#so instead i went the extra mile and just drew it. and made it from the AU cause that's what i've been doing lately.

[hoardlikegoldenirises]

Get it? 'Cause his name is—

*i am booed off stage*

[maddieautobot273]

Silk & Cologne (47)

A Miguel O'Hara x OC - link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 47: Slumber - previous chapter (X)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Female OC

Words: 4.1K + words

Warnings: Slight implied sexual content, intimacy, overall fluff and therapy/healthy communication

Summary: Miguel visits Lisa for the night.

/////////

Miguel’s P.O.V. 

Miguel had finished reviewing the mission reports as requested, only to find over a dozen errors in the multiverse monitoring software. It seemed Gabriel had implemented a software update and didn’t tell him about it. Or Miguel was so swamped with the incoming stream of messages from other Spiders that he must have missed it in the flood and didn’t go back to read it even after silently reminding himself to do so. 

Nonetheless, it was enough to get under Miguel’s skin to the point he felt like he was near the verge of snapping. Hunched over, his back muscles tense and throbbing as he took deep breaths, trying to fight off the urge to punch or throw something if something went wrong in the next 10 seconds. No matter how efficiently he worked, something always came up. 

He didn’t want Lisa to see him so tense and agitated after he went the extra mile to initiate a date night. Miguel knew he had to calm himself down, telling himself that Lisa deserved better than how he was acting, so Miguel decided to quickly pop by the training center and work out the stress in his body. He ran laps around the center, followed by a series of pushups, situps, and a few rounds on the punching back for good measure. 

He had managed to get a few sets in, listening to Lisa’s playlist to help himself calm down as he took big, steady breaths as he lifted some weights to end his routine. He finished his last set, setting the weights down, his body covered in sweat as he wiped his head with a cool towel. Footsteps caught his ear, and he was praying that it wasn’t Peter B. with another security report. 

If he sets me off and I gotta do all of this again–! 

“Don’t you need to be somewhere?” Jessica Drew spoke up. 

Prayers answered. 

Miguel glanced over, seeing Drew standing there. One hand on her hip, the other hand gently over her baby bump. But the look she gave Migue through her spider-shades made him question that perhaps he should prefer seeing Peter B. over her. 

“Lisa and I planned for 8. I got time,” He quickly reassured her, gently brushing her off as he grabbed his bag and began to walk away. 

“It’s almost 9, Miguel,” Drew stared at his backside, watching the second his muscles seized up and twitched at her words. 

Oh shock! 

“Thanks, Jess!” Miguel immediately runs off, not giving Jessica a chance to say anything else. 

He runs off to his private room, quickly showering to wash the sweat and gym smell off of him.  Once cleaned, he changed into some casual clothes whilst combing through his messages, finding Gabriel’s contact. Instead of wine, he recommended a champagne bottle, something light, but simple. 

He went for his wine cabinet, finding the champagne bottle. He quickly huffed some breath onto his palm, smelling it. Seemed fine, but he popped a breath mint just in case. 

Miguel typed in the coordinates for Lisa’s dimension, locking on to her apartment on his gizmo. Simultaneously, he opened up a separate chat box window, quickly typing up a message. The chat was labeled, ‘Team Louvre’. 

“At ease for the night team. I can take it from here,” - Miguel 

Miguel didn’t wait for a response before a portal opened before him. Sucking in one more quick breath, he steeled his nerves and jumped through the portal. Traveling through the interdimensional tunnel, he emerged at the otherside, arriving in Lisa’s apartment. 

But something was different. Not quite off, but different. Most of the lights were off or dimmed to a low setting as his sensitive eyes adjusted to the lowly dark room. The blankets Lisa usually kept on the couch had been moved to her bed, the curtain pulled back. There was a scented candle on the coffee table in the living room area, it smelled like. . . lavender? 

Footsteps caught Miguel’s attention as a female figure emerged from the kitchen. Lisa stepped towards him, arms crossed over her chest, wearing comfy sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt. She looked so cute and Miguel wanted nothing more than to hug her tightly and apologize profusely, but he held himself back.

Miguel tried to get a read on her, analyzing the look on her face. A neutral expression, lips in a thin line. She raised a brow towards him. 

Here we go. . . 

“Held up at work?” She asked him, her head tilting slightly to the side. 

Miguel didn’t detect any sign of hurt or tiredness in her voice. A tiny part of him felt relieved, but that was what scared him the most. Sure there could be slip ups here and there when couples first start dating, but this felt like a fumble if anything. 

“Mi Mona Lisa, I’m so sorry I’m late,” He apologized, his gaze pouring into hers. 

“What happened?” Lisa asked him with a calm expression, her arms lowering to her sides. 

“I finished reading the reports, but there were errors in the monitoring system I had to fix that I wasn’t made aware of,” Miguel sighed deeply, doing his best to keep his frustration in check. “By the time I fixed everything, I was tense and agitated I– I didn’t want all that seeping on to you so I went to work out and get it out of my system,”

“As you were doing that, you lost track of time?” She asked him for clarification. 

He nodded softly, relief coursing through him that she had spoken his explanation in much more simple terms. “Yes,”

Please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad. . . 

Lisa seemed to stare at him, evaluating him for what felt like unbearable seconds. Until she finally spoke, her voice soft, “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t getting any sleep?”

Miguel froze, his eyes widening. She wasn’t mad? She wasn’t going to yell or scream at him?

You are in so much trouble young man! Faintly fluttered through his mind. His mothers voice. 

He shuddered briefly at the memory. “You’re not mad. . .?” Miguel’s voice muttered, wandering off. 

“Miguel?” Lisa called out to him, snapping him back to reality. 

His gaze fell upon her sulk expression and his heart nearly shattered. “Lisa, I’m sorry, I know it sounds like an excuse, but I– I didn’t want you to worry,”

Lisa sighed, shaking her head, “Miguel, as I keep gently reminding you,” She steered her gaze back to him, a calm expression on her face. “You can talk to me, you know that,”

“I do know that, I swear,” Miguel insisted heavily, inching a step closer as his grip on the champagne bottle tightened at his side. 

“Then why didn’t you tell me back when I was visiting you in the lab today?” She asked him. “Or the day before?”

Miguel managed several deep, calming breaths to keep his emotions in check. His mind was spiraling. Lisa wasn’t blowing up on him. Not like her, but she was talking to him. 

“You can’t keep hiding things like this, Miguel,” She spoke gently. 

Just like Xina did. . . 

////////

Earth-928 - Nueva York - Babylon Towers - 5 years ago 

Miguel arrived home later than normal that night. After working a long shift at Alchemax, he had stopped by the psych ward to visit his mother, Conchata, with his little brother, Gabriel. As always, Gabriel was the sunshine son that could do no wrong, but Miguel. . .

Well, it was better to not repeat those things. All the words and insults she said, once was enough in Miguel’s mind. But he always came back, for Gabriel’s sake. 

Miguel was tired, exhausted even. He let out a deep sigh as he shut the door behind him. Xina had to be long asleep by now, and didn’t want to risk waking her, or the baby. 

Soft whimpering caught his ear, as Miguel glanced over, peering into the dark living room to see a baby crib, tiny hands beginning to fidget. His lips curled into a soft smile as he set aside his house key card, taking long, quiet steps towards the crib. He peered down at the little body, its bottom half swaddled in a blanket. 

Little baby Gabriela. 

“Hey, sssshh, it’s okay, mija,” Miguel’s voice was a soft whisper as he carefully picked her up in his large, warm, protective hands, “It’s only papa,” - darling

He cuddled her close to his chest, calming her down as he rubbed his hands up and down her small back, humming affectionately. It took a few minutes, but eventually Gabriela stopped whimpering, making soft little noises as her tiny eyes peered up towards Miguel. Miguel smiled softly at her, gently rocking her. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered gently, “Go back to sleep. Wouldn’t want to wake up mama now, would we?”

As if on command, her little eyes started to droop down, her little body snuggling in her blanket as Miguel carefully adjusted it for her. He set her back down in the crib gently, brushing a large finger along her head. Miguel swore he would have melted in a puddle right there and then. 

If not for the sound of footsteps coming from the master bedroom of the penthouse apartment. “I was worried something had happened,”

Miguel’s heart stopped as he turned, taking in the form of the Cantonese woman wearing PJ’s with a silk robe overtop. Her long, silky black hair draped past her shoulders. No matter the time of day, Xina Kwan-O’Hara always looked so angelic to him. 

“Mi amor. . .” Miguel greeted her softly. - my love 

Xina offered Miguel a soft nod, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she walked closer towards him. A hand snaked up his back in a loving manner as the both of them turned to glance down at Gabriela who had fallen back asleep. “Did something happen at work?” She asked. 

“No, everything was fine, just the usual, fixing everybody’s mess,” Miguel answered softly, keeping his gaze locked to the baby. “I was just. . . out with Gabriel tonight. I meant to message you about it, but. . . time got away from me,”

“. . . You two were visiting your mother tonight?” Xina asked him, her hand brushing up to his shoulder. “How is she?”

“Yes, she’s. . . the same as she always is,” Miguel nodded. 

Xina hesitated briefly, before her fingers curled over against the fabric of Miguel’s jacket. “You haven’t told Gabriel yet. . . that you want to take a break from seeing her?”

A wave of shame coursed through Miguel as he curled his fingers into a fist at his side, steering his gaze away from his daughter. His eyes briefly met Xina’s before lowering them to look at the floor. “No. . .”

Xina sighed quietly, muttering a prayer in her native tongue as her hand snaked down his arm, engulfing her fingers around his. “You can’t keep hiding things like this, Miguel,” She spoke gently.

Her voice was calm, but direct. A little blunt. But that’s how Xina was. 

Most days Miguel felt that Xina was his rock, his very conscience if he dared to go so far. It was enough to make Miguel steer his face from the floor to look at her square in the face. Xina was so smart, confident that he hated the idea of making her worry about him. 

“I know, Xina. . .” Miguel’s gaze softened as he gently pulled Xina closer to him, their bodies brushing against one another. 

“We’ve talked about this,” Xina insisted, “You need to talk to Gabriel about setting boundaries for the two of you. I know your protective big brother instincts always kick in when its the three of you,” 

“It’s just. . . she is the light of his world as much as he is hers,” Miguel sighed. “I. . . don’t want to ruin that for him, because a part of me never got that from her,”

“You may not have gotten it from her, and honestly, she’s an adult, she was the parent, she chose to be this way and that’s on her,” Xina\s voice was calm, but her expression stern as she lifted a hand to cup Miguel’s cheek. “But you found that light elsewhere, here, with her,”

She steered her gaze down towards Gabriela’s sleeping form and Miguel smiled. He didn’t remember smiling this much growing up. He loved this feeling, and would fight tooth and nail to keep it. 

“Talk to Gabriel,” Xina instructed with loving authority. “He’s smarter than you let on about what’s been going on between the two of you, and I know you’re smarter than to keep this bottled up. He’ll understand. He’s your brother,”

Miguel took a long deep breath, taking it all in. The place he was standing in, the words that fluttered from Xina’s mouth. When he exhaled, he felt this weight lift from his shoulders and suddenly didn’t feel so stiff anymore. 

“Alright,” he nodded softly. 

“Yes?” Xina raised a brow at the man. 

“I’ll talk to him in the morning,” Miguel went on. 

“Good,” Xina patted him on the cheek before glancing down at Gabriela. “Kiss your daughter goodnight and come get ready for bed,”

“Yes ma’am,” Miguel chuckled with a faint smirk as he brought a hand up to cup XIna’s chin, offering her a soft, loving kiss on the lips. “Remind me again why she can’t still sleep with us?”

“She needs her own space, Miguel,” Xina smirked up at him. “But she knows papa isn’t too far away if she needs him,”

Xina smiled at Miguel’s romantic gesture before walking off back to their shared bedroom. Miguel watched her leave before glancing back down into the crib, snagging one last look at his baby daughter. He carefully lowered his upper body down into the crib, his lips brushing gently on her forehead. 

“Dulces sueños pequeña,” Miguel whispered softly, his voice warm like another blanket being tucked around her. - Sweet dreams little one 

Miguel walked off into their room, immediately pulling his shirt off. He was about to make his way over to the dresser when Xina beckoned him over. “Come’ere,”

“What?” Miguel smirked over at her sitting on the bed with a curious glint in his eyes. 

“It’s not about that, Miguel,” Xina rolled her eyes at the man as he sat at the edge of the bed. “You’re not going to bed when you’re still clearly feeling tense,”

Miguel immediately clued into what Xina was talking about as he turned her back towards her, reaching down to pull off his socks from his feet. “Give me a second to–” But the sentence halted from his lips as she felt Xina’s delicate hands begin to massage his shoulders. 

The soft groan of relaxation that left him was everything Xina could have hoped for. “Now how do you feel?”

The corner of Miguel’s mouth curled into a smile, “A little to the left?”

Xina followed his request as she shifted her hands over as she slowly worked down his back and another sigh of relaxed pleasure fluttered from his throat. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” He asked her, turning his head towards her. 

“Everything and more,” Xina smiled before pressing one more kiss to his lips. “I’ll be here to help you, you know that. Just promise me you’ll put in the effort to take care of yourself, Miguel?”

“. . . I promise,” 

///////

Earth-12128 - New York City - Lisa’s Apartment - Present Day

“Miguel?” Lisa’s voice brought Miguel back to the present as she gently took the champagne bottle from his hand. “We’re partners, right?”

“Yes?” he nodded softly. 

“As partners, we should look out for each other’s well-being, right?” She went on, smiling softly at him. 

“Right . . .?” Miguel answered again, yet more slowly as he drew out the word. 

Where is she going with this? 

“You’ve constantly looked out for me, so, let me do the same for you,” Lisa stated. “You made a promise to me that you’d take better care of yourself, and in turn, I promised I’d make sure that you do just that,”

Miguel’s fingers seemed to twitch as he mustered all the strength he had to not tackle Lisa in a bear crushing hug and kiss her silly. 

What did I do to deserve her? 

“So, change of plans for tonight,” Lisa spoke up as she set the champagne bottle aside, setting it on the kitchen counter. “When was the last time you got a full night's sleep?”

Miguel’s heart began to flutter in his chest, his palms sweating as his eyes glancing around at nothing in particular. “Uh. . . Does it matter?”

“How many, Miguel?” She asked him. 

“. . . 2 days,” He answered after a brief hesitation. 

“And in those two days you haven’t gotten any sort of rest?” Lisa pressed on gently. 

Miguel shook his head, sulking like a child that was about to get reprimanded by their mother. 

Lisa nodded softly, glancing down at the floor, “Alright then,” She returned her gaze to him as Lisa dared one step closer towards him, then slowly another, “So, Miguel, I know you’re a very smart man. What happens when our human bodies don’t get enough sleep?”

Miguel processed the question, the gears of his mind turning with the strength and energy he had left in the day. “Are you genuinely asking or are you quoting Big Bang Theory?”

“Both,” Lisa managed a soft grin before it loosened, “Now answer the question, smart boy,”

Miguel couldn’t stop his cheeks from flushing at the comment, his mind scrambling. “They. . . lose their sensitivity to serotonin and norepinephrine, receiving less signals from the brain,”

“Which then leads to?” Lisa dared another step closer.

“Impaired cognitive function?” Miguel’s cheeks started to burn. 

