pouch attached to your belt, the jingling of the bracelets on your wrists drawing the attention of the child.

You felt the tug of on them as you reached out to place a few credits for the bowl of berries on the stand, nodding your thanks as you turned to face the child again. He was gripping the bracelets tightly, his skin touching yours as he did so and a clash of emotions flooded you, causing you to gasp and your knees buckled. Before the guards could reach you, the tall man had stepped close and his arms were wrapped gently around your back, holding you to his chest to help steady you.

“I’ve got you, mesh’la. Are you alright?” His head was pitched so his voice was right beside your ear, and it sent a shiver through your body, the timbre of it so alluring. It was all you could hear though you were aware of the soft babbling of the child close to you and the harsh voices of the guards. You felt completely calm with him, like returning to your home after a long day. Comforted, safe, cared for. His touch was so familiar, the way he held you feeling like a faint memory though you had never met him in your life.

“Unhand the princess, no one is to touch her.” The guards closed in around you both, trapping you between their bodies and the stall.

“It’s alright! I just tripped is all!” You raised your voice even though it was rather hard to concentrate with the strong body pressed up against you and holding you. You felt the man loosen his hold and step away as you stood straighter. You weren’t quite sure what happened, but he had been quick to help you, even at the expense of drawing the guards’ attention. You smiled at him, something genuine. The feelings he had stirred in you were confusing but not unwelcome. You had no idea why. He was a stranger after all.

“We must return now, Princess Cala.”

When his touch retracted, the warmth that had blossomed in your chest and the quickening of your heart beating against the cage of your ribs didn’t wane. 

You retrieved the bowl of berries and held a few out to the slightly dejected child, his large ears turned downward. “Here you go, little one. Make sure to share those with your papa, okay?”

Another glance roved over his face, a soft smile just for him, and you were bidding him a good day with a bow of your head. The urge to press your forehead against his strong, but you resisted, knowing that it felt too personal a thing for the stranger standing beside you. Your brow furrowed slightly, unsure of where the need to do so rose from. The comfortability and underlying feeling of complete and utter safety that the man stoked in you confusing you, he was a stranger, and yet it felt like there was a string wrapped around your heart that pulled taught and uncomfortable as you began to move away from him.

And with that you were turning and walking away from the stall, two guards leading you back to the palace and two behind you. You could feel the kind man’s brown eyes watching you as you did, daring to look over your shoulder to get one last look at him yourself.

Your breath hitched as your eyes met his even from the distance of the street and you felt the heat from his intimate touch and soft words encompass you completely. A dull pain throbbed in your temple, forcing you to turn away.

previous chapter || next chapter

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

taglist: @clevergirl74 @strawberri-blonde @js-favnanadoongi @littlemisspascal @moonknight-s-cumdump @bookloverkat @golden-mando @beskarandblasters @feral-ferrule @bearsbeetsbeskar @76bookworm76 @anoverwhelmingdin @sarap-77 @picassopedro @sawymredfox @jessthebaker @genetics4life @mosssbawls @vivian-pascal

[erisweekofficial]

Today, we're thrilled to celebrate @climbthemountain2020, the brilliant author behind Flame of Autumn, an Eris x OC fanfic with an arranged marriage trope that has us giggling and kicking our feet. You're going to fall in love with Tilly like we have! (Also who doesn't love a good overthrowing beron plot)

She also is an artist AND makes killer moodboards. We love a triple threat 😈

Read more to get some advice on writing your own OCs and what @climbthemountain2020 would say to Eris on the phone.

What advice do you have for other creators who are interested in writing Eris x OC fics?

I think my best advice is to not be afraid to write differently for Eris than what others might. The fun thing about Eris at this point in canon is we just don't KNOW what he's really like. So if you want to keep his sassy, cunt-serving persona, DO IT. But if you like to picture him a little more like someone who wears a mask and is secretly a softie who is dying for physical affection? Do it! I think I held back writing him for a long time because I was worried I was perceiving him "wrong", but at the end of the day, we're all writing for fun! Don't get caught up in worrying about having to do things a certain way.

What are your thoughts on Eris's relationship with Lucien?

Oh sweet babies. I think Eris knows all about who Lucien's Dad is and has been holding on to that for a very long time. I think Eris loves his littlest brother as much as he's able given his past and their history, and I so hope we get to see some sort of resolution and peace between the two of them before the end of the series.

You have Eris on the phone for 1 minute. What are you saying to him?

The absolute RAUNCHIEST [redacted], and also what happened with Mor in the woods, my guy? What are your thoughts on the Shadowsinger and what did that pesky male whisper in your ear?

Any Eris headcanons?

Eris would annihilate on Hot Ones

Eris lets the dogs sleep in his bed--they absolutely hate everyone but him and it was becoming to dangerous to allow them all to sleep in the stables full time

Eris has always known about Lucien's parentage and has helped his mother keep it a secret

Eris and Rhys are mirror images of each other--Eris is just Rhys without a found family to support him

Please give us a name for one of Eris’s Brothers.