“That’s exactly right,” Lisa nodded, her head motioning towards the bathroom door. “So, instead of a movie, I’ll hold onto the champagne for another night. You’re going to be a big man, march over there and brush your teeth, and go to bed and spend the night here,”

Wait. . . she’s not mad? She doesn’t sound like she’s mad, does she?

Miguel had a frazzled look on his face, daring to scoff even as he raised a brow at the lady before him. “Seriously?”

“I had the sheets cleaned, pillows fluffed, extra blankets in case you get cold, and scented candles to help soothe the senses,” Lisa smirked, feeling accomplished with her tasks. “I just hope the candle smell isn’t too sensitive,”

There was a playful glint in her eyes as she suddenly smirked up at him. First Miguel was surprised. Now he was scared. 

“You didn’t have to do all this,” As reluctant as he was, Miguel couldn’t help but smile at what Lisa had done. She had done all of this for him. “Can’t we stay up just a little longer?”

“I’m going to count to 3,” She taunted. 

Miguel’s mouth gaped open, his jaw nearly dropping to the floor. “You wouldn’t dare–!”

“Try me,” Lisa grinned. The pair locked eyes, provoking a staring contest as they both waited to see who would crack first.  “. . . 1–”

“You are not–” Miguel gawked at the woman. 

“2–?” Lisa raised her voice an octave as the look in her eyes told him that she wasn’t playing around. 

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” He surrendered, his head and hands shaking with a surprised laughter as he sauntered into the bathroom. 

“Your spare toothbrush is in the cabinet,” There was a hint of a grin on Lisa’s voice as her voice fluttered over the sound of Miguel shutting the door behind him. 

Miguel found everything he needed, brushing his teeth and quickly rinsing off his face. Flicking his finger across the touch screen of his gizmo, his clothes changed into a comfy t-shirt and sweatpants before he stepped out of the bathroom and walked over towards the bedroom. Lisa was already sitting on her side, gently patting her hand on the mattress for him to join her. 

“Come on,” She beckoned him. 

“I don’t need to be told twice,” He teased, grinning at her as he carefully crawled across to the other end, plopping down on his back. 

Lisa pulled back the covers for him as Miguel adjusted himself, tucking his lower body under the sheets. Everything felt warm, and silky smooth. His pillow smelt clean, feeling cool against his skin. It was only then he realized how tired he truly was. 

He contemplated passing out right there and then, but he willed his eyes to stay open. He wanted to see Lisa, talk to her, just be with her. Miguel reached a hand out, his large fingers brushing against her cheek as she reached up and held his hand with her delicate fingers. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” His voice was quiet, soft, and low as he cupped her cheek. 

“Everything. . . and more, Miguel,” Lisa smiled softly at him. 

He smiled softly back at her. Lisa’s body shifted, and at first Miguel thought that she was settling in beside him so they’d both get some sleep. But she scooted over and suddenly straddled in his lap, Miguel’s eyes went wide, his cheeks turning pink. “Lisa, what are you doing?”

“I’m making sure you actually go to sleep and stay that way,” She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to appear authoritative and intimidating as she narrowed her gaze down towards him. “That means no getting up in the middle of the night to sneak in more work, or calls. Just sleep,”

“You’re going to stay there until I do?” he asked her with a curious look in his eyes. “Like, watch me sleep?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Lisa stated. 

The pair seemed to be stuck in an intimidating staring contest for what felt like long minutes. The curious glint stayed in Miguel’s gaze as his smirk slowly grew. He wanted to test Lisa’s claim for himself. 

“Miguel. . .” Lisa’s voice gives off an audible warning drawl.

Miguel tries to sit up, but is stopped short when Lisa quickly stretches her arms out. Her hands grip his shoulders and push him back down. Miguel was genuinely caught by surprise by her strength as she pins him back down to the mattress, the back of Miguel’s head falling into place on the pillow. 

“Miguel O’Hara!” Her lips flickered into a grin, staring down at him as she called him out for his attempted defiance. 

Her long brown hair dangles on the side of her face, and try as he might, Miguel couldn’t hold himself back as his gaze began to linger down. He loved Lisa’s face, her sweet, almost innocent looking gaze, her soft expressions and loving smile. But Miguel would be lying to himself if his mind wasn’t screaming at him to, at least once, admire and appreciate Lisa’s body. 

Elegant curves, a strong form, he couldn’t be more proud of her and the progress she had made since joining the Spider Society. In Miguel’s eyes, Lisa was beautiful inside and out. When his gaze retracted back to her own, and he saw the realization in her eyes of what he had done, there was. .  hesitancy, doubt even as her cheeks flushed, and her grip on his shoulders loosened. 

Was there a part of her that didn’t believe what Miguel saw in her?

Miguel’s expression faltered for a split second. Right now was probably not the correct time to discuss something like that. Tonight was about taking care of him and his health, Lisa had made that very clear. 

“Fine, I’ll get some rest,” Miguel sighed deeply, his body relaxing into the mattress as Lisa’s hands snaked away from his shoulders, across his chest. 

“Good,” Lisa nodded her head. 

Miguel’s smirk was playful as his arm hooked around her back and gently pulled her down. Lisa landed with a soft ‘PLOP’ along Miguel’s chest, her head tucked under his. “Especially now that I have my favourite body pillow,”

His low rumbling laughter caused Lisa’s cheeks to burn as his hand gently stroked along her back. If Miguel was going down, he was taking Lisa down with him. Two could play at this game. 

“Miguel O’Hara, go to sleep!” She ordered, hiding her face in the fabric of his nearly skin tight shirt. 

“Yes, mi Mona Lisa,” Miguel’s voice drawled as his laughter quieted down. 

Miguel reached over with his free hand, grabbing a spare blanket and pulling it over Lisa. He made sure she was snuggly and warm before he kissed the top of her head, holding her close. Slumber took hold of him minutes later and when he breathed in deeply and snored for the first time, Lisa truly relaxed, nuzzling against him completely as sleep overcame her as well. 

//////////

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[subspencer]

the to-do list

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is worried that she’s not adventurous enough in bed. So, she makes a secret checklist of things to try with Spencer. Based on this request.

Category: Smut, 18+ ONLY, minors dni

Warnings/Includes: switch!Spencer, (sort of?) corruption kink, exhibitionism, mile high club, brief description of oral, unprotected sex, creampie, brief mentions of other stuff but no descriptions

Word Count: 3k

Spencer’s girlfriend has a secret checklist. It could be called a bucket list, of some sort, but really all of the items on it pertain to sexual acts to perform with Spencer, on Spencer, or in front of Spencer. So checklist is a more appropriate term.

The list came into existence after a girl’s night game of Never Have I Ever, in which she discovered there was an embarrassing number of things she’d never done. Some of them seemed nearly impossible to have gone twenty-something years without doing, especially when in a committed relationship. That was made abundantly clear to her when the girls pointed it out, teasing her — and by association, Spencer — for being more than vanilla.

There was no real reason she hadn’t tried those certain things — she wasn’t adverse to the idea of most of them at all. Really, it was just that she never bothered to dip her toes beyond what was familiar.

When Emily, Penelope, and Tara had nearly all ten of their fingers down after a couple rounds, she finally realized she might’ve been coming up short in the sex department. She figured it was about time to find out what she’s missing, so she made a list of everything she needed to try. And one by one, she and Spencer checked the items off.

One of the more simple things on the list, and perhaps her favorite, was giving her first blowjob. It wasn’t something she felt compelled to try with any of the guys she’s been with before, and Spencer, though he was very curious about it, was too much of a gentleman to ask for one.

So when she asked him to sit on the edge of his bed and dropped to her knees in front of him, he didn’t stop to ask questions. His mind went blank the second her fingers undid his zipper. It was Spencer’s first, too, and his fingers knotted in her hair as she took him in as deep as she could, hollowing her cheeks around his cock and swirling her tongue as her head bobbed up and down. Spencer always made pretty sounds in bed, but in this instance she envied his memory because she wished she could replay his moans and gasps from that first blowjob all over again in her mind.

Another favorite was allowing the favor to be reciprocated until completion. She figured she might just be someone who couldn’t get off from oral, because though she always welcomed Spencer to go down, she got impatient every time and pulled his head up by his hair, demanding him to fuck her already. Spencer was one to oblige every request, but he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t overjoyed when one time she never stopped him short.

There were no interruptions, no hands shoving his face away from its rightful place against her, just increasing moans and shaking legs as Spencer was encouraged to give more. She can still remember the half-moon shapes his nails left on her thighs from where he had to grip them so tightly as she rode out her high. And she definitely remembers the almost feral look in his eyes after, because since that first time he insists on doing it again nearly every day.

There were more or less a dozen other items that slowly but surely got ticked off the list.

Handcuffs in the bedroom — fun, but perhaps better saved for special occasions. Or if Spencer was being extra good and deserved a treat.

Various new positions — a reminder to stretch more. And that sixty-nine is not as easy as it sounds on paper.

She let Spencer put a blindfold on her — it was decided they both prefer it more when the blindfold is on him. It keeps him guessing.

Spanking — both of them like this one, either giving or receiving. Surprisingly, she thinks she might like receiving it a little more, and Spencer is always excited to give.

Shower sex — a bit of a logistical nightmare, yet still a weekly staple. It’s slippery, yes, but it’s also relaxing and intimate. And Spencer just enjoys putting his hands on her wet, soapy body.

Sending dirty texts — great, but Spencer prefers taking nude polaroids of her instead. He keeps a few in his wallet for easy access. And because he knows Garcia can’t hack his wallet and find them.

And there were more items that went in the same tune until there was just one left. The one she was most nervous to attempt.

She wondered if joining the mile high club was better or worse if it was on the BAU jet. They’d have ample opportunities to do it, but they’d also be surrounded by their colleagues, and there is no coming back from getting caught.

But the main challenge was convincing Spencer to do it in the first place.

The initial plan of attack was to drop some “subtle” hints. She brought it up for the first time one night in their shared hotel room, right after Spencer fucked her against the bathroom counter, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“We could totally do that in the jet bathroom.”

“Yeah, I guess the basics are the same. Cramped space and a ledge to lean on.” Spencer was completely aloof as he picked up the scattered articles of clothing from the floor, rattling off about the size and dimensions of the airplane bathroom and missing the entire point of the comment.

She mentioned it again a little later, hoping the repetition may help him catch the drift.

“What’s the craziest place you’ve had sex?” she asked, completely catching him off guard as he ate a breakfast of frosted flakes in his kitchen.

“Um.. I don’t know? You tell me,” he shrugged, knowing that whatever the craziest place was, it was definitely with her.

“What about doing it on the jet?” It couldn’t get more obvious.

“We haven’t done that, silly. OH! I’m gonna say it was in my car,” he nodded with a wide grin, confident in his answer that unfortunately brushed past the proposition far too quickly.

It was time to change methods.

The new plan was to see if she could get him turned on enough on the jet to motivate him to do something about it right then and there. It seemed easy enough.

She sat next to him on the small couch, as she always did, and cuddled up to his side as he read his book.

Once everyone was distracted, she snaked a hand onto his thigh, allowing it to rest there long enough for Spencer to get over his initial shock and relax into her touch. As soon as he let his guard down, she moved her hand up another inch or two, watching him squirm again as he fought his mind from wandering. She repeated that cycle every five minutes until it drove him insane, his willpower diminishing in tandem with the proximity of her hand.

When everyone finally fell asleep, she craned her head to press small kisses on his neck, alternating between quick pecks and lingering ones, sucking warm and wet little flecks onto his skin that drew soft sighs without fail.

“What are you doing?” his breath was raspy and low as he muttered into her ear.

“Nothing.” She kept her tone innocent and sweet as she continued to sprinkle the teasing kisses across the column of his throat.

Her hand finally found its way directly on top of the bulge straining against his slacks and gave it a gentle squeeze. Spencer grinded himself into her palm, desperate to feel some friction, his jaw slacked and pupils wide. She dragged a thumb across his length, stopping to rub slow circles over the sensitive tip, drawing out a wet spot at the front of his trousers.

But even with his skin flushed red and his cock leaking and half-near orgasm, Spencer still found the restraint to stop her from jerking him off right on the jet and ripped her hand away, placing it in her lap as if the action could permanently force her to keep her hands to herself.

“I can’t go to the crime scene with cum in my pants,” he hissed, squeezing her wrist tighter.

She smirked at the opportunity, wrapping her warm lips around his ear lobe and tugging with her teeth before whispering with hot breath. “Then put it in me.”

For a second she saw him consider it. His eyes had a dark cast, gaze flickering between her eyes and lips as he swallowed the thick lump in his throat. But then Emily woke up and it was yet another failed attempt.

She resigned to the fact that it just wouldn’t happen, and that the item might remain unchecked on the secret list. So she cleared the idea from her mind, not wanting to keep pushing Spencer toward something he clearly didn’t have an interest in, or to keep embarrassing herself by trying.

And then a couple weeks later, as the team wrapped another case up, she came back to their hotel room to find Spencer sitting on the bed, facing away from the door.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted. When Spencer didn’t respond, she crawled onto the bed behind him, placing both hands on his shoulders and attacking the side of his face with kisses, giggling into his messy curls. “I said hey.”

Still nothing. Her eyes followed his line of sight down to his hands and went wide with realization.

“Spencer, where did you get that!?” She tried to snatch the crumpled piece of paper from him, but he was too quick to pull it away.

“I was looking for gum in your purse,” he explained, reading the sheet over again in complete amusement, “but I found something better.”

Spencer was much too excited about it, bordering on smug, and she rolled off the bed away from him in annoyance.

“Is this what I think it is?” She remained silent, suddenly feeling very insecure about the note. “Did you... did you make a list of things to do in bed?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that, it’s so stupid.”

“Hey, who said it’s stupid?” He tugged on her fingers, pulling her back onto the bed next to him. “I just wanna know where it came from.”

“Well... when I went out with the girls, we started talking about all the things we’ve done…” she paused to see if Spencer could guess where this was going, and of course he didn’t, “... in bed. And I hadn’t even done half of what they have, so I wrote some of them down. I — I wanted to try them with you.”

“So you… you’ve never done these with anyone else?” Spencer’s eyes widened as he pieced the puzzle together. He looked down again at the discarded sheet laying on pillows, his pride swelling at how long the list was. “I’m the first?”

She nodded in assent and no sooner was Spencer pushing her back flat against the mattress, settling his body on top of hers.

“God, that’s so hot,” he spoke into her neck as he sucked purple bruises into it, allowing his hands to roam freely under her shirt. His nimble fingers made quick work of her bra clasp, pulling the hem of the top up to attach his lips to her exposed nipple. He rolled the other in his fingers, tugging gently as she arched into his touch, rolling her hips up to grind against his. He groaned and pushed back, nestling himself perfectly between her legs.

Suddenly his motions halted and he popped his head up, looking at her with wide eyes and freshly ruffled hair. “We haven’t finished the list yet!”

“I — I didn’t think you were interested in the last one.”

“If my girlfriend makes a list of ways she wants to fuck me, I’m interested.”

A devilish grin took over her face. “Well, we fly home tomorrow.”

And true to the plan, they arrived on the jet the next day with at least a vague sense of strategy: wait until everyone is asleep then go at it in the bathroom. It wasn’t the most elaborate of plans, but there wasn’t much else to think of.

Except for the possibility that the others might not go to sleep.

The flight was already halfway through its journey and everyone was still wide awake, and Spencer was growing incredibly impatient. Perhaps even more than his girlfriend, now that he knew this would be part of a long list of things he got to be her first for.