Heavy Bray supporter.

Please give us a name for one of Eris's Dogs.

Cinder, of course.

[yikesitskennawrites]

Transitions- Moodboard Chapter: A Night On The Roof With Your Friend

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Pairings: Steven Grant x (platonic) Reader, Marc Spector x (platonic) Reader, Jake Lockley x (platonic) Reader, Layla El-Faouly x (platonic) Reader

A/N: Its good to be back. This chapter has been sitting in my drafts since January last year. I made a post some time in December 2022 or January 2023 for my readers and followers to make a mood board for this series in exchange for a fluff chapter. I like to keep my promises and here it is baby! thank you to @justalittlehoneybee, @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression, and one other person that I can't find for the mood boards, unfortunately. Thank you so much for being patient for the continuation of this series. I appreciate it!

Mood board

—

NOTE: This chapter takes place between Chapter Forty-Six and Chapter Forty-Seven of Transitions

“It’s been awhile since you took that telescope up to the roof,” Marc says. You pause in poking your bowl of noodles with your fork and glance at him from where you sat at the table. It was nearing nine o’clock in the evening and you were supposed to work and pick up an extra shift for your coworker, Emily. It will be a little earlier than usual tomorrow since she has to take her grandma to the doctors on the weekend because of a weird rash on her leg. You tried to help Jake cook dinner but the apartment nearly caught fire again because of hot oil splashing and an open stove top don’t mix. Luckily, they didn’t blame you for it this time because Jake was trying to teach you how to cook chicken in a skillet on the stove and it was his fault he wasn’t paying attention. 

So, here you are, eating dinner a little too late since it took a while to clean up the mess from your failed attempt and Steven decided that pasta was a better idea than burnt chicken.

“Yeah,” You agree. “It’s been hard trying to find the time to go up there and use it without it being too cloudy.” Your eyes flicker to the window you were just dropped out of not too long ago. The sky has very little clouds which surprised you since there’s almost always clouds during the winter. You can see the moon is in its crescent phase as you absentmindedly poke your noodles. Your eyes trail to his and you stare at him as he looks out the same window you were staring out of just moments ago and hums in agreement. 

“Why don’t we take the telescope to the roof in a bit?” You ask as you return your gaze to your noodles and you scoop them with the fork and chew. 

You can feel his eyes are on you while you eat as he asks, “Don’t you have work tomorrow?” 

“I do.”

“You’ll be tired.”

You shrug, “I’m always tired.”

“You’ll be even more grumpy when you wake.”

“It sounds like you’re trying to make up excuses.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay, so what’s the problem?” You ask in between bites. “Are you going to be tired in the morning when you take me to work? You can come back and take a nap.”

“That’s not it…” He grumbles. You stare at him, his eyes are pointed down at something on the floor. You drop your fork against your bowl and lean back in your chair, deciding that you are done with your half empty bowl.

“So, what is it?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It sure does sound like something.”

“Well, it’s not,” He snaps. Your fingers tap against your thigh as you trail your gaze back over to the window. You can still see the marks that your fingers made when Horus forced you out of it on the wall. Over the past few days since they returned from Algeria you learned that Marc is the type of person where if he wants to do something fun, it has to be your idea. If he wants to watch a certain movie, he’ll give you hints until you ask him to watch the movie with you. Sometimes, Steven picks up on it a bit better than you do and he’ll invite you to watch the movie or go out shopping or do something mundane with them. 

You think Marc just doesn’t know how to ask to spend time with you. Maybe he gets embarrassed to ask or he’s afraid that he’ll be rejected; so it’s better not to ask overall or hint enough for you to pick up. It was a decent night to go up to the roof and gaze at the stars, you would like it to be warmer but you can just layer up and steal Stevens mittens if you need to. Besides, what’s the chances of you falling asleep before eleven tonight, anyways? Jake has to go do his nightly patrolling and you’ll just be wound up until he comes back. 

“Okay,” You breathe out as you grab your bowl and stand up. “I’m going to go get a jacket and some thicker pants before I head up, you’re welcome to join me if you want.” 

“It’s cold out,” He tells you as you walk to the trash and scrape the remaining pasta into it. 

“I know, that’s why I’m taking your thicker sweatpants. Y’know, the ones with the fur on the inside.” You wash your dishes before setting them on the drying rack and passing Marc, who remained in his seat, and going to their dresser to steal his clothes. You rummage through their drawer and pull out a thick pair of socks before taking out the blue threaded bottoms you were talking about. You pull on the sweatpants over your own pajama bottoms and tie them around your waist before pulling on the socks. You grab a sweatshirt from the end of the bed and put it over your t-shirt before slipping on your shoes and walking to the coat rack. You shrug on the jacket that once belonged to Marc- and now it was yours- as you turn towards him.