That fact seemed to encourage him, the thrill of forever being her first at something. Never mind that she’d be his firsts, too.

Spencer’s not stupid, he knows that bending her over the bathroom counter while everyone is awake to hear it is a horrible idea. But his willpower doesn’t extend far enough to stop him from dropping his hand to her exposed knee, rubbing it softly just to be able to touch her. It seemed innocent enough in case anyone might see.

He kept his eyes on the open book he was pretending to read as his fingers traced the inside of her thigh, pushing up the hem of her skirt ever so slightly.

He inched his hand up and slowly spread his long fingers apart until they covered the length of her inner thigh. The tips stopping just below her cunt, delicately tracing lines back and forth parallel to the seam of her underwear.

And she quickly discovers there’s no taste worse than your own medicine. There was gentle brushes and concealed touches, all the things that she did to him. But where Spencer would’ve stopped her teasing before it got too far, she wouldn’t have done the same.

She covered up his hands by bringing her own down to her lap, silently encouraging him to continue unseen.

Spencer looked down at her through his thick lashes, bottom lip stuck between his teeth. Looking for more confirmation that she wanted this. The answer came in the form of her shifting subtly down the seat, pressing her clothed pussy firmly against his hand.

His cock twitched against the confines of his slacks when he felt the damp patch on the fabric. His knuckles brushed against her clit and her knees clamped shut, holding him in place as she brought her lips close to his ear to let him hear her soft whines.

He has to put his book over his lap to cover how hard he is, and it almost makes him regret starting this game. Almost.

Because just as she starts desperately grinding against his hand, squirming for more friction, he notices that everyone’s asleep. And then it’s a race to the bathroom, Spencer positioning her directly in front of him to cover his bulge as they stand up.

Their mouths are on each other before the door even closes, her hands wasting little time in going for his zipper. Both desperate to have each other after all the anticipation. She immediately perched herself on the countertop, spreading her legs wide so Spencer could fit in between them, just like in that hotel room. A confused whine fell from her mouth when he lifted her off from the ledge, interrupting her plan.

“No. Like this,” he growled, turning her around and pushing her hips against the edge of the counter, bending her over it. She muttered a “Fuck,” under her breath as he pressed his cock against her backside, knowing he preferred this angle because he could get deeper.

His lips trailed down her neck as he tugged the skirt up to her hips and pulled her panties to the side, running his cock along her folds to gather the wetness that had been pooling there.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet.”

He quickly inserted his thumb into her mouth to stop any sounds from escaping before lining himself up. Her moans vibrated against the digit as he slowly pushed in, stretching her out and letting her adjust before starting to move. Slowly and deliberately, at first, then quickly gaining speed.

She pushed her hips back to meet his thrusts until he pinned them against the ledge with his own, holding them still so he could set his pace faster.

The hand that was resting on her waist came up to her chest, groping at the flesh over her blouse. Her spine arched into his palm, bending forward to give him more leverage to get deeper to that spot inside her repeatedly.

He alternated between a few quick thrusts followed by a deep one, holding himself there for a moment before repeating.

Her cunt tightened around him as he held still against her, applying firm pressure to her spot with the head of his cock.

“Fuck, do that again, please,” he grunted against her neck, pushing his hips into her ass with bruising force to get impossibly closer. A loud whine nearly escaped her lips as he did so, the motion sending her over the edge.

She sucked harder around his thumb, using it to keep her cries at bay as she reached her climax. Her walls fluttered around him as she did, giving him exactly what he needed.

“Remember what you said before, baby?” he hummed in her ear, “Do you still want me to cum inside you?”

“Please.”

Immediately his thrusts became erratic, hips snapping forward a handful of times before he spilled into her in hot spurts, biting down on her shoulder to stifle his moan as he came.

Still heaving from the comedown, he pulled her panties back on, using the fabric to keep his cum from spilling out.

She turned to feverishly attach her lips to his, panting into the open mouthed kiss. When they finally broke apart, both looked completely wrecked with swollen lips, flushed skin, bruised necks. Still, they tried their best to fix themselves, straightening out their rustled clothes and smoothing knotted hair.

Before Spencer turned the door handle, he pulled her side into him, pressing a kiss onto her forehead. “We should make another list.”

.

.

.

taglist: @suburban--gothic @ssa-sarahsunshine @mercy-burning @reidspurple @mediocre-writer @honeyboysteezy @ssa-m-187 @calm-and-doctor @drayshadow @s1utformgg @you-sunshine @altsvu @reidtheprettyboy @goose-eats-god @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @amoeebaa @reidingmelodies

[colinrobinsonn]

ahhh I never write fics but here’s nandor x guillermo after this week’s ep 🥺

- x -

Guillermo sat on the front steps of the house after driving back from dropping off the Baron, the Sire, and the hellhound at their new home in New Jersey. It had been a long, long night and he should really be heading to bed but he just needed a few moments of quiet.

The night air was sharp and the dark sky had only a few clouds overhead. Today had been successful, yes, but also very scary. He wasn’t thinking about facing the Sire, or the Baron again (although it had terrified him). No, he could not let go of the horrible feeling he’d been having all day that he may lose his entire family.

He heard the front door open quietly and he turned round to see Nandor coming out the door and walk towards him.

“Ah, Guillermo, there you are. What are you doing out here? It’s fucking freezing.”

“Just taking a minute.”

Nandor came and sat next to Guillermo on the same top step, looking out onto the street and then up at the sky as Guillermo was. It was quiet for a few moments between them, then Guillermo turned to Nandor, “Was there something you wanted, Master? You were looking for me?”

Nandor didn’t turn to look at him as he said, “Oh, nothing…”

“Okay…” Guillermo let the silence linger on.

“It’s just-“ Nandor began before he noticed Guillermo shiver. He was only wearing his shirt and waistcoat and the sun was, obviously and fortunately for Nandor, yet to come up. “You’re cold.”

Guillermo put his arms around himself, “Yeah, I guess it’s a little chilly.”

“Why don’t you go back inside?”

Guillermo shrugs, not being able to explain why he wants to be outside right now. Maybe he’s enjoying sitting here peacefully with Nandor under the night sky too much. Maybe he needs to clear his head. “But your fragile human body is going to freeze to ice. You don’t want to be made into an ice chip do you, Guillermo?”

“What? I’m not going to-“ he shakes his head, huffing quietly from Nandor’s ridiculousness, “I’m fine.”

Nandor stares at him, fangs bared, like he doesn’t believe him, like he really will turn into an ice chip in a few moments. “Eesh, fine. Here,” he says as he unclasps his black cape and drapes it delicately over Guillermo’s shoulders, and then quickly turns back to look at the sky.

Guillermo froze - not into an ice chip - but out of surprise, slight nervousness, and an uncertainty about how to react to Nandor’s… kindness. “Thank you, Nandor,” he went with, looking up at his strong profile.

“You are welcome, you will not freeze now and I will not have to defrost you and ruin my precious Persian rugs,” he replied matter-of-factly, nodding his head and putting his hands straight out on his knees.

Guillermo grabbed the cape and brought it round his body to wrap up in. The material was very warm and as he brought it up towards his chin he became very aware of being surrounded by Nandor’s very distinct and familiar scent: of oils and incense and musk, of history and comfort and home.

Nandor looked at his bodyguard and felt his dead heart constrict. The sight of Guillermo snuggled into his cape with a content smile on his face challenged Nandor. It challenged him to give in. To give in to feelings of softness towards Guillermo which he mostly did not allow himself to give into, and was always weary of whenever he was around him. Or saw him. Or thought about him. For Nandor, it was Him, for he had become everything. Everything he believed in, everything he fought for, and everything he smiled for. It is suffice to say, he did not win the challenge, but it felt good to lose.

“Guillermo-“, he took a quick breath in and held it, “I came to say that I am sorry for what happened today.”

“Huh? But we did it, we-“

“Just-“ Nandor put his hand up to tell Guillermo to let him finish.

“I am sorry for how you were treated today and if that hurt your feelings. I mean, it should hurt your feelings but I don’t know if you always let it.”

“Mas- Nandor, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Guillermo said. Nandor could literally be talking of about twenty different points today where his feelings could have been “hurt”.

“You know what I am talking about,” Nandor growled, impatient. He shot up off the steps and paced in front of Guillermo. Did he want to make him feel even more ashamed? He guessed he deserved it. He calmed his voice, “I am talking about the time when I allowed for you to be used as bait for the Sire.”

“Oh.” Guillermo breathed out, looking up at Nandor who had stopped his pacing now and was looking at Guillermo. There was a small silence, and then Guillermo also stood up and walked down the steps towards Nandor, cape still round him and falling far below onto the floor.

As he stood in front of Nandor, Nandor could not stand how adorable he looked wearing his cape, oversized on him. It made him feel… protective and proud.

Nandor was too caught up in his thoughts so Guillermo spoke first, “That’s my job, right? To protect you?”

“Yes, I suppose it is…” Nandor said quietly, unsure as Guillermo approached him further.

“But I would have done it anyway. I always would have.” It’s true, he went the extra mile whilst he was his familiar and even before he didn’t know of his bloodline.

Nandor did not know what to say to that. So instead he focused on how the cape was falling off of one of Guillermo’s shoulders. Without thinking, he raised his arm and pulled the material back up and around his shoulder.

He did this with such care and without agenda that it made Guillermo choke up slightly. He felt tingly all in his chest and willed himself to hold on. To not fall too far tonight, as he did so many nights, especially since Meg’s comments at Massive Fitness. As much as he was committed to Nandor, he could never let himself believe that Nandor felt the same.

The small act felt unnaturally natural for Nandor. When he fully comprehended what he was doing, he did not have the instinct to jump back and push Guillermo away, to tell him to get out of his way. Instead, the act made his next words come much easier.

“Guillermo… it should be my job to protect you. You came into my life, and it is a dangerous one. I have… taken too much from you, and you should not be willing for me to take your life.”

The double meaning was there. Yes, he was talking about what happened today, but Guillermo could not help but apply Nandor’s words to his own vampiric dream.

“No.” Guillermo could not, would not, keep going on like this. “It’s not that you have taken too much from me, Nandor,” he said with conviction, “it’s that you haven’t given me enough.”

“Guillermo…-“

“I’d die for you,” Guillermo said bluntly and laughed, “you know that? I would actually die for you. Not become undead, not become a vampire, I would die.”

Nandor looked away from him and took a step back, “Do not speak this way, Guillermo.”

“And I’m fine with that, I am,” he continued, “you’re not taking anything away from me, I’m giving it to you, because I want to. Because that’s how I feel.” Guillermo felt breathless from the outburst and he was slightly shaking, not just from nerves, but because the cape had unwound itself from his middle and only lay across his shoulders again. He shook his head slightly; tonight of all nights he was going to go there. “How do you feel, Nandor?”

“I-“ Nandor was stunned and his brain was working overtime to keep up with his little ex-familiar.

In all of his anxious tension, Nandor’s hesitance was too much. Guillermo huffed and span round to go back inside.

Nandor’s chest clenched and his heart fell, he couldn’t stand the sight of Guillermo walking away from him anymore. “Wait-“ he said as he grabbed Guillermo’s hand and gently pulled him back round to face him. The cape fell off his back.

Guillermo looked up at him, small tears in his eyes as he waited with little hope. His optimistic heart started again, however, when Nandor brought his hand up and drew his fingers through the front of Guillermo’s hair, sweeping it gently to the side and pushing small strands behind his ear. Guillermo’s heart was beating so hard he was sure Nandor could hear it, feel it even. His hand landed delicately on Guillermo’s cheek, like he was touching something precious, and he leaned in.

As their lips touched tears ran down Guillermo’s cheek which Nandor smoothly wiped away with the pads of his thumbs, as he brought his other hand to Guillermo’s other cheek. Guillermo was once again encased by Nandor, except this was the real thing and infinitely better. Guillermo’s hand found its way to Nandor’s neck, his fingertips pushing their way into his hair.

The kiss was gentle and undemanding; a shy but loving meeting with someone you have loved for years. Nandor pulled away but only slightly, so their foreheads rested against each other’s. Their eyes were both closed as they breathed unevenly with each other.

“Guillermo, I would die a thousand times over for you to have one more minute alive.”

Guillermo, teary, giggled dizzily and with relief at the vampire’s words and opened his eyes to find Nandor’s still closed.

“Hey,” Guillermo said as he leaned away and gently urged Nandor to open his eyes by putting his hand under his chin, “so… we’ll protect each other, right?”

Nandor had opened his eyes and was looking down at Guillermo who wore a bright, understanding smile on his face. His cheeks were quite pink and so Nandor leaned down to pick up the fallen cape and pull it back around the smaller man. He held on to Guillermo’s hand, brought it to his lips and kissed the top of it, where the knuckles lay. “Always.”

[pleasantanathema]

Santa Daddy | Jean Kirstein x Reader

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Reader

Rating: Explicit 

Warnings: Daddy kink, dirty talk, thigh riding, mutual pining, friends to lovers (or, rather, idiots to lovers), lots of holiday fluff

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This is my Secret Santa gift to @whats-her-quirk​ 🎄💕 June, thank you so much for being a wonderful friend; I was truly lucky and privileged to get you as my Elf for Secret Santa! I hope this fluffy (and dirty) little fic with our best boi Jean brings you some holiday cheer! 

           There were only a few things in the world that made you happier than watching Jean Kirstein smile. Like most of your friends, you’d met him through work, but there was always something so special, almost magical, about seeing his darling smile and hearing his boisterous laugh. And you rarely passed up on a chance to see delight spread across his handsome face, which is why you couldn’t say no when he asked you to join him on a get-a-away with your friends for the holidays.

           The inquiry came after you mentioned how you wouldn’t be able to make it home for the holidays due to a winter storm blowing in. It would be the second season in a row that the weather kept you from visiting home.

           You could still hear his voice in your head, “alone? For Christmas?”

           He’d then insisted you join him and his friends at Sasha’s family cabin. It was tradition for them, a gathering of misfits finding communion together out in the wilderness for a few days before the new year. You had taken trips with your friends before to amusement parks, festivals, even to the beach at Armin’s request, but something about being invited to an intimate setting to celebrate holiday traditions had you anxious.

           So, there you were, swaddled in blankets, listening to Eren bicker with Mikasa while Sasha and Connie bustled in the kitchen to make eggnog and treats. Armin had declined to join, citing that he’d seen too many horror movies about young adults alone in cabins to feel comfortable making the trip.

           And, true to form, Jean was running late. He was always late, his mind constantly moving a mile a minute unless he consigned himself to much needed rest and relaxation. Though, this time, you felt a little lonely while waiting for him on the couch, like there was a small part of you missing as you watched the snow fall outside.

           “So, none of you guys go home for the holidays?” You looked over toward the modest, plastic tree that Sasha had thrown down from her attic to bring a little holiday cheer to the living room, a few poorly wrapped presents and bags nestled under the branches.

           “Well,” Eren cleared his throat, “we are orphans.” He pulled at Mikasa’s scarf for emphasis.

           “Oh fuck, yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

           “Don’t worry about, he just always brings it up to get sympathy gifts.” Mikasa sighed, jerking the red cloth from his hands and scowling. Eren only laughed, brushing a stray hair from his face that had come loose from the bun at his nape.

           You sunk a little deeper into the cushions, eyes glancing out the window in hopes you’d see headlights flash in the driveway.

           “Do you think Jean’s okay? He should’ve been here a while ago and the storm is getting closer.”

           “Jean, Jean, Jean,” Sasha trotted into the room, balancing a mountain of sweet-smelling cookies on a plate, “you’re always worried about him.”

           “Someone should be, guy’s an idiot.” Eren chimed in, green eyes shining from the low flames rolling in the fireplace. He and Mikasa were sitting in the floor, a game of checkers spread out before them, with more stolen pieces resting near the cunning Ackerman’s side of the board.

           Eren wasn’t wrong, but over the years you’d known your group of friends, you’d noticed just how much the man in question had grown. In his early twenties, Jean had been quite the bumbling fool, having literally met you by bumping into your shoulder while leaving work, only to look at you and mumble “god you’re beautiful,” before issuing a quick apology as he rubbed at his neck sheepishly. You’d never mentioned the moment again, though your stomach still churned with a slight thrill every time you thought about it.

           But over the years he’d managed to turn that puerility into something much more charming. He was more refined, almost infuriatingly suave, easily gaining attention from anyone and everyone. And though you sometimes hated to admit it, he’d captured your thoughts as well.

           You kept your budding crush on Jean Kirstein close to your chest, not admitting it to any of your close friends. You always figured he was out of your league, seeing that he had a new, more beautiful girlfriend just about every other month. But, despite your simmering feelings, you still allowed yourself to get closer and closer to him over the years—some might say he’s your best friend, but you might call him your most treasured vexation.

           Another hour or so went by, your time spent nibbling at cookies and reminiscing with everyone about another year passed.

           Then the door finally opened, cold air gusting into the small living room as Jean stomped his damp boots on the entry mat.

           “Have you guys opened presents yet?”

           You glanced over the back of the couch, heart tugging in your chest as you noticed snow dusted in his long hair and a sizeable red and white polka dot package in his hands.

           “No because Christmas is tomorrow, or did you forget that too?” Connie said it with crumbs in his mouth, feet kicked up on the coffee table.

           Jean laughed, running a hand through his hair before wrapping the gift in his arms like it was something valuable.

           “I know, I know, and sorry I’m late, had something important to go get.” He smiled, bright and cheery, hazel eyes bouncing between his friends and the carefully guarded box, “I ask because…uh, this needs to be opened kind of soon.”

           “Is it perishable?” Sasha perked up, already ready to go make room in the fridge if something delectable was waiting as a gift.

           “I mean…you could say that? It may or may not be alive.” He was laughing, that kind of infectious laughter that had everyone in the room grinning whether they wanted to or not.

           Jean didn’t set the present down to even take off his shoes, instead tracking snow in with him and plopping onto the couch with flurries still on shoulders. He nudged your knee with his, pushing the present toward you. You pressed your lips together, hands getting sweaty as you pieced the puzzle together.

           “Is that…?”

           “Yeah,” his grin was pulling at his cheeks, eyes so sincere and happy and it almost startled you, “it’s for you.”

           The top of the box moved, the green bow popping on top of the polka dots.

           You moved the gift into your lap, pulling off the top to find perky ears and green eyes peering up at you—a kitten, grey and striped, with long, white whiskers and a pink bow around its neck greeted you with muted curiosity. You just stared at it for a moment, and it stared back, like you were both wondering just how it got into your lap.

           “I just,” Jean was getting nervous, carding his fingers through his hair again as he waited for your reaction, “I wanted to make sure you’d never spend another holiday alone, you know?”

           You carefully picked up the little cat, watching how it stretched and yawned as you pulled it from the carefully lain blanket inside its temporary home.

           You smiled, pulling the warm little bundle to your chest.

           “Um, Jean, this cat has six toes on her paws,” you said, pressing your thumb gently against one of the extra appendages in question.

           “Six toes?!” Sasha was jumping up from her seat, bounding over to kneel in front of you and pluck one of the kitten’s paws into her fingers. The cat quickly pulled its paw back, little black toe beans curling to its chest.

           “Yeah, it’s what drew me to her. She’s extra special…” you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter something under his breath, a little musing of “just like you,” but any hushed murmur was overshadowed by the ohs and ahs of your friends gathering around to look at the adorable little creature.

           The kitten had been lulled to sleep by the car ride from the shelter to the cabin, content to just curl up in your arms as inquisitive fingers prodded at her little kitten mittens and the silky, white tufts in her ears. Even Mikasa was enraptured by the tiny animal, taking the time to retie the little pink ribbon around her neck to make a bigger, prettier bow.

           You noticed how your friends were whispering, cheeky grins pressed against eager ears as they looked between you, the precious kitten, and Jean on the couch. You were starting to feel like you were missing something, or maybe that you were at the end of a joke you hadn’t caught on to yet.

           “Thank you,” you whispered to Jean after the fuss died down, everyone returning to their seats and back to their previous fixations.

          You’d mentioned perhaps wanting a cat a few weeks ago; it was just a silly, off-hand comment you made over coffee about how you’d once read that people with cats live longer because they pick up on the nine-lives of their feline partner. You didn’t believe it to be true, but you’d mused about the idea of having a cute kitten of your own to snuggle up with on lonely nights.

           “I know it’s sudden and a lot of responsibility, so if you don’t want her—”

           “No,” you cut Jean off, bundling the kitten a little closer in your arms, your heart singing as you felt her start to purr, “no, I want her, she’s perfect.”

           Jean finally started to get settled himself, standing up and shrugging off his jacket. He was in a tight turtleneck, coal black threads stretched to their limit across his broad chest and shoulders, hugging his trim waist. You were careful not to stare for too long as he stretched his arms above his head to shake off the weariness of his drive through the snow.

           He always looked like he stepped out of a fashion catalogue, fresh and so put together that sometimes you were tempted to snap his photo when he wasn’t looking; he just looked that good all the time. He loved to wear designer clothes and keep up with the latest menswear trends, and tonight was no different, that beautiful black turtleneck (that was covered in grey fur) undoubtedly belonging to a designer whose name you probably couldn’t pronounce.

           “What are you gonna name her?”

           He sat a little closer this time on the couch, a brawny arm outstretched behind you as he leaned over to scratch at the kitten’s chin.

           “I don’t know,” you admitted, gazing down at the serene, sleepy face in your arms, “I’ll have to get to know her first.”

           “Well, I’ve been calling her Frankie.”

           “Frankie?” You smiled through your confusion, the name sounding oddly right.

           “She was pretty wild in the car and kept meowing when Frank Sinatra was on the radio.”

           “I see,” you laid the kitten down into your lap, sweeping your fingers through her fur and watching as she curled up into a tighter little circle, “well, I’ll consider it.”

           You felt warm, heavy fingers brush against the back of your neck, Jean absentmindedly painting figure eights into your prickling skin. Heat flushed to your face as you realized just how close your bodies had become—his thigh was pressed against your own, dark jeans tight and hot, the scruff of his cheeks brushing against your own as he toyed with the sleeping cat’s tail.

           There were voices all around you, the muffled sounds of your friends relaxing together falling almost on deaf ears. Your whole world felt like it just revolved around this couch, like nothing else mattered beyond the simple touches to your skin and the drowsy kitten beneath your hands. He never wanted you to spend another holiday alone, you replayed his words, the sweet sentiment finally settling into your spirit.

_______________

           You could tell everyone was starting to get a bit sleepy, a few hours spent drinking spiked eggnog and chasing the new kitten around with a feather toy having left you especially exhausted. Your head was a little swimmy as you bid everyone goodnight, the grey tabby cat following closely on your heels to your bedroom where Jean had already brought in a litter box and a bed for her to sleep in. Jean, underneath all the designer bravado and smiles, was perhaps the most thoughtful person you knew.

           But despite the heaviness in your head, you couldn’t seem to sleep. You tossed and turned in the bed, occasionally picking up your phone to scroll through it or just watch the time tick by. You had a lot of thoughts mulling around in your mind, most of them revolving around the man sleeping just right across the hall.

           Never in a million years did you expect Jean to walk in with a beautiful, perfect kitten as a gift. The little thing was back to sleeping again, this time curled around one of your feet, each exhale a little purr against your toes.

           You’d carried the weight of this crush around for too many years. You rubbed your palms against your eyes, sighing as you came to terms with your feelings for Jean for what felt like the thousandth time. Your pining was starting to take its toll, too, what with the sleeping giant so close yet so far away.

           And you still felt like you were missing something.

           Throughout the night, your friends had seemingly been playing coy, teasing Jean about getting you such a big, sentimental gift. Maybe they had all caught wind of your suppressed feelings and were poking at Jean for even daring to indulge you. Now you were just getting frustrated with your thoughts, sighing as you tried to squeeze your eyes shut and force yourself to sleep.

           But then you heard a little sound, the soft buzz of your phone against the wood of the night stand.

           Jean: You awake?

           Your heart skipped a little in your chest as you saw his name flash upon your screen. You texted him nearly every day, yet he never failed to send a little jolt of adrenaline down your spine.

           You: Yeah. Can’t sleep.

           Jean: Me either. Cabin is too fucking cold.

           You: I have a kitty asleep on my feet, definitely helps beat the chill.

           Jean: A warm kitty sounds nice right now.

           Only a few seconds passed before the next message appeared.

           Jean: Wanna come keep me company?

           Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment, your mind not even thinking about the words in front of you. Instead, you were picturing Jean in his bed, hair tussled with his own phone in his hand as he texted you, light spilling over his bare chest in the dark. You wondered what he was thinking—maybe he just wanted you to bring the cat over to see him for a bit, or maybe his mind was wandering in the same place yours was, which was picturing him naked beneath his sheets.

           You set the phone down, momentarily starting to panic.

           You hadn’t prepared for this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility that Jean might be asking you to come get in his fucking bed with him. Thank god you took a leisurely shower earlier—and you still smelled good, you checked.

           You stood up from the bed, watching the kitten stretch and quickly fall back asleep on top of the blankets. You bent down to slip on your pajama pants, but then found yourself debating if you should just leave the flimsy material behind.

           If this was what you were hoping it was, walking in without pants would send the “I got the hint, I’m here to fuck,” message loud and clear.

           But if this was just “hey pal come keep me company, I’m bored,” walking into his room in nothing but a shirt and panties could be quite awkward.

           You decided to hedge your bets, stuffing your pajama bottoms back into your bag as that lingering liquid courage from the eggnog set in. If worse came to worse, you could always say you forgot to pack them.

           You carefully closed the door behind you, making sure the cat didn’t follow.

           Then, it was literally just a few steps to Jean’s room. Conveniently, his door was cracked. Did he get up and leave it open for you? Did he always sleep with his door cracked? Or had he planned all along to ask you to come over?

           You shook your head, taking a deep breath. Those inessential thoughts needed to be quieted.

           The door creaked as you slid past it, the old hinges signaling your arrival and making Jean’s attention whip towards you. His phone was still in his hand, like was watching your messages and too-eagerly anticipating your reply.

           “Hey,” you whispered into the darkness, wincing as the door kept groaning as you pushed it shut behind you. You leaned against it for a moment, too nervous to just waltz up to his bed and fall in. You chewed at the inside of your cheek as you waited for him to break the silence.

           “Aren’t you cold?” He whispered back, shifting in the bed.

           His figure was illuminated by the pale, grey light from window, the snow clouds still keeping the moon suppressed in the sky. Like you’d imagined, he was shirtless, all those hard-earned muscles on display from where he was propped up on his elbows, sheets low against his waist.

           “I thought you were cold, Mr. No Shirt.”

           “You’re not wearing pants.”

           “I’m not wearing pants,” you parroted back.

           You watched the smile spread across his face, that darling, infuriatingly pretty smile that made you a little too happy in this moment.

           He pulled his sheets back in invitation, revealing that he, too, was not wearing pants, only clad in blue boxer briefs that were sinfully tight around his upper thighs, etchings of Calvin Klein pressed against his lower stomach.

           His hands were on you before you even settled onto the mattress, warm and greedy and pulling you flush against his body. All those worried thoughts you had before vanished under his touch, the message you had been missing suddenly loud and clear: you weren’t the only one hiding your feelings. All those veiled emotions came alive beneath wandering hands, your fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as his found the flesh of your thighs.

           “Was this what you were thinking about when you invited me here?”

           You breathed in the smell of his warm skin as you settled against him, notes of his cologne still lingering against his body.

           “This is what I think about all the time,” he confessed, nudging his thigh between your legs.

           You couldn’t stop the moan that fell from your mouth as the muscles of his thigh pressed against your aching core.

           “Me too,” you were pulling his face down to yours, thumbs against his cheeks as you pressed your lips to his.

           A satisfied sound rang from both of your throats, lips melding and slanting against one another hungrily.

           “Why didn’t you say anything?” His words were lost within the kiss, being swallowed down as you kept drinking him in.

           “Why didn’t you say anything?” You echoed back, gasping as his hands slid underneath your shirt and began to wander across your belly, reaching up toward your ribcage.

           You both knew the answer to that: you were idiots, too scared to admit feelings even though they were clearly on display for everyone around you. But now the question didn’t matter, all the answers you wanted about to be shared between your anxious bodies with starved kisses and touches.

           You shamelessly pressed yourself a little harder against his thigh, sighing as your pussy found relief against his leg. He groaned at your action, moving his thigh back and forth a little bit to see how you would react. When you whimpered, your own thighs squeezing around his, he smirked, repeating the motion of sweeping his thick, sturdy thigh back and forth between your legs.

           “You like that?” His head was tilting down, teeth nipping at your jaw and down your neck as your head fell back against the pillow.

           “Y-yes, feels so good.”

           His hands were still traveling, wandering across your heated skin like he wanted to map your curves into his memory. He groaned against your throat when he discovered you’d also forgotten to wear anything under your t-shirt, his thumbs lazily brushing the undersides of your breasts.

           You felt like you were burning beneath his sheets, like he was painting fire against your skin with every touch. His large hands engulfed your breasts, carefully kneading and rolling your soft flesh in his palms. He was eager to kiss you again, to slip his tongue past your parted lips and get addicted to your taste.

           Jean pinched and pulled at your hardening nipples, greedily taking your little mewls into his mouth. He touched you like he already knew you, pulling at your body like you were the perfect little sex doll on strings for him to play with; rocking you on his thigh, tugging at your nipples, tongue dancing in your mouth, his hair tickling your cheeks, his cock hard and hot against his stomach.

           Your panties were getting more and more wet by the second, the soaked material sinking into your folds as you rubbed yourself against the downy hairs and rounded, solid muscle of his upper thigh. His boxer briefs were bunching closer to his hips, pre-cum already staining against the fabric where his cock was imprinted into the threads. You slipped your hand down his impressive chest, fingers dipping into the elastic of his briefs.

           “Oh fuck,” he groaned against your lips, pulling back to suck in a breath as your fingertips brushed against the head of his cock, “fuck you’re so hot riding my thigh like that, so fucking wet.”

           “You did say you wanted a warm kitty.”

           Your words had him pinching harder at your nipples, making you gasp as he chuckled.

           “Mhm I can’t wait to play with your kitty, make you mine,” he punctuated his sentence by bouncing his leg up, sending electric pulses of pleasure racing over your nerves.

           You responded by pulling his cock from its confines, wrapping your fingers around it and tugging at the silken skin. God he was thick, barely fitting in your palm as you moved your wrist up and down. You suddenly felt so small against him, realizing that he was dwarfing you just by lying next to you in the bed. His long, thick fingers could spread across the entirety of your chest, the thigh sliding against your pussy was enormous, but it felt like it belonged there; you could get used to riding him like this.