“It’s a little cloudy out,” He says as he peers out the window.

“I see some patches open,” You tell him without looking out the glass pane. You grab your lanyard, the thin cloth feeling small in between your fingers as you tell him that you’re getting the telescope and going to the roof. Walking down the short distance to your apartment and unlocking the door, you peer into the moonlit room. The cracks in the window are still visible and the floor in front of the door where the intruder was killed is clean of any bloodstain that could be seen just by the naked eye. You know that just behind the picture frame of your parents that there was a hole in the drywall caused by your laptop hitting it. 

So much has happened in this flat over the last six months. You spent time on the floor during the summer heat wave, eating popsicles with your neighbor and trying to not peel your skin off when your thighs stuck to the floor due to your sweat. You also tracked blood from the entryway across the floor to the bathroom when you came back from dinner with your neighbor and got ambushed. You cleaned the broken bulb in the kitchen when Khonshu decided to be extra and shatter it. You were pressed up against the window by Horus and held out of it once, although he didn’t confirm nor deny that it was him. He seemed to ignore your statement when he decided to drop you out the window of Stevens flat after you rejected his offer. 

You can’t believe that a deity saved your life twice, the first when they made you move and fight the cult member; and the second when they stopped you from hitting the pavement after Horus dropped you. Taweret has healed you before but she was never in an active role such as this god. Taweret healed your injuries after you got mugged and the Eye of Horus paper was ripped. She didn’t save you from hitting the pavement, you’re sure of it. 

You spent a little over a year in this apartment being alone but not with the anxiety that seems to be more common these days than it should be. Now you spend more time anywhere but here. You spend more nights at your neighbors and Laylas than you do with your stolen table and couch you bought at a yard sale. So much has happened in such little time. If you didn’t have the knowledge of the things that happened here, you wouldn’t have thought twice about walking on the floor, especially in the entryway. Your hand reaches through the entry way and you flip on the light switch before taking a large step over the patch where you killed the man and heading towards the telescope propped against the wall in the far corner of the room near the couch. 

You would have left it at Stevens place but he doesn’t have much room, besides you shouldn’t clutter his space with your things. It's not like you’re paying rent at his place even though you eat his food, sleep in his bed, and take a shower in his bathroom. Your hands grasp onto the cool metal of the scope as you pause in your steps. Are you just laying in their bed and taking up his space without doing anything useful? You’re not contributing to his home even with the amount of time you spend there. You do the dishes when he cooks or you dirty them. You do the laundry and you have tried to pitch in for groceries but they refused to allow you to do so. But, you haven’t done much else. 

You should talk to them sometime about that. But how do you bring it up to your neighbor that you should pay some portion of their rent just because you take up their space? Can you even afford to do that? You know that you have some money saved up since you don’t grocery shop as much and your water bill is nonexistent since you don’t use your sinks or shower for your own apartment. But, is that enough to give them every month? 

You don’t know, maybe you should think more on this before bringing it up to them. You’re sure that Marc won’t want to chat to you about this, it was more of a Steven conversation, right? It is Stevens' apartment, it is in his name but…Jake and Marc live there too and they are part of Steven just as much as he is part of them. So, shouldn’t this conversation include everyone? 

You carry the telescope towards the exit before your eyes catch the notebook and pencil resting on your coffee table. It is nearly filled with notes on your classes about your upcoming exams before the winter break and you are feeling nervous about them. If you don’t pass, you’ll have to contact your counselor and have a one-on-one conversation with them about why you didn’t pass your class and what you can do in the next term to improve your education. It doesn’t sound terrible, but it truly is because you are considered dead and if your counselor recognizes you, you are fucked. You grab the notebook and pencil, tucking the lead into the metal spiral holding the book together before you pick up the telescope. Are you asking them to move in if you bring up the rent issue? 

Afterall, you were considering paying for their place rather than yours when you thought that they were dead. A small knot in your stomach twists at the memory of those days. Quickly, you push it away and take a breath of air to calm yourself. Should you be the one to bring this up? It sounds like you're possibly inviting yourself to move in one hundred percent. It is their apartment and so far they don't have any problems about your living arrangement. But that doesn't mean they won't if you decide to ask them about it. Who knows, maybe they're going to be against the idea. They are grown men and it is a bit weird that a teenager who is unrelated to them is living with them. 

You should wait to see if they'll bring it up themselves, you shouldn't question them if you should move into their apartment and withdraw from your own space. Mentally, you bookmark the topic and decide to focus on the task of getting outside. Pushing open the door to the rooftop, you walk up the steps and immediately get the shivers from the cool breeze. Goosebumps cover your skin and the metal of the telescope seems to make your hands ten times colder in the stairway. You're not even completely on the roof and you are beginning to. It almost makes you return to the boys apartment to be warm on a soft bed and underneath a pile of blankets. But, instead you persevere and push forward into the December night. Dozens of white dots litter the night sky as if brush was flicked among a canvas. Tonight was going to be great, you can feel it in your bones; although that might be the chill. 