          You both fell into a frenzied, delirious rhythm, your bodies bucking and panting as you found bliss against each other.

          His hands slid down your body, leaving your tender breasts and searching for a new home. He found your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he rocked you back and forth against his thigh himself, using the strength in his forearms to have your pussy pressed down against him in the most perfect way to have you seeing stars and whining his name.

          “Gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum just from riding me?”

          “Fuck, yeah, yes, please, make me cum like this.”

          Your hand had gone slack against his cock, your mind almost unable to concentrate under the waves of pleasure building and coiling inside you.

          It felt too good to have his rapacious hands on your hips, grip mean and tight as he basically fucked you against his thigh. You wanted to scream, your other hand clawing at the back of his neck for stability.

          “Baby,” he breathed, peppering a few kisses along your cheek, “could…could you call me daddy when you cum?”

          There was a hesitancy in his voice, like he was ashamed to ask such a thing.

          Your lower belly clenched, heat racing across all your nerve endings like he’d just poured sin straight out of his mouth.

          You nodded your head for him, uncontrollable moans and gasps getting in the way of your own words. The thought of calling him daddy, that sent something wicked down to your pussy, had your fingers squeezing and tugging at his cock again and your eyes falling shut.

          It felt like your sanity was breaking, like reality was splintering and this wasn’t real—you were dreaming again, weren’t you? But then you felt his cock twitch in your hand, felt your swollen clit brush against your panties and his thigh, and you were thrusted back into the actuality of your situation. You were with Jean, he was groaning in your ear, and you were about to cum all over him.

          “D—da…,” you were choking, so overwhelmed with a final cresting of bliss that you almost felt like sobbing.

          But he just clutched you more tightly, pressed you harder against him, whispering your name in encouragement to let yourself go for him.

          Then, you lost all of your sensibilities, euphoria washing over your body as you snapped and came undone with a little whine of, “daddy,” against his lips. You slowed the rocking of your hips, your heart beating out of your chest, your pussy pulsing and clenching as you rode out the last remnants of your orgasm.

          “Holy fucking shit that’s so hot, you’re so hot,” he mumbled, one of his hands smoothing against your cheek.

          “Wha—,” you smiled, shaking your head as you caught your breath, “what are you doing with a daddy kink, Jean?”

          He mimicked your smile, hands moving to slide your ruined panties down your legs and removed the rest of your clothing as he repositioned your bodies. You let him move you around like a ragdoll, so delirious in your afterglow that you barely even registered how he was hooking your legs onto his shoulders.

          “Do you not like calling me daddy?” There was a seriousness laced into his tone that told you he’d drop it if it made you uncomfortable.

          “I like it,” you fisted one of your hands in his hair, bringing his lips to yours for a slow, messy kiss, “just didn’t expect it.”

          “I’m full of surprises, baby.”

          You felt the head of his cock nudge between your wet folds, his hands back on your hips where they belonged. Your head fell back against the pillow as he started to push inside of you, stretching your walls and making your toes go almost numb from the pleasure. You felt like you were splitting apart, like a fissure was forming down the middle of your body, stemming from where he was spearing into you.

          With your legs on his broad shoulders, he was pushing you into the mattress, his hands urging your hips to relax and let him sink into your warm heat.

          “Ohhhh fuckkkk daddy,” you couldn’t help but to whine, all your senses suddenly overwhelmed again. You were drowning in him, falling deeper and deeper into the throes of heaven with every inch of his fat cock slipping inside of you.

          “God you’re so tight,” he presses his forehead to yours, keen eyes watching how your lips were falling apart and your eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure, “that’s right, daddy’s going to take such good care of you.”

          It felt like all your history with him was being wiped away, like this moment wasn’t about two friends fulfilling all their years of mutual pining, but instead about a new relationship blooming between two bodies full of lust and desire. This was about Jean fucking you senseless, about him taking control and finally having what’s belonged to him for longer than he probably even realized. You wanted to lose yourself to him, lose yourself to his appetite and just let him devour you.

          All the air left your lungs when bottomed out inside of you, your walls clenching and sucking him in. He stayed still for a moment, nearly lost himself at the feeling of your cunt wrapped so tightly around his cock.

          “So fucking perfect,” he groaned, dragging his cock out of you slowly before pressing in again, your cunt greedily sucking him back in.

          “I always have been,” you teased, one hand lost in his hair while the other slid down the expanse of his back. You bucked your hips in his hands, coaxing him to keep moving.

          “Oh fuck. Good girl.”

          His praise made you feel drunk, liquid heat rushing to your ears and between your legs.

          He began to snap his hips, repeatedly burying his cock into your depths, the angle of your body making him hit that fleshy patch inside of you. You cried out at the feeling of being so stuffed, your walls burning from the intrusion but that coil inside your belly tightening again, hotter and more intense than before.

          “Mhmmm, such a good girl, I promise,” you pressed your lips to his in reassurance, letting your breathy moans fall into his mouth as he started to get a little rougher. His pace was steady, solid, a hard motion of his cock thrusting in and out of you, each push and pull full of purpose and passion. Every plunge was making your lower stomach spasm, making pleasure burst across your body so forcefully that you felt that urge to cry again.

          “Wanted to fuck you for so long,” his face was tucked underneath your chin, mouth trailing across your throat between his words. A particularly hard suck against your neck had your back arching, breasts flattening against his chest and your nails clinging to him.

          Jean sat back on his knees, big hands smoothing down your thighs as he looked to where your bodies were conjoined, watching how your pussy enveloped his cock with every thrust of his hips, sweet skin encasing all of his length. He looked enraptured by the sight, groaning and hissing every time he pressed inside of you.

          Then his eyes were flashing up to your face, softening as he took note of your blissed-out state, your face flushed and your lip between your teeth.

          “So pretty,” he mused, a palm ghosting up to your chest to toy with one of your tits as he found a new rhythm.

          You were ensnared by the scene before you as well, eyes wide with delight as you admired the man before you. Jean felt unhinged, electric between your legs, like he’d finally let go and was pouring all his clandestine secrets into your willing body. His chestnut hair was swept over his shoulders, the muscles in his arms and across his body rolling, rounded and thick like he was marble come to life. And his face was smooth, pretty, concentrated, cheeks dusky with a dark blush as he found euphoria from within your body.

          Your hips began to match his thrusts, bucking up into him in order to feel his thick cock fall deeper into you. His strong hands encouraged you, gripping into the supple flesh of your thighs as he pressed himself into your wetness, faster and faster with every thrust.

          “Daddy,” you called out to him, having to bite back a grin as you observed how quickly you earned his attention, “you feel s-so good,” your hand was traveling down your chest, trailing over his fingers on your breast before snaking down to your clit, “p-please let me cum again.”

          You had an inkling that he would take over for you.

          His thick, long fingers hovered over your own, carefully aiding in swirling over your aching clit. You hissed, recognizing the buildup to orgasm pooling within your belly.

          Jean’s other hand slid higher upon your body, fingers lacing around your ribcage, framing the underside of your breast. He began to forcefully pull your body into his, sliding you upon and down the sheets and upon his cock. You cried out, legs tightening at his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, begging him to devour you and take what he wanted. His thumb was almost impatient on your clit, now circling so quickly that your body was shaking, lower stomach clenching and unclenching repeatedly like you were lost in a reckless tide.

          “Shit, I’m not gonna last with you squeezing me like that, baby.”

          Your mouth watered at the thought of him finding that ultimate pleasure inside of you. Your ears became tuned to the chorus of resonances between your legs, the sweet, wet sounds of skin against skin, of slick at the base of a fat cock, of Jean grunting your name like a lost prayer.

          The final chord of your sanity was threatening to snap, you could feel it again, like he was pulling the strings of your body too tightly and you were going to splinter and break with just the right swipe of his thumb.

          “I-inside,” you mewled, unable to keep your eyes open any longer as your thighs began to quake, “daddy—oh fuck, fuck—cum inside me, please,”

          God you were so fucking close to falling off the edge, and he could feel it, using his grip to bring you even harder and faster down onto your cock to get you careening and falling again.

          Your push into oblivion came when you heard him pleading, almost whining, above you, sweat dripping down his skin as his syllables flowed together, “please, please, please, fuck, cum for daddy, cum for me, please.”

          You could both feel it, how you creamed around his cock, pussy sucking him in so deliciously tight that it caused him to lose all control. His fingers dug a little too deep, his cock throbbing and pumping deep inside of you with his release. It was like the world went quiet, like a blanket of snow fell onto your bodies and hushed your sounds and cooled your skin. You could feel the heavy weight of him inside of you, like he was meant to be there. Your body relaxed, feeling like you were sinking into the mattress and he was the only thing keeping you from being lost.

          When he finally pulled his spent cock from inside you, he wasn’t gone long. His hands were back on you again, pulling you in for simple, affectionate kisses and rubbing tenderly at the places he’d perhaps explored too roughly.

          “Jean…” you cut yourself off with a yawn, fatigued limbs winding into his own.

          His thigh found its home between your legs again, both of you groaning with a mixture of lust and disgust as you felt his cum drip into a mess between your thighs.

          “Whatever it is can wait until morning, we need to sleep.”

          “Oh fuck, it’s Christmas.”

          He nuzzled your cheek, lips searching for yours.

          “Mhmm, Merry Christmas, baby.”

          You laughed, laying your head against his chest.

_______________

          You weren’t sure how long you slept, but it felt like you spent a small eternity in Jean’s bed before your eyes opened again. When you awoke, he was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with the kitten in his arms. She was ready to play, striped tail swishing as he dangled a toy mouse just out of her reach.

          “What time is it?” You stretched, suddenly all too aware that you were still very naked beneath the sheets.

          “It’s only eight, everyone else is still asleep aside from Mikasa who actually went for a run in the fucking snow.”

          Jean smiled, hair tucked behind his ears, and you felt your heart skip a beat as you realized just how madly in love with him you were. You always aimed to make him smile, to hear him laugh, but to see him gazing at you in the morning sun with pure adoration shining in his hazel eyes had you practically melting into the bed.

          “I meant what I said last night, you know,” he said, turning the kitten loose to run across the bed.

          “You said a lot of things last night, daddy,” you teased, watching his cheeks turn a pretty pink at the mention of that name.

          “I meant about you never spending another holiday alone. Because, you know, I’d like to…” he trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck like he was genuinely nervous.

          You sat up, running a hand down his arm before kissing at his shoulder, momentarily getting lost in the smell and feel of him.

          “Yeah, I’d like that.”

          No one was surprised that the two of you, and the kitten, spent every single holiday together thereafter, mostly naked, and always smiling.

[deaconusdelirium]

Appreciation

Alright, what better way to come back than write a oneshot on one of favorite villains?

: Yet another oneshot of Makarov since you all are begging to have another CoD writing from me, worship, Makarov…being Makarov, appropriation:)

Warnings: slight mention of death, (of course), and our lover saying he’ll do it again

———

Makarov stood a few feet behind you, watching as the already clean house, was being cleaned once again. Different colored eyes studied your movements and the way you put whatever you carried, down soft and gently. It was quiet, a comfortable silence, he hadn’t announced his arrival back home, and he was curious what you were doing.

A smile drew across his face as he realized you did this yourself, you got yourself into this mess, his mess, all on your own. He had given you numerous times to walk out on him and leave for good, but you never faltered. He’s had a few ‘lovers’ walk out on him, maybe it was because he was too much, or the way death followed him every where he went, or maybe whenever he accidentally got too rough and hurt them?

He learned from his previous mistakes, learning and teaching himself, actually wanting to prove himself to you since he tried his very best and gave his all into the relationship. One he knew this was serious he wanted this to last forever. The man from earlier opened his eyes, helped him see from a new perspective. And in return, he let the man return to his lover, one he put of her misery.

He tilted his head, the image replayed. He couldn’t care about what happened to the mans wife, but he found amusement in the way he mourned his partner, how he cried as he held her lifeless body in his arms. Cursing at the Russian for ruining the one thing he believed and loved the most. He rambled on about the little things. That made him question his feelings for you. Were you just another woman? Or were you actually someone he wanted to spend his life with?

His question was shortly answered when he seen your back turned to him, organizing the coffee table in middle of the room. He walked closer, noticing that you dropped the flower that was made of beads, on the floor. Before you bent down to pick it up, he did, “for you, malishka” he teased, watching you playfully glare at him and take the rose, putting it back in the vase. “Welcome home love, how was work?” He couldn’t help but watch with admiration, eyes fully trained on you as you questioned how his day at work went.

“Better than yesterday” He answered, taking his jacket off, shrugging his sleeves off, then folding it. “I’ll be back”you smiled and took his jacket, probably to hang it up. You came back faster than he thought, he could only raise a brow. Undoing the buttons on his cuffs, he rolled his sleeves up, revealing both tattoos that decorated his forearms. He squeezed both fists, stretching them as his muscles flexed under his white shirt. “Why are you in a rush?” Finally asking, since you almost ran around. “You don’t remember?” He pondered, trying to remember what today was. “…our anniversary?” You hummed out a no, “a date?” “Not quite, a dinner with my parents?”

He swore he felt himself sigh on the inside, as big and bad as he was outside of the house, you scared him whenever you both were inside. He let let out a quick “oh!” And a small laugh, one that made you smile and feel warm on the inside. He watched as you shook your head, laughing along and turned to walk off. Before you could, he grabbed your arm. Making you face him, his hand reaching down to yours and bringing it up to his lips. Was this the kind and sweet lover he was looking for?

Now was his chance to actually express how much he needed you.

“There no way I deserve this” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand. He tried to hint towards you, going the extra mile when he kissed down to your ring finger. He watched as your lips parted slightly, like you were going to say something, he pulled away slowly, keeping your hand in his as his other went to your hip, wanting to keep you closer.

Only then he realized, this is exactly what he wanted, “Makarov?” Your voice rang throughout his head, the kind that reminded him of distant wedding bells with a soft hum. He could almost feel it. The domestic life, one he never wanted but dreamed of, and now he had it.

The hand that held yours traced up your arm and onto the other “So beautiful” his head dipped down to your ear, whispering the words ever so lightly. He watched the man cry after his lover earlier, and now all he could think of was you. How we would tear the world apart instead of bringing it together. “If it’s not you, then it won’t do” he turned just a bit, to kiss the corner of your mouth, “my darling, I love you more than life itself,” he confessed. Both arms wrapped around you as you held his upper arms, shocked at his new found behavior.

You wanted to see where this was going, where he wanted to lead this, and how he played it out. “,and know that I would burn the world for you” he delivered a quick and loving kiss to your lips, you knew he meant it, but that wasn’t what you wanted. No, but it was definitely something to question later on. “I know, but where would you be if you did?” He smiled, seeing exactly what you were pointing out. “That’s an answer for a later doing, but for now. Let’s put on a show for your parents, shall we?”

———

Not the best since I came back, just a little warmup

Requests are open!

[nanatsumu]

HIGH SCHOOL!SUKUNA x F!READER

thinking about bad boy itadori sukuna who all the kids at school try to steer clear from because they know he’s bad news and if you get involved with him then you’re bound to be tied with bad luck for as long as he lives. well, that is everyone except for the president of the student council who so happens to be his childhood best friend turned lover.

this is mostly written for my own self indulgence and to project my fantasies of having a boyfriend onto sukuna but feel free to treat this as any other headcanon! ps i am pretty sure canon sukuna would kill a baby at any given situation, but this is going to be a revamped version of sukuna written by yours truly ;) and its a high school au so sukuna won’t be a complete menace to society and will actually have a heart heh

also i didn’t realize how long this was going to be??? this is kind of all over place too because i just wanted to throw all of my thoughts onto this post so there might be some plot holes in this LOL

i feel like sukuna would be the type of bad boy who isn’t necessarily a bad boy but everyone at school just paints him as some kind of delinquent because of all the tattoos and piercings he has.

he actually shows up to school more often than you think he would (but that’s only because you’re in most of his classes so long story short: you’re his only motivation for attending class)

“forgets” to bring his work books to class more than usual (in reality he does this on purpose so he has an excuse to be near you) so he requests to sit next to you the entire class period so he can share with you for the meantime but whenever the teachers not looking he’ll go back to admiring your face.

his older twin brother, itadori yuji, is very fond of you since you three grew up together and you both had your chances of being a victim to his antics!

exhibit a: in middle school when you and yuji were watching tv together, the show you two were watching would keep switching to some wrestling match broadcasting on a sports channel and no matter how many times you turned the tv on and off, it just would not stop. but it wasn’t until you heard snickering from the kitchen that you realized sukuna had a spare remote and was the mastermind behind the whole thing.

exhibit b: sukuna and yuji’s mom was the owner of a bakery so every now and then she would have either one of the twins come deliver freshly baked pastries to your household! oh how wrong was she to trust her youngest. sukuna was now a freshman in high school, and by now you would’ve thought that sukuna would have grown out of his childish phase, but WRONG! sukuna was still a menace in your life even past childhood. so when you bit into one of the macaroons, instead of being hit with the overwhelming taste of [favorite flavor], all you could feel was the burning sensation of wasabi kicking into your tastebuds.

yeah after the whole wasabi macaroon freak accident, you stopped accepting everything sukuna offered to you and opted to only eating pastries out of the boxes that yuji delivered to you. (sukuna eventually caught onto this and was just TEENSY bit upset but he would rather down a whole tube of wasabi than to tell you upfront)

now, how did you two even end up dating??? oh boy now that is a story

you see, yours and sukuna’s dynamic growing up was similar to that of tom and jerry’s— you being jerry and sukuna being 10x worse than tom of course

but it wasn’t until a confession after school behind the cherry blossom tree that was known for bringing good luck to successful confessions that sukuna finally realized that maybe he really did like you just a little lot bit

sukuna overheard the boy who was planning on confessing to you talking to his friend group about how “sweet and caring” you are (although sukuna could argue otherwise, you were a little brat. *LIKE HELLO?!&:&:& YOU WEREN’T THE ONE WHO ATE A MACAROON FILLED WASABI**) and obviously his ears perked up at the mention of your name. he grew up with you after all so naturally he would be interested in a conversation that revolved around you.

but then the boys started going on about how “you looked like an easy catch” and how “your body was bangin’!” yeah no, that’s where he drew the line. sure sukuna was an ass and talked shit about you most of the time (in his defense it wasn’t like he was doing it behind your back) but if he ever caught someone else talking about you like that then he would be sure to give them a hard time.

he hid behind one of the bushes near the cherry blossom tree while the boy was professing his love for you. funnily enough, for a moment sukuna forgot why he was originally there because he was too busy trying to stifle a laugh as he watched the boy stumble over his words.

“okay shows over” sukuna thought as the confession was reaching its conclusion, but just as he was about to step in and give the poor boy a piece of his mind, he stopped in his tracks when he heard you roaring with laughter.

“did you really think that i wouldn’t hear about what you and your friends said about me earlier? you’re really pathetic if you think any girl would be easy enough to fall to her knees for you because news flash! you’re a disgusting pig and you deserve to rot in hell for speaking about a girl’s worth like that.”

“it’s kind of sad too, i thought you were a nice boy and i probably would have given you a chance but it seems like you’re even worse than scum! damn it, to think there was somebody out there who’s even worse than sukuna.”

of course sukuna was not pleased to hear that last bit, but he did have a proud grin forming on his face as he watched the boy run away, flustered from your rejection and the embarrassment he was put through.

“sukuna i know you’re hiding behind the bush.”

“huh? i came here way before you got here, there’s no way you could have seen me.” he said as he stood up to his full height.

“well, your laughter isn’t exactly the quietest, plus i can spot that hair of yours from a mile away.”

lets just say, sukuna was glad you didn’t ask him what he was doing there because he wasn’t sure if he could spare the embarrassment of telling you that he was planning on ruining the confession.

after that whole fiasco happened, sukuna started to feel(!&:&::&) things

like he started to notice how you styled your hair differently one day and how you switched to a new perfume that smelled like spearmint (was that weird? for sukuna probably not. he just excuses it as being highly observant)

you weren’t dumb either, you had a feeling sukuna was there that day of the confession because he too had overheard the conversation between the boy and his friends as well (you knew he was prideful and if you brought it up then he probably would’ve denied it)

so from there on out it was just mutual pining at the point except... well.... not really??

i feel like it was just an unspoken agreement between you two that you guys were “together” but not “together together” because he started to treat you differently than he would before. like for example, he’d carry your bag for you whenever you guys would walk home (yuji was confused by this at first because if anything, it would have made more sense to see sukuna make you carry HIS bag, but he eventually caught on to sukuna’s feelings for you because they were twin brothers after all), he started walking you to class more often even though his class was all the way on the other side of the school (you asked him why but he just shrugged and said he was just “killing time” so that he wouldn’t have to go to class and then you ended up scolding him), and there was also that one time you miraculously found a $20 bill in your backpack after mentioning to sukuna that there was this cute top you saw at the mall the other day but didn’t have enough money at the time to purchase it (you asked him about this but he said it was probably yuji, but you didn’t want to pry any further since you wanted to cherish the fact that sukuna cared that much)

but eventually you got sick of this whole push and pull game that you physically had to tug the collar of his school uniform and pull him in for a kiss (he was visibly shocked at this because he never would’ve imagined you as the assertive type. not that he was complaining though)

“oya? didn’t think you liked me this much kitten.” he said laughing while you rolled your eyes.

“as if, i got tired of you being a wuss so one of us had to wear the pants in the relationship.” you snorted, causing him to irk.

to be honest, your relationship with him is smooth sailing because you both were pretty chill people and you didn’t have to worry about him sneaking behind your back to see other girls because 1. literally all the girls at school are terrified of him and 2. he knew what you were capable of doing to him if you were to ever catch him cheating on you so he wants to stay on your good side

jealous and possessive don’t exist in his dictionary because he is the epitome of those two words. remember what i said about how your relationship is smooth sailing? i kinda lied.

he’s easily jealous like for example: when you were in english class and the teacher had you guys jot down some notes, you realized you forgot to ask for your pencil back when you lent it to your friend last period.

so you asked sukuna to borrow a pencil but instead of giving you a pencil, he called you an idiot for being so forgetful.

this makes you mad so you turn to your male classmate since he was sitting on your opposite side and ask him for a pencil instead.

sukuna was practically fuming the entire class period and once the day ended and you two were back at your place, he made sure to mark you real good. (oh he also went out to buy a pack of mechanical pencils to sneak into your backpack so that next time you forget your pencils, you’ll have 10 extra pencils sitting in your backpack as backup)

he’s not a big fan of pda in public, but on the chances he will show some of it, the most he will do is wrap an arm around your shoulder or waist whenever some dude is trying to hit on you.

BUT IN PRIVATE? better buckle up because your in for a ride wink wink

really likes putting hickeys on you to a fault! but will never put any visible ones on your neck because he doesn’t want your parents to view him as some kind of animal (but he has nothing to worry about because your parents really like him and are grateful for the fact that he’s very loyal to you, and you guys grew up together so it’s only natural that your parents are accepting of him since they already know he has a good heart underneath that tough facade of his)

oh, and yuji starts learning how to knock whenever you come over (or shuts himself in his room for the meantime if he thinks it’s unsafe to step out of his room) because chances are, you’re probably making out with sukuna in his room or smth.

now onto the spicy stuff

when you and sukuna first started dating, the first thing you told him was that you weren’t ready to have sex yet because you were nervous and sukuna understood and told you that he was willing to wait for whenever you were ready.

but when you were ready though, it was kind of spontaneous and you weren’t even wearing a matching pair of bra and underwear that day

you two were chilling in your room watching some stupid (according to sukuna) animal documentary when suddenly you felt his hand on your thigh

dating sukuna and all, it was normal for him to have his hands on some part of your body (whether it be your thigh or your waist) while you two were in bed.

but you were feeling a bit bolder HORNEE than usual so you began to leave a hot trail of kisses starting from his jaw all the way down to his neck.

sukuna obviously got the memo but before those kisses could escalate into something more daring, he asked you once more if you were completely sure you wanted to do it and once you gave him the green light, he was quick to tug his shirt over his head and pounce on you.

he started getting really into it though and accidentally bit your thigh which made you loose your high and scold him for it, but he let out a hearty laugh and muttered a quick apology before getting back into business

sike i lied, remember what i said about it being spontaneous? yeah, you technically didn’t loose your virginity to him that day because after he finished prepping you, you both came to a realization that you didn’t have a condom.

oh well, there’s always next time!

i think sukuna is a sucker for pet names: his favorite thing to call you is either kitten or princess and that’s it LOL he finds calling you baby or babe is a bit too cheesy for him

but he likes it when you call him baby or babe ;)

date nights consist of either staying in and cuddling in his room, going out for a walk at night (but very very late though. there’s still lamp posts that guide your way through the streets but it gives you the heebie jeebies to be out walking outside so late. sukuna always reminds you that nothing bad will happen as long as he’s right by your side), or just spending time with you and your families.

but if you’re really down to do it, he’ll probably initiate a make out session that’ll lead to y’all fucking one way or another (he only ever does it if he is 100% sure that you’re feeling it because he knows you get easily embarrassed if he asks you straight up)

(this part is mainly written for me because i love the idea of sukuna being over at family functions, but it can be applied as part of the general hc heh) if you took him to any of your family functions as your plus one for the first time, all the aunts and uncles would be a bit wary of him at first due to all of the tattoos and piercings he has (sukuna swears he has never felt so self conscious before) but after they strike up a conversation with him and find out that he’s actually a good guy who knows what he wants to do in the future and is very loyal to you, they start to like him more.

your little cousins adore him and love it when he comes over because sukuna is a very tall high schooler which makes him the perfect candidate as a monkey bar

so when you noticed that all the little ones started to climb on his body and mess around with his hair, you were quick to react because you knew your boyfriend was easily irritable which prompted you to think he hated kids

but there was nothing to worry about because when you saw him playing around with them and even crack a smile, you felt your heart grow fuzzy at the sight and you knew right then and there that you wanted to stick by sukuna’s side for the rest of your life

and in the unfortunate circumstances that sukuna is too busy to make it to one of your functions, the first thing everyone asks is “where’s your boyfriend?” or “where’s ‘kuna? i wanna play with him!”

so you have to facetime him and let him know that everyone is wondering where he is (your phone is dead by the end of the night because after the adults get their turn at saying hi to your boyfriend, the kids snatch your phone and end up talking to him for the rest of the night)

but in conclusion, everyone is waiting for the day he gets on one knee to propose to you and your parents are itching to get to get call sukuna their son-in-law :))

also don’t forget that your parents want two grandchildren: one boy and one girl!

[otomegema]

title: Convergence Theory pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don't even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: Mature for now, explicit later most likely because WHY NOT tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

August, 2005.

That summer had been oppressively warm, a layer of heat trapped beneath a layer of moisture that made even the light fabric of your yukata stick to your sides. It was the kind of weather that made your body beg for relief, to lay shivering and sweltering under the barest breath of cool air.

Your mother had opened the outside screens in the room, letting you sit on the porch overlooking the small garden at the center of the expansive, traditional home. The view was lovely, overlooking a manicured garden, a small koi pond bubbling pleasantly even as the night air chirped with the sounds of insects.

The main house was equipped with air conditioners in some of the rooms— just like your parent’s own home, only a short distance away, but somehow so far removed from the atmosphere of this place it felt miles away. Centuries. The clock on the wall seemed suspended in time, halted too by the weight that fell over this place.

There was nothing to be done. When the head of the Gojo family called, even the smallest vine, hanging from the tiniest branch, curled in. Your great grandmother had bore the Gojo name before she married, a detail of minor significance that had not effected your own family until your birth. You had often heard your parents discussing the main family in hushed voices when they thought you were not listening. First with excitement and eagerness and then with worry.

There had been a phone call, an order disguised as invitation.

Gojo Satoru, heir to the name, barer of the Six Eyes, was turning sixteen in December, a scant four months away.

Six Eyes. Two words that managed to leave the bitterest taste of bile in your throat.

It had been thought the next Six Eyes would be born in your generation, your parents hopeful at one point that you were the one so blessed. A hundred years of waiting ended by the birth of another child, honored above all other sorcerers. Your had been born with the Limitless, that much was certain and an extra unnaturally keen ability of foresight… the signs were there. The possibility that the the massive potential of the Limitless was within your grasp if you could only prove to possess the fabled Six Eyes…

You were hailed for a short time as possibly a true child of the Gojo blood, a blessing. A boon. And then not even a short year later that boy was tested. No two Six Eyes could exist and it was him, not you, who was truly blessed.

You ran your hands up the back of your neck, dislodging the hair stuck your heated skin.

And worse yet, now you would suffer the indignity of being paraded around with every other eligible girl with a single drop of Gojo blood diluted enough to be proper for marriage.

Gojo Satoru needed a betrothed and only the best would do, naturally.

You were to be polite, courteous and docile. Laugh at his jokes, bat your eyes. Play the role of the pursued for the pursuer.

Did you even want to be selected? Once hailed as the promised child, now degraded to probable broodmare ?

You sucked your teeth, holding back a feral shriek somewhere deep in your throat. There was a knock on the wooden frame of the room, lazy and slow. The door slid open before your mother could get you to return inside to the low tables and too hot tea laid out.

You were all but deaf to the sounds of stilted, forced polite conversation, but could not ignore the sudden presence of a young man who came to sit down hard at your side.

Gojo Satoru was not an unattractive young man. He had the signature Gojo coloring, his eyelashes even as pale as driven snow. You yourself had even inherited two streaks of white in your hair, framed near your face and standing in contrast against the rest.

But that handsomeness was hard to enjoy when his expression was one of such utter indifference. He did not even bother to remove the dark glasses that shaded over his eyes, but you hardly were offended. It would have been all the worse to have to look at the very thing you coveted most in this world. Taunting you. Dismissing you.

How many girls had he been forced to sit with today? Judging by his bored expression, too many.

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” He said, voice amused, yet slightly condescending. Behind you both, his parents spoke with your own, but that too was part of the charade. All eyes were on you. All ears tuned to your words.

“You know my name.” You said with a thinly veiled sigh. His attention shifted just a fraction and you noticed with an indignant flush he was wearing his school uniform. Shirt untucked, jacket unbuttoned. You had been forced to spend hours getting ready for this meet-up.

He tilted down his glasses to give you a halfway appraising look and you turned away.

“Goin’ for the aloof angle then? Some other girls tried it too. As if you pretend hard enough that you aren’t interested somehow I will be.”