The gravel on the rooftop, crunches underneath your shoes as you walk further onto the roof. Setting down your notebook, you open up your telescope and place it carefully onto its three legs and remove the lens cover before peeking through the scope and at the stars above you. It took a few extra seconds for the lens to adjust and the blurriness to fade, but there above you in all its might was a beautiful sight. The stars never seem to not amaze you. Slowly, you exhale and vapor leaves your mouth as you stuff your hands into your sweats. Maybe in another life you were in university and studying the stars. Maybe in that life you and your best friend are attending the same school. Your hands clench a bit at the thought of her and your stomach turns in grief. What is she up to? You wonder. She has to be completing her highschool education since you are too; or maybe she took a gap year to process your “death.”

Maybe she has a partner or maybe shes attending school but she’s fucking around in it. Maybe she no longer gives a damn about her education since five years were taken from her and so were you. This time this year you both should be applying for scholarships and studying at each other's homes. You both should be brainstorming christmas crafts and teasing her about her wonky paper mache stars from the previous years. But, instead you took a one way plane ride to the other side of the world and cut all the strings that once tied you to your previous life.  You can think of all the alternate lives another you are living all you want, but the simple conclusion is that it is not this one, so why bother? Why think of all the what ifs and the could be when it's no use. It won't change anything, all it will do is make you mourn for the should be’s. 

 You swallow around the lump forming in your throat. Where’s Marc? You think. It felt like it's been too long since you last saw him. It’s definitely been long enough for you to reflect on alternate lives. Perhaps he wasn’t coming and was just making a mere observation that it has been a long time since you took the telescope up to the roof. They did buy you that as a birthday gift and you only have ever used it once. That's an expensive dust collector for your apartment. Did you really come to the roof all by yourself and set everything with the expectation for him to come but get stood up instead? You don’t doubt it. Maybe he decided to go on patrol instead. You came up here with the intent to have a good night and that's exactly what is going to happen. Fuck it if Horus comes and threatens you when you’re all by your lonesome. Fuck him. You can’t let that fear stop you from living your life. 

“Fine,” You breathe out. “He doesn’t have to join me, but he could at the very least have told me they’re going on patrol.” The noise of the door opening behind you causes you to turn and your heart to skip a beat in your chest. Marc's cheeks become tinted red as the winter breeze softly blows into him. 

You clear your throat a bit before you tell him, “I was beginning to think that you weren’t going to take my invite.” You watch him cross the space to you. He holds a navy bubble jacket to his chest as he breathes out, vapor drifting from him as he does so. 

“I should have stayed inside,” He grumbles and hands you the jacket. “Take it and put it on, you’re going to get a cold and I don’t want to deal with you being sick again.”

“Thanks,” You snatch it from him and slide it on before zipping it up. You feel like you’re the Michelin Tire Mascot. All puffed up on your torso and arms which is making it difficult to move an inch but you’re warm with the three layers of tops you have on. A warm feeling drips down from your chest and pools in your gut. It was a feeling that you recognize so easily, you are grateful for his appearance even though you told yourself you were okay with them not showing. You are grateful for everything that they have done for you.

“You’re going to catch your death at this rate.”

“Probably,” You shrug as you step away from the telescope and sit down onto the gravel. You reach for the notebook and pencil a couple of inches away from you.The rocks press harshly into your legs and butt and you know that when you stand up again that you’re going to have rock imprints upon your body even through the clothes. You shift in your spot and try to get comfortable upon the cold ground before you feel his eyes burning into you. Your eyes flicker up and he was giving you a questioning look. 

“What’s that for?” He asks and points to your lap. 

“The notebook?” You raise it a bit and show him your pencil. “I’m charting some stars.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth in response and stuffs his hands into his pockets. The curls on his head blow softly as another breeze passes through you and your papers ruffle a bit. You move your attention to the paper in your lap and begin to chart the stars, glancing back and forth between the sky above you and the notebook you held. You only charted one constellation before you look up and see Marc eying the telescope. 

“Do you want to use it?” You ask and he doesn’t answer which causes you to set down your pencil. “It’s okay if you do. You can use the telescope anytime you want, Marc.”

“Any time?”

“Yes, Marc, any time.” You tell him and pick up the pencil once more to continue. He bends down and adjusts the height for the scope before peering into it. For a while, the only sound between the two of you was the traffic below, the single plane flying in the distance, and your pencil scratching against the surface of the paper. You were feeling content and at peace with it. Marc and you never really spoke for a long time before and you weren’t expecting to now. It was just how the two of you typically interacted. You would sometimes say something or he would too and you always let the silence settle between you before Steven fronts and decides to interact with you. It hasn’t made you uncomfortable in a long time, not since you first met them and felt like you had to cram in conversation every single second so none of you would be awkward. 