How fucking arrogant.

Your fists clenched in your lap.

“It won’t work.”

“I’m not working any ‘angle’.” You grumbled, “I was told to be here so I’m here. That’s all.”

“You expect me to believe that, huh?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” You spat back, turning to shoot him a piercing glare.

There was silence then, even the voices behind you seeming to falter and lower as if worried they were missing out on some secret hushed conversation.

“Ohhh, wait. I remember now! I do know your name.” Gojo continued, taking off his sunglasses and wiping off some smudge or dust from the lens, “Aren’t you that girl they thought was gonna have the Six Eyes in her?”

Your fist clenched tighter.

“I get it now. Sour grapes and all. Tell ya what…” he spoke softer and leaned in until you felt his breath against your ear, “If you ask me really nicely, for one night, you still could."

The only sound that came after that was the harsh strike of skin against skin. The contact of your palm connecting to his cheek stunned not just the adults inside, but you.

No self respecting sorcerer with the Limitless ability would have been taken by surprise and yet here you sat, having successfully struck the heir to the Gojo name right across his smug face.

You drew your hand back. His pale cheek had turned a throbbing red so quickly, his smirk raised as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and revealed how his blue eyes danced with open amusement.

***

September, 2017.

The uproar that followed that moment twelve years ago had been profound. Your parents had spent the remainder of the visit profusely apologizing and demanding explanations… and the entire time Gojo had stared only at you. Blue eyes wide and engulfing, a smirk etched in the corner of his mouth even as he got up and strode out without another word.

You remembered he had whistled as he went. As if it were all according to plan.

No betrothal was agreed to that night nor any night since. You were never summoned to the main house again.

It had been the most freeing moment of your young life, opening the world from the one pinpointed hope you’d be born with the Six Eyes or wed to the one who had it into a kaleidoscope of possibility.

You attended Jujutsu Tech’s Kyoto branch, keeping far out of the way of the rising star of the Gojo clan.

Well.

Sorta.

So the problem with having an inherited technique that allowed you to “see” curses and cursed energy users from great distances? Gojo Satoru. The man was such an expansive supernova of energy that when you opened your mind and utilized your gift of telemetry to try and pinpoint targets you had to navigate around his massive, dominating aura.

It was like counting stars against a sunlit sky. The ability, that should have been astronomically useful, rendered inert if Gojo Satoru was on the field.

You tried not to have your own missions line up with his. Which meant keeping tabs on him. Which meant having to live with this gnat, this buzzing fly of cursed bullshit constantly humming in the background when you used your gifts.

You wished everyday you had swatted him harder.

Missions in Tokyo were the worst, but you accepted them without complaint. The fact you’d even managed to rise to second grade despite your public humiliation of the main family’s golden child was a miracle in itself and not one you would squander.

The task was simply. There was a cursed entity that was utilizing the signal within electric devices of all things to move from device to device, rapid as an electrical pulse. It had already killed five non-sorcerers in surge related house-fires in two days. The risk of it causing a massive firestorm in any district rising.

The air had begun to cool in Tokyo, the heat of the summer giving way to fall. You sat on a bench, wireless com already clipped to your ear, the only sound so far the faint static of the open radio and the sound of your breath. The air had that crispness already, the bare cusp of autumn. You steadied your thoughts and began to shut down your senses.

The cursed energy of the young sorcerer students around you began to glow in your mind’s eye, the rest of the world fading into shades of imperceptible grey. Blurring. Distorting.

If you had the Six Eyes, you would be able to see it all. But instead, you blinded yourself to everything but the cursed when you utilized your skill.

You shut your eyes and with a soft breath you whispered, “Cursed technique— Limitless Telemetry: Grey.”

The city revealed itself to your five senses like a massive overflowing of information. Had you not taken the time to adjust, quickly shutting down your hearing, sight, taste, smell and touch in order to compensate, the mental load would have stunned you into a comatose state for several hours. Another thing a Six Eyes user would never need to do. You mentally chastised yourself for allowing the distraction of a deprecating thought, and focused instead upon your sixth sense. The one that tracked beyond the physical.

You were effectively helpless in this state, but within your mind you breezed through the city like a thumb pressed over the pages of a book. Flipping at your leisure as you focused in upon the fastest moving pulse of cursed energy.

In your “peripheral vision” or what acted like a sort of peripheral vision, you could sense the constant presence of Gojo. It was far away, diluted. You wondered if perhaps he was overseas for the barest moment until your senses snapped together and fell upon your target.

You spoke. Your words falling on your own deaf ears as you gave the location into the com. You perceived the movement of the three students. Good kids, fast learners. One boy was even a scion of another great house and the one girl among them possessed a cursed technique of extreme value. The other boy, the pink haired one, you had yet to understand, but his cursed energy output was impressive.

The entity moved. You adjusted, giving new instructions. The curse had not yet caught on to the fact it was being tracked, a fact you would use to your advantage as long as possible. If the curse sensed you, it could easily close the distance and attempt to seek you out… which was why sitting in a park, far from any electrical devices other than your battery powered radio was the safest place you could be.

And if worse came to worse, at least it would be drawn out in the open.

The entity jumped again, following the planned route the three had decided upon to box it further and further into a section of the city that they had already prepared to shut down. Without power, the curse would have to break free of its hiding place within the electric current.

How did a curse even get into the power grid? Too many lost football games on TV? You chuckled a bit to yourself without thinking, providing the newest coordinates as you watched, like an omnipresent spectator as the energies of the curse and the students moved.

This is why I score the highest at Pac-Man…

Everything was going according to plan. You had begun to even let your thoughts wonder, your focus softening just the barest fraction as the students rounded the final corner and blocked the curse into the chosen spot.

And now here comes the switch…

You braced for the surge of cursed energy you expected to feel from it’s ejection…but the power stayed on. You had to stifle the sensation of panic that sparked through your heart, your cursed energy rising a fraction.

And there it was. You felt the shift, the sudden adjusting of the entity. The students flared bright, attacking to try and ward off its escape, but without the power shut off they were waiting for, the curse easily vanished, pulsing through the city and heading now straight ahead… to you.

It’s fine. Fine. Nothing electric by me, so no fast travel.

It couldn’t pass through the coms. It would need to branch off into another grounded circuit and then physically come out to face you in the empty park.

You could hold unto the technique a little longer. Guide the students a little longer. You snapped information in quick short terms. Watching the cursed energy approach closer and closer until it reached the last building at the far end of the park.

And then, inexplicably, it jumped again.

The force in which you were propelled did not immediately register to your mind as your senses flickered and began to come back on line one by one.

The first was touch.

And thus pain.

Your muscles contracted, shot full with an electrical pulse. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, the strike coming indirectly as if someone had forced the curse away. Something blinding and bright exploding over the far-reaching vision of your Limitless technique before your ability snapped off like a cut thread.

Your hearing came back first from sheer force of will. Sight returning in blurry, slowly filling shapes. You forced yourself up from the ground, feeling scrapes biting along your palms.

“You fucking dick.” You managed to hiss, your vision returning just in time to witness the exorcism of the curse by none other than Gojo Satoru.

***

“You used me as bait!”

Your voice reverberated off the hallway walls, your mild injuries tended to but your grievances still in desperate need of airing.

You were only comforted by the fact his students had not been involved in the deception, having also thought Gojo was away while they worked under her guidance in the meanwhile. You were no teacher, but you had taken enough students through missions to be adequate at “babysitting”.

Gojo grinned easily, eyes hidden behind his blind fold as he ran a hand up his neck, feigning a bashfulness you knew had not an ounce of genuineness to it.

The bastard had quietly set up a god damn daisy chain of extension cables into the park, ending plugged into a cheap TV set… right next to you. And he’d done it only after you’d entered your Limitless, taking advantage of your lack of senses to literally bait you like a god damn fish hook and then swoop in to destroy the curse.

His students had been a distraction. A means to force the curse into seeking you out and getting into the open where it could not easily run again. It was the most convoluted, infuriatingly, ridiculous brilliant bullshit you had heard in a long while.

“Pretty clever, yeah? I’ve been practicing my multi-layer tactics.”

“That wasn’t a tactic, it was a gamble and a shitty one at that!”

“Yeah, yeah, but did you die?” Gojo asked, tilting his head to the side. His voice was tinged with amusement and you wondered for a moment if he even remembered you and this was some elaborate “gotcha” twelve years in the making… or if this kind of backhanded backstabbing was common place for him.

“It was interesting to see your technique in action. I could probably give you some tips on how to make it more effective, but they’d be pretty useless to— well. You. So I figure I’ll just make the tweaks and practice it myself!”

You stayed silent.

“What did ya call it? Limitless Telemetry?”

You turned and walked in the opposite direction.

“Whoa— hold on.”

Your exit was cut off, the grinning face you wanted nothing more than to connect your fist into coming back into view.

“I’m kidding. Don’t run off and cry now, we got some other business I wanna discuss.”

“If you’re planning on pitching another mission to me, I pass.”

“Nope. Well— yes. But not like this one.”

You sighed, side stepped, and continued around him again.

“I’ll buy you lunch!”

You stopped.

“And maybe even some kakigōriiiiiiii—“ he continued, his voice lifting to a sing-song tone as he stretched out the word. Your stomach twisted and grumbled in response. Using your Limitless always took so much out of you… a side effect you wondered if he experienced to.

You turned to look back at the man who hadn’t so much as glanced your way in years and wondered again if he was so stupid he didn’t remember who you were or if he was hatching some new plot.

He smiled in what you assumed he thought was a disarming and charming way.

“Fine.”

***

You had settled for a sweet plum flavor, dipping your small wooden spoon into the shaved ice and enjoying the way it melted across your tongue. Flavors always felt more pronounced after you used your Limitless, smells more intense. The sights sharper. It was probably just a placebo effect from being without them, even for a short amount of time, but regardless you enjoyed the sweet flavor and the fruity smell of the different syrups… most of which were coming from Gojo’s own cup.

He had gotten every flavor. The shaved ice in his cup a rainbow of color and tastes as he scooped several together at a time.

The lunch he promised had yet to come, but the treat was enough for now as the sugar helped give a little more pep to your body and your mood. The amount of calories you expended using your gifts was another thing entirely.

The two of you walked a ways in silence, giving you time to observe him for the first time in over a decade.

He had changed, that much you could tell. There was something less harsh in his general demeanor and he had grown considerably since he was fifteen. The boyishness of his face had sharpened, the man overtaking his features. He was broader, less lanky than his teenage self and while his easygoing and devil-may-care attitude was still present, there was something less— edged about it. Less angry.

“Your hair is shorter now,” Gojo said suddenly, “And your chest is bigger.”

You immediately frowned. A look of open disgust flashing over your face. Gojo laughed.

“Thought I forgot about ya, didn’t you?” He slid a thumb over his cheek, the gesture making you flush at the memory of what it felt like to slap the smirk off his face.

“Honestly? Yes.” you answered shortly, taking another bite of your ice.

“Nah. I remember, just figured there was no point in makin’ nice. You seem to be doing fine on your own these days. Second grade, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“As short worded as ever.”

He strode off, forcing you to match his pace. He found a park bench and sat down, sprawling out lazily. You sat next to him at his insistence, knocking your knee into his own until he closed his thighs a bit more with a chuckle.

“Thought you’d be a first grade by now.”

“I have not been recommended.”

He snorted, “Bet you know why.”

You clenched your teeth, holding back a sharp word and an even sharper desire to toss your kakigōri right in his face. Arrogant as ever. Some things, you guessed, did not get better with age.

“The great and fabled Six Eyes holding a grudge over a love tap? How trite.” you said, trying to keep your words indifferent.

“Is that what it was? I had a bruise ya know.”

“You could have stopped my hand before it ever even touched you. You wanted me to slap you so you could get out of having to do anymore meetings.”

His laugh was all the confirmation you needed.

“Is that what you’ve thought all this time?”

“It’s what I know.”

Gojo turned his attention back to his shaved ice, the two of you sitting in silence long enough for the weight of it to become uncomfortable for you. Finally you shifted and scrapped your spoon down the ice, leaving trails of melting syrup.

“What is it that you want?” Because that was what this was about wasn’t it? He wanted something. The main family never disdained to speak to the lower members without a need and Gojo Satoru was not about to be the exception.

“I’m going to recommend you for first-grade sorcerer status.”

You scrapped your spoon through so harshly a chunk of colored ice fumbled down the side of the paper cup and down your hand. You dodged just in time to avoid it landing with a wet smack on your pants.

You gaped openly at him, but Gojo kept his attention fixed on his ice, happily stirring it up into a soupy, syrupy mess.

“… and yet again I ask, what is that you want?”

Gojo leaned back, tilting his face towards you with an easy grin. You wondered if he saw the world the way you did with your Limitless with his eyes shaded. Seeing only the impressions of energy and sensation. Could he see your expression? The confusion in the downturn of your mouth or the suspicion in the narrowness of your eyes?

“Nothing too crazy! Just need a fiancée.”

The breath punched out of your lungs.

***

You waited outside the small convenience store across the street, feeling your cheeks beginning to lessen in redness from both anger and embarrassment at your sudden outburst.

When Gojo returned from inside, his hair was still wet… and there was still some redness from the syrup stuck to the strands. You hadn’t been able to control the impulse to throw your kakigōri at him, the breaking of your composure having flowed directly down your arm. It could have been worse, you supposed. You could have punched him.

He had needed to rinse off his blindfold, the fabric now folded and tucked into his back pocket. He had replaced it with the dark glasses you recognized from his youth, giving you a glimpse of the bright blueness of his eyes every once and awhile.

Gojo sighed and tossed a damp paper towel into a bin and turned to you expectantly. You gingerly handed him back his own dessert, having minded it for him while he went into the men’s room to clean up. It was practically soup now and you winced when he lifted it to his lips and drank it.

“As I was saying—“ he began with a smack of his lips.

“No—”

“—it’s a pretend engagement.”

Your mouth hung open, half ready to utter another refusal, which you swallowed back in as he waited expectantly for you to cease interrupting him.

“You let me take you on a few dates, we put on a show of my courting a potential betrothed and in exchange I green light your promotion.”

You narrowed your eyes, biting the corner of your lip into your mouth in obvious consideration.

“For how long?”

Your directness didn’t seem to offend him. Quite the opposite actually. Every time you curtly dropped a single or few word sentence he seemed to only smile brighter.

Gojo shrugged, “A few months. Maybe more. Until I figure out a permanent solution.”

“Your parents want you to get married?”

“The whole clan wants me to get married, sweetheart. I am the strongest.”

And now came the obvious question.

“Why me?”

Gojo shrugged, “You were one of their first picks to start with, so they’ll approve. And there isn’t a risk of you falling for me…”

His lips upturned into a sly grin, “… too quickly.”

You scoffed.

“Family will back off. I get a bit of peace until I have to kick you to the curb, and you get to be a first-class sorcerer. Everyone wins.”

“I’m not going to fall for you.”

Gojo gave a sad little nod, like he was agreeing with a deluded person in order to keep them calm and reasonable.

Granted, you did just effectively hurl a slushy at him a few minutes prior.