It just felt comfortable and peaceful; and you were beginning to settle into it when he said, “Did you know that our sun is a dwarf star?” You did. You learned it in science class when you were a sophomore. It was one of the few introductions to the upper grades astronomy class that your teacher was trying to get your fellow students to be interested in and take within the next two years of highschool. You took that biology class with your best friend and wrote notes back and forth to each other. Marc should know that you already knew it since you were so invested in astrophysics. Which could only mean he was just asking you to have a conversation. 

“Yeah,” You tell him as you glance at the constellation you were sketching before returning your gaze to your notebook. “I learned that when I was a sophomore.” 

He doesn't look at you but focuses on whatever he was looking at as he says, “I loved space when I was a kid. I used to want to be an astronaut. I wanted to be thousands of miles away from home and among the stars. I wanted to visit the moon.” He pauses, causing you to look at him as you roll your pencil between your fingers. “Maybe I would be an astrophysicist like you want to be.” You still want to be, he knows you do and the longing for another life will never go away.

“What happened?” You ask even though you know the answer. 

“I left home as soon as I turned eighteen and joined the army. My dreams stopped.” He shrugs his shoulders as you take in his statement. The adult who you have come to know was a child once. He had dreams and aspirations. He had favorite superheroes in comic books and a favorite cereal. He had a favorite toy and a favorite park to go to. He had preferences over playing on the slide or swings. He once knew the channel number for kids shows. All of that sunk down deep into the starry ocean to never come to the surface again. To never matter. 

 “The best version of yourself has yet to come, kid.” He says. “Don't give up on them.” How could he say that even though he knows you can't do anything about your old aspirations. It kind of felt a punch to your gut, everything felt impossible to do. The idea of succeeding was just dead hope. Your lips part slightly as you get ready to tell him how wrong he is but quickly shut it. He was trying to boost your morals and give you unnecessary pep talk. You don't need that, you know the reality of everything; although you decide to keep quiet about it for tonight. Maybe some other time you'll argue it but tonight wasn't the night for it. You want to keep the peace and have a good time. It was one of the rare times that there was no danger, but rather you and them and the stars above. 

 “Can you help me with charting?” You ask him, he stands up straight and turns away from the scope to look at you. His eyes travel down to the notebook in your lap and back to your face with a questioning gaze. 

“What do you need?” He asks. Honestly, you don’t need the help. You can see the night sky clearly and you can easily tell what the constellations were. He knew that and you know that he knows, but you still want to keep the conversation rolling. 

“Just the location of the stars and the constellations.” You tell him. He stares at you for a moment with a look of something you can’t quite place. Perhaps he was calling your bluff and getting ready to tell you no and leave to go patrol. Maybe he was thinking about how you managed to invite him to a cold ass rooftop at ten in the evening and he agreed to it and now he’s regretting it because of your stupid request. Maybe he was listening to Steven beg him to help you. 

“Yeah,” He tells you.“It’s no problem.” His acceptance somewhat surprises you. You thought he was going to reject you and tell you that you can do it without his help. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Okay, cool,” You pause and glance down to the sketch of what you already started. “Uh, can you start with the one next to the Big Dipper?”

“Did you begin with that one?”

“Yeah, it's easier to go from there than to start with any other one,” You lie, really it was just the easiest one to draw and seek out. It was also your favorite so you put more detail into it than you will with the other constellations. You don’t want to be burnt out by the time you get to it and do a halfass job at doing it justice. He turns around and looks at the sky. 

“Okay, so… I think the next one has a kind of shape to it like a rhombus and a triangle for the left side.”

“Like it's a wonky hedgehog without legs?” You ask and he laughs.

“I guess you could say that.” He says and you swear you hear a smile in his voice as he speaks

“Or a gnome without limbs.” You add.

“Some might say it's a house but turned on its side.” 

“That’s too boring.” You shake your head a bit and release a breathy laugh as you sketch it. You spent the next hour drawing his descriptions and making small talk and jokes as the time passed. It wasn’t until you finish your fifth drawing that a yawn escape your mouth and you feel sleep pulling at your eyes. It was getting late and you do need to get ready for bed. You do have to go to work tomorrow as much as that sucks.  You know that you’re not going to get any rest until they come back but you do have to try. Besides, the sooner they leave the quicker they come back and the more rest you’re going to get.

“Okay,” You say. “I’m ready to call it.” You sign your own name before placing the pencil on the notebook and lifting it up towards him. He raises an eyebrow at you and you sniffle from the cold. Being underneath the blankets in a warm and cozy bed sounds amazing and you are so ready for that.

“Sign it,” You tell him, trying to balance the lead on the page so it wouldn’t fall off. 

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why do you want me to sign it? I barely even helped with it.”

“You did though, you told me where the constellations were and what shapes they should be.” You nod your chin to the notebook. He wasn’t going to get out of not signing it. He did help and he deserves the credit as much as you do. Besides, it will be a fun memory to come across in the future. He takes the book from you and scribbles his name down into something barely legible. As he hands it back, you can recognize the first two letters of his first and last name. You can feel the corner of your lips tilt up and you do your best to hide your happiness as you stand and brush off the pebbles from your body. 

“You have work tomorrow.” He comments as another yawn leaves you. 

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble as you tuck the book underneath your arm as Marc collapses the telescope. Silence is between the two of you and it's not uncomfortable at all. It feels more like the type of silence where the party is over and you both had a good time and now it's time to focus on the other tasks at hand. You head down the stairs and he shuts the door behind you with the items in hand. 

“This was your idea, you know.” He tells you. It was, kind of. Wasn’t he the one who originally commented on the night sky? You can’t really remember, your brain feels too tired to recall any memories leading up to the last couple of hours. 

“Yeah,” You breathe out as you unlock your apartment door. He brushes past you and sets the telescope next to your couch. “I know.” From the hallway, as you watch him return to you, you can see his face is flushed red from the cold but his eyes are a little brighter than before you went up to the roof. He had a good time and you feel glad that you can clearly see that on his face.

“Bedtime,” He tells you and you roll your eyes. 

“I’m not a kid,” You grumble as you lock your apartment door and head towards their apartment. 

“You’re going to be grumpy in the morning like a child would be.” 

“Speak for yourself, you’re always grumpy.” You tell him. He exhales like a laugh leaves him.  

The corner of his lips tilts up in a smile you don’t mention, “We’ll see.”

—

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[mentally-gone002]

is it too early to love you? - final part (7)

(moodboard made by moi)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

summary: reader and spencer meet in the afternoon like they’d promised to play chess and get coffee. everything is prefect and comfortable, even as reader gets brave enough to do something she felt sorry for not doing sooner. 

a/n: gang… i don’t wanna end this one… but idk what i should do past this part😭😭😭 but if yall want more just request smth cuz im obsessed with how this turned out🤓 ALSO ty for all the love you’re given this series, ive had a blast writing this (literally destroyed my sleep schedule i made because i go back to school in like four days or some bullshit) and it’s rlly awesome being a writer that makes fun little things that ppl end up loving!!!! so big ty to all of yall who’ve been reading 

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was this too much?

i stared at myself in the mirror as i adjusted the collar of my sweater with my fingers. 

i’m just going to see my best friend, so why am i dressing like this is a date? and why am i so nervous. 

it’s a good nervous. the kind that had an entire rabble of butterflies fluttering around my stomach.

it wasn’t fancy, just a casual outfit that he’d definitely never seen me in before. i would wear this on a date though. on an occasion like this one.

i stepped away from my reflection. it was 11:30 and it wouldn’t take me longer than ten minutes to get to the coffee shop but i got my shoes on anyway. it doesn’t hurt to be early. 

i left my apartment in a giddy rush. my feet were louder on the stairs than usual due to my quick pace. 

one of my neighbors who was walking inside gave me an amused smile. “what’re you getting up to today?” she asked. 

i directed my eyes towards her. “i’m going to see a friend.” my lips were pinned in a smile. 

she grinned widely. “is it that boy who’s always coming over? the handsome tall one with brown hair?” 

“maybe.” i nodded. 

she gave me a knowing look. “oh honey, are you sure he’s just a friend?”

i tried to hide the flush over my cheeks. “i’m sure.” 

“okay.” she nodded slowly like she wasn’t convinced. “i’ll know when he’s more than that.” 

i rolled my eyes and left the building, deciding to walk instead of drive. maybe it’ll help my energy levels. 

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

i was cold by the time i got to the coffee shop. the autumn air was motionless apart from when cars would drive past me on the street, and the chill bit at my face and hands, even though i had them hidden in the sleeves of my sweater. it was bearable though. 

“welcome in!” 

the cheerful voice of a barista behind the counter mingled with the bell above the door and the chatter of customers placed across the establishment. it was warm inside and it smelled like coffee, for obvious reasons. 

“hey.” a familiar voice sounded behind me. i turned around to look at spencer while he closed the shop door behind himself. 

“hi.” i smiled. 

“have you been here long?” he wondered. 

i shook my head and freed my hands from my sleeves. “no. i got here a minute or two ago…” spencer’s hand on my face had me trailing off. his fingers moved some of my hair away from my eyes.

“did you walk?” his brows were pinched together, more so as i nodded. “it’s cold out.” 

i smiled. he’s too sweet. “i’m okay. it’s not that bad.” i promised him through the tone of my voice and the look i gave him through my lashes. 

he smiled softly with a nod. “good.” 

“we still have a chess game to go play, so you better not let the temperature get to you.” my hand reached out to gently clamp around his wrist so i could pull him after me into the short line so we could get our coffees and then walk to the park. 

“can i try yours?” i asked while walking down the sidewalk, outside again. i gestured to his coffee by tapping the side of it with my index finger. our arms brushed as we walked. 

spencer hummed a ‘yes’ as he handed off his cup to me. 

i excitedly took his cup and sipped from it, cautiously because i’ve heard morgan say that it would put him in a coma if he had more than a sip of it after mixing up an order. this happened years ago but morgan still talks about it.

he was right because when the drink hit my tongue i closed my eyes, pulling a face at how sweet it was. “jesus!”

spencer’s sweet laughter swirled inside my head. he gently took his cup back. “too sweet?” 

i nodded quickly. “yeah. how do you drink that everyday?” i sipped my own coffee to try and get rid of the sugar that still lingered on my tongue. 

when we kissed he tasted like that.

he shrugged. “i don’t know, I’m just used to it i guess.”

our arms brushed again because i can’t walk in a straight line but he didn’t seem to mind. “what did you get?” he quizzed. 

i read the barista’s handwriting on the side of the cup. it was what i got whenever i went to a coffee shop but i still liked to get my answer right. “a half dark half white chocolate mocha with caramel. i got a double shot of espresso today so… we’ll see how that plays out.” my eyes trailed up to his face while we stopped at the crosswalk across from the park. he glanced down at me, eyes all content. his pupils were blown wide which made it hard to see the brown of his eyes. 

“don’t get a caffeine rush on me.” spencer told me. “i might not be able to handle you.” 

i scoffed with a squint of my eyes. “please, you’re able to handle me no matter what.” 

he agreed with me. 

while we were stepping away from the safety of the sidewalk i mindlessly grabbed spencer’s hand. it was just a habit i’ve always had. an instinct to reach out and hold onto whoever i was with while crossing the street. 

when we reached the other side i quickly released his hand. i met his eyes with my own. “sorry. force of habit.” i smiled shyly. 

spencer smiled back. “it’s okay.” 

he found an empty table to play chess at, which was the only one that wasn’t occupied. i never knew people favored playing chess in a park so much until now.

i sat down on a stone chair on one side of the board while spencer sat across from me, pulling a box of chess pieces out of his bag. i watched him slide the white colored pieces over to me. “do you just carry those around all the time?” i wondered while placing all the pieces in the correct places. 

“yeah.” he nodded. 

i smiled. “you have a marry poppins bag.” 

“i love marry poppins.” spencer hummed. 

i laughed quietly in endearment. he’s really pretty today. 

“okay,” i put my hands flush against one another and rubbed them together. “prepare to loose.” i slid one piece forward.

spencer shook his head. “in your dreams.” he moved a piece. 

i watched him and processed a few things i could do before moving. 

we went back and forth in silence for a few minutes before i looked up at him. he was looking at the board with furrowed brows. “when did you learn to play?” 

spencer moved a piece before answering. “when i was a kid. me and my mom would play a lot.” he focused on my lips for a moment before shifting to my eyes. he smiled almost timidly. 

i stole one of his pieces with my next move. it was held between my fingers beside my face. “gotcha.” i whispered. 

he took a piece of mine and mirrored me. “you were saying?”

i frowned. “you’re mean.” i moved again.

“this is all part of the game.” he laughed as we kept playing. 

i rested my head in my hand and stared at the pieces in thought. i moved another piece over the board before taking a quick sip of coffee. 

the park was nice today. there were a lot of people walking or sitting or playing chess like us. it was comfortable. i don’t know why i haven’t come here as much. 

spencer’s hair fell over his face when a light breeze blew through the park and i wanted to reach out and brush it out of his eyes. 

i don’t remember moving my arms to do so, but i leaned across the small table and did so anyway. spencer didn’t take his eyes off of mine, not while i was moving his hair with my fingertips on his skin, and not when his hand mirroring mine took the one in his hair in his own. he intertwined our fingers and i thought i was dreaming as he moved so our elbows were propping our joined hands over the board. 

he nonchalantly went back to the game, taking one of my pieces. “your move.” he squeezed my hand to snap me out of my trance the physical contact put me in. 

i nodded, pursing my lips. “right.” i felt like there was more attention on me and it made my focus dwindle. i still moved a piece that spencer took after a few moves, but he smoothed his thumb over the small extent of my hand he could touch. 

i smiled suddenly as i took a piece of his. “while i was leaving my building my neighbor asked me where i was going. when i told her i was seeing a friend she asked ‘the handsome tall one with brown hair’ and i thought that was such an accurate description of you.” i sipped more of my coffee. being outside had cooled it down significantly. 

spencer squeezed my hand that i was convinced he wasn’t ever going to let go. i met his eyes. “you think i’m…” he trailed off momentarily while he moved another piece. “tall?” he asked, that stupid but addicting smile slipped onto his lips. 

i scoffed, mouth open in an amused smile. “yes, yes i do.” i nodded with a laugh. “all 6’1 of you.” 

spencer’s eyes were so soft on mine. they were just full of adoration and endearment. i didn’t have a problem with getting lost in them. i’d get more lost just in his company every day. 

“you’re so beautiful…” his voice was so quiet i wouldn’t have caught what he’d said if i wasn’t looking at him. i read his lips in slow motion. 

“thank you.” 

we played the rest of the game in silence and secret glances. spencer won which didn’t surprise me. he told me i was good though, and that must mean i’m really good if its coming from him. 

spencer let go of my hand so that we could put the pieces away. my hand got cold immediately. i worked quickly to group the colors of pieces and slide them over to him. 

when we left the table, people immediately occupied it. i laughed slightly. 

“is there this many people here often?” i asked, my hand brushing his as we walked. 

he slowly interlaced our fingers again, being casual with it. “this isn’t the busiest it’s been.” he replied. i nodded, looking down at our joined hands. 

my feet stopped moving across the sidewalk and spencer stopped with me. “you okay?” 

i looked up at him, searching his eyes for what he must have searched mine for when he’d first kissed me. 

i wanted to kiss him. 

i can’t deny that anymore. 

so in the middle of the park in the afternoon i did just that. i stood on my toes and kissed him. my chest pressed against his and i swear i could feel his quickened heartbeat while our lips gently pressed together. 

spencer dropped my hand to cradle my face, meaning i couldn’t pull away so soon. and i was just fine with that. 

i slid my hand around his waist to his back. my palms pressed flat into him, making a soft hum pass from him to me. 

when we did pull away for breath, spencer whispered, “it’s not too early to love me.” his forehead pressed against mine. 

i smiled. “you heard me that night?”

“yeah.” he nodded subtly. “and i’ve played it over and over again in my head.” 

i smiled, tilting my head to kiss him once. “it sounds like you love me.” i ran my hands down his back. 

“i do.” he whispered. “i really do.” 

my head rested on his chest as i hugged him closer. his arms wrapped around me in an instant. “i’m sorry i made you wait for me.” i muttered. 

“i’d wait for you no matter what.” spencer replied, kissing the top of my head. 

i smiled in content, breathing in his scent that was like a muscle relaxant. everyone and everything around me and him just faded away. 

until both of us got a phone call. 

i frowned and dug into my pocket to answer the same time as spencer. 

“hello?” 

“hello my lovely, we have a case and need you here ASAP.” penelope’s cheerful voice filled my ear. i sighed and looked up at spencer as he gave me the same look. 

i nodded. “okay. we’ll start heading over.” 

“who’s ‘we’?” penelope asked. 

“me and spencer.” i replied, not really caring if she freaks out because it’s worth it for him. 

she squealed over the line. spencer had already hung up and was waiting for me. “that’s so adorable. okay, get here quick, hotch is looking at me impatiently.”

“okay. see you soon.” 

“bye!”

i shoved my phone back into my pocket. “there goes the weekend.” i took spencer’s hand as we walked to where his car was parked. 

“i’m glad we got to do this.” he told me. i smiled, running my thumb against his hand. 

“me too.” i agreed. 

spencer stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to kiss me once. i giggled with my eyes closed. “what was that for?” i wondered. 

“just to make sure this is real.” he replied. 

i stood on my toes to kiss him again. “it is.” 

he kissed me one more time, which resulted in some guy telling us to ‘get a room’ to which i started laughing, head leaned back. 

spencer started dragging me to his car with that, we were in the safety of it when he kissed me one last time. 

“the team is waiting.” i reminded him. 

his eyes went wide. “i forgot.” he chuckled softly. 

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

when we made it to the roundtable room morgan whistled at us. “about time.” 

i smiled awkwardly and sat down, spencer following right beside me. “sorry. my car wouldn’t start.” i lied. 

“ah yes, so you repaid pretty boy with a kiss?” 

i whipped my head towards spencer and noticed a mark from the tinted chapstick i was wearing on his lips. i discretely used my fingers to wipe away any color that escaped my lips. “that’s not from me that’s from… a random girl on the street.” i avoided everyone’s eyes while attempting not to smile. “she thought he was handsome.” 

the whole team exchanged a series of unconvinced looks. hotch was the first to speak. “start the brief garcia.” 

with that she got started, talking about the new case full of gruesome details that i only heard half of. i was too distracted by the way spencer grabbed my hand under the table and squeezed it to assure we were okay. 

the team definitely didn’t believe any of what i’d just said but it didn’t really matter. neither of us cared. 

it definitely wasn’t too early to love him.