“This seems a bit extreme, even for you. Why do you think I’d even say yes? You know exactly why you got slapped. Can I expect that same level of charm from our future ‘dates’?” you asked, kicking yourself for having implied in your words you knew him well enough to even know what was extreme for him. The comment did not go unnoticed, even with his half expression hidden you could tell his interest was piqued. The last thing you wanted to do was to explain to this insufferable man how his very presence was as constant as the sun. Always nagging in the back of your mind and in your abilities.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“That was awhile ago. Most girls find me pretty charming these days. As to why you’d say yes— given it is probably your best chance at getting to first grade sorcerer status, I can’t think of a reason you wouldn’t.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Fifteen year old you would be outraged, furious. She would not have considered this offer for a second. She would have stamped her foot and told him exactly where he could stick his offer.

But twenty-eight year old you had learned that very often principles were made to be damned.

“And the fact I can tell you are just dying to say yes.”

There was that arrogance again.

“You still buying me lunch?” you countered and the smile he gave you was a bit different than the ones before.

“Wow. No one will even question how I could have been charmed by such a talented freeloader.”

“I am exceedingly charming.”

“And what an arm. You play softball or you just start a lot of food fights as a kid?”

“I want sushi.” You said, the finality of your voice inarguable. You thought he might have rolled his eyes, but nevertheless you got your lunch and even managed to bargain a single day to think about the offer.

[wearywinchester]

Something Old and Something New — Part Four

Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When life takes a turn and you take an unexpected break from college in Stanford with your best friend Sam, you return home to your job at your family’s co-owned garage. You return home to work alongside the guy you thought you hated—Dean Winchester.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: angst, swearing, guilt, arguing, light fluff

Your grip on the wheel was tight as you parked along the curb, the pressure behind your eyes having been near unbearable as your eyes glossed over with new tears. Tears of complete and utter frustration as your heart hammered in your chest. You put your car in park and got out, slamming the door behind you. Your footfalls were hurried and you paid no mind to the way you’d jammed your keys in the door, twisting the knob before pushing it open.

You drew a startled look from Sam who’d been sitting on the living room couch, textbook in his lap and his hand running through his hair. He sat up straighter, brows furrowed in an instant as he looked at you. Angry, frustrated you.

“Everything okay?” He asked, though he finds the question pointless the second it leaves his lips because it’s very clear what the answer is. “What happened?”

“Your brother’s an idiot, Sam,” you huff, lip quivering despite the anger in your words.

The crease between his brows deepens at your words, confusion in his expression as he thinks it over just what Dean could have done now. He knew his brother had a way of getting on your nerves, of pushing your buttons in a way Dean Winchester did—but he’s never seen you this upset from any of that, never seen you this worked up.

You saw the way he’d opened and closed his mouth a couple times over, trying to figure out just what to ask first, where to even start. But you spoke up before he did.

“I think,” you start, heaving a sigh as you settle your racing heart a little more, easing the anger in your tone for Sam’s sake. It wasn’t his fault after all. “I think I need to be alone for a little while.”

He nods then, gaze on you as he watches the emotions flicker across your face, exhaling a sigh of his own as he watches you turn on your heel and leave. You disappear around the corner and toss your keys on the kitchen table, headed straight for the door to the back porch.

You sat in your usual seat, tucked in the corner of the porch as cover yourself with the blanket you’d snagged on your way out the door. It’d been quiet out there, peaceful despite the noise in your mind, the events that happened not even half an hour earlier having been caught in your thoughts in a loop.

You thought it’d been obvious, with the way you’d grown closer to the older Winchester over the last few weeks. You found yourself realizing you hated him less than you thought you did for a long while, and maybe you didn’t hate him at all. It took coming back home to see that maybe there was something there between you for longer than the time you’d been back home.

You thought it was obvious, thought so the moment you realized things were different between you two.

But apparently it hadn’t been, not with the way jealousy had wrapped around his every feeling, the way anger had been a close second that day. Never mind the fact that he almost kissed you at Benny’s barbecue, or the way he seemed to enjoy your company.

He was too oblivious to see it the way you felt, too jealous to think rationally about it.

Meanwhile, Dean remained at the garage, simmering in his overflowing frustration. His mind was stuck on the words he’d spoken to you, taunting and woven with anger. He’d told you to go ahead and leave, he encouraged it even. He paid no mind to the hurt so clear in your eyes because he was jealous when he shouldn’t have been, so wound up in the overwhelming idea that he had feelings for you, true feelings that he’d gone and pushed you away.

The idea terrified him, to genuinely care for something, to enjoy their presence, to seek them out and to miss them when they’re gone. The thought of the feelings he had for you, vulnerable and fond, it scared the life out of him. So, he did what he always did and found a way to sabotage it.

He truly did feel as though you had fond feelings for his brother, there was no reason for you not to. But now, as he stands there by himself with his hands dragging down his face, standing with a mess of tools having been splayed and scattered across the concrete of the garage, he’s starting to think that maybe he was wrong.

He’d gone and let his temper get the very best of him, his mind running a mile a minute with thoughts all revolving around you. But he found they always did, they always did for a long while and he knows it.

He’d hovered over the idea of calling you at least a dozen times that night, deciding against it each and every time.

You don’t know just how much time had passed as you sat there on that porch, the sun dipping deeper and deeper into the horizon. The lightning bugs had flickered across the lawn, crickets chirping and filling the quiet in the evening air.

But soon they’d been accompanied by something else, by something more familiar as your heart skipped a beat.

You heard that engine, could tell just who it belonged to from a mile away. You heard it rumble and roar as it approached your apartment. Heard it continue to rattle lowly as it sat there for a minute or two. Your heart hammered as you sat in your chair, the inside of your cheek between your teeth.

He knew exactly where you’d be, knew you were on that porch without even seeing you. It was a place you always went to when you were stressed or upset, sitting in that chair for a good while until you felt better. Now it was him that was the cause and he hated it, he hated that feeling more than anything.

He sat there for another brief minute before you heard that rumble once more, before you heard that ever familiar roar as he pulled away and drove down your street. Your jaw tensed as you felt the tears burn and gloss over your eyes once more, a huff puffing out through your nose.

Instead, he’d gone back to the garage, gone back to clean up the mess he made despite the fact that he knew he should have cleaned up the mess he made with you.

You stayed out there in your usual seat, stayed until the sun had gone down completely and the drowsiness crept up. Stayed until fatigue weighed heavy on your eyelids until they fell closed, and stayed until Sam had come to check on you, finding you fast asleep in the chair. His shoulders slumped at the sight and a sigh left his lips, lips that purse for a moment at the sight of his best friend having looked so miserable.

He scooped you up, blanket and all, and put you to bed for the night before disappearing into his room.

You had one day left at the garage, one day before you left. The past week had been just as you’d imagined, the tension thicker than ever with each passing shift and it became harder and harder to bear.

You hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to Dean, not more than that outside of work talk anyway. The tension set the tone for the entire garage—for Benny, for Bobby, for the customers who’d been lucky enough to come in when Dean was in close proximity to you.

There wasn’t much of any small talk, the days having gone by with just the noise of the radio and the occasional string of curses from Dean when something went wrong on a car. It drove you nearly crazy to be so close, close enough that it had your heart aching and your jaw tensing in an attempt not to cry, in an attempt not to shout at the older Winchester for breaking it.

You should have known better, you should have known better than to let yourself fall for him. He was stubborn as ever and there was no changing that but you knew it’d be a long while before you got over it.

It was a week full of lingering stares and long pauses as one tried to fill the silence with some sort of conversation before the other left with the excuse of having something else to do. It’d been a week of angry huffs and a week of Benny driving you crazy with the suggestion of talking to each other in a way that wasn’t so much of a struggle.

It was your last day of it, and you can’t decide if you’re relieved or dreadful, or both.

You sat in your chair at the front desk, head leaning on your hand as you rested your elbow on the counter. Nobody had said a word in the past hour and a half, the rest of your lunch having gone cold until you’d called it quits and dumped it in the trash.

Now, you were sat at your desk with your book cracked open, having very obviously been stuck on the same page for the last fifteen or twenty minutes because you were too busy thinking about green eyes over there. It was bad enough he knew you hadn’t actually been reading. He knew it because his gaze wandered over to you and lingered more than a few times in that span of time.

It almost got him in trouble, almost having him cut his palm with his inability to pay attention to the task at hand, grabbing the wrench he had clasped between his teeth and putting it to use as he tried to keep his mind on his work.

It was another few minutes until he spoke up.

“Would you mind giving me a hand over here?” You lifted your head from your palm, gaze shifting over to him as you narrowed your gaze slightly. He could sense your hesitation. “Benny and Bobby left and it’d be easier if I had an extra set of hands.”

You breathe out a huff after a moment and close your unread book, standing from your chair. When you stood just a mere foot away he held out his hand, the lug nuts to the last tire he had to rotate having been in it. You opened your hand with a sigh and he dropped them in your palm.

“You did the other three by yourself, why can’t you do this one?” You ask, brow raised and lips pursed.

He chuckles then, humorless as he shakes his head. “Like I said, easier with an extra set of hands.”

You roll your eyes and watch as he squats down, lifting the tire with ease as his jaw tenses under his weight. You give him the first one when he’s ready for it, and you try your hardest to ignore the way his hand brushes against yours. You try to ignore the way your skin feels like it’s been set on fire in the wake of his touch no matter how brief it’d been.

You turned your head and looked away for a moment as he worked, swallowing thickly as the radio did its best to ease the quiet tension.

He took it upon himself to grab the next one from your palm when he saw you hadn’t been paying attention, the tips of his fingers brushing against your skin. You straightened your stance and had the rest at the ready after that, desperate to avoid those moments of contact otherwise your heart just might burst with agony.

He grabs his impact drill from the workbench and tightens them in place, securing the tire once more. He spins the wheel for good measure, giving it a pat or two before he snags the rag from his pocket, swiping it across his forehead and the back of his neck and wiping away the sweat.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he says.

You notice the way his words falter for a moment, unaware that sweetheart was on the very tip of his tongue just ready to be spoken until he’d caught himself.

You simply nod and his jaw tenses when you walk away, his hand running through his hair before dragging down his face. You barely make it halfway to your desk before he’s speaking up.

“You want me to drive you home?” He calls after you.

He’d driven you this morning, something he offered when the battery to your own car had died. He’d stopped by to drop something off, something trivial and he knew it was stupid. He knew it was far-fetched but he found he just wanted to see you, even if he was being that stubborn idiot he knew himself to be right now.

But he gave you a ride this morning, a quiet drive filled with side glances to the other and the radio put on low, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he drove the two of you to work that morning.

You thought it over for a few fleeting moments, your gaze on your feet before it lifted to him. “Sam’s picking me up.”

You look away just as quickly as you walk behind your desk, stuffing your things in your bag as you grab your sweater from the back of your chair. You fail to see his nod and the way his jaw tenses, you fail to see the way he swallowed thickly as he bites the inside of his cheek. He’s angry at himself and he’s the one to blame for it, he knows that and that blame simmers in the forefront of his mind.

His gaze lingers on you as you sling your bag over your shoulder, pushing the door open and walking out. He looks at the space you once stood in, watching as the door closes behind you with a click.

You hadn’t been there for six days, nearly a week. It was your last day in Kansas and he knew it. He knew it and he wouldn’t let himself forget it no matter how hard he tried to. The very thought of you leaving had weighed heavy on his mind, heavier with each passing minute, hour, day.

He couldn’t let you leave, didn’t want to, but he doesn’t know if he can find the words to say.

It’s noticeable when you’re gone, more than obvious. The garage is dull and quiet, no matter how loud he played Zeppelin on that radio. It didn’t have your smile and it didn’t have your laugh to remind him to lighten up when a tough repair had him frustrated. It didn’t have the sound of your voice whether it’d been you throwing lighthearted jests and quips his way, or if it was when you answered the phone with that smile that makes him forget what he’s doing for a few fleeting moments.

There wasn’t the sound of your voice when you sang along to the songs on the radio under your breath as you sat with your feet up on your desk, your book in your lap when things were slow. Or the way you patched him up when he busted up his hands when he wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing because he was too distracted with you. The way you know your way around a car and make him look like a fool sometimes when he’s working on a repair he can’t quite figure out.

It’s far beyond noticeable that you’re not here, it’s always been noticeable when you’re gone and he can’t think of anything worse of a feeling than looking over to that front desk and finding it empty. Each and every time he looks over there it’s always the same and every time it has his jaw tensing.

He tries his hardest not to fall for anyone, not to get attached for this very reason. He feels like if it were anyone else it wouldn’t be half as bad, but you’re not just anyone. You’re so much more than that and damn does this hurt.

“Dean,” Benny calls out for the third time, his brows furrowed at him.

Dean looks to him from where he stands hovered over the hood of the car he’s working on, the crease between his brows returning. He clears his throat as he stands up straight, brushing his hands off.

“What’s up?”

“I’ve been callin’ your name for that past two minutes,” Benny says, brow raised in curiosity.

“Oh,” he says, nodding his head as a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth in hopes to stave off the brunette’s curious gaze, shrugging his shoulders. “Guess I didn’t hear you.”

He nodded, lips puckering in thought as he eyes the older Winchester with a squint.

“Guess not.” His gaze remained on Dean as he looked back at the task at hand, the one he hadn’t been paying attention to for that last who knows how long. “Darryl called. You got an inspection appointment tomorrow for his truck.”

“Great,” Dean says, tone indifferent and on the cusp of being distracted as he wipes down the bit of oil he spilled.

Benny’s lips pursed, his eyes lingering on Dean for a moment as he took in his expression. Dean could feel his stare, knew full well that Benny caught on to the way he was acting. To the way he was too distracted for his own good. It’s not like it wasn’t painfully obvious, he was sure that anyone in the world who looked at him could tell his mind was elsewhere.

Benny knew and that much was obvious, but Dean had been hoping he’d drop it, had been holding his breath in hopes that he’d leave it at that and move onto something else.

A wave of relief went through him when he’d seen Benny turn and walk away out of the corner of his eye, huffing out a quiet sigh through his nose. It was something that was short lived though, because after a few beats of silence he turned back on his heel with the words on the tip of his tongue, questions just ready to be asked.

“What’s going on with you?” He asked, Dean’s eyes closing as he leaned his hand on the edge of the front end.

He can’t say he didn’t see this coming, he saw it from a mile away. He dipped his head down a fraction as his tongue swiped over his lip, taking it between his teeth for a moment as he squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Benny,” he says, turning his head to spare him a glance with pursed lips.

Benny tilted his head to the side and gave him a look, his arms crossing over his chest and Dean mirrored it. “It’s taken you an hour to finish a twenty minute job, Winchester. That ain’t like you.”

“Every car is different, it’s not gonna be a piece of cake every time. Stuff goes wrong sometimes,” he shrugs, irritation simmering in his tone.

“I know damn well that’s not the case.”

“Do you, Benny?” Deans asks, voice raising a fraction as he tosses his wrench on the workbench to his left.

He’s quiet for a moment then, heaving a sigh as he looks at the green eyed mechanic with a squinted look. He sees how touchy Dean is, how easy it is to get under his skin. He’s been like that the past week and a half, nearly two. He’s known him for a long time, knows him better than he thinks and he knows exactly what’s for him acting so differently.

He knows.

“It’s Y/n, isn’t it?” He asks, straight to the point and it has Dean stiffening, has him tensing at your name.

“What?” He asks, and his defensiveness is clear as day.

“Don’t play dumb with me, boy,” he starts, watching Dean’s jaw clench, watching the crease between his brows stiffen. “I saw you two that night, I saw you by the fire and it doesn’t take a genius to know that there’s something there. You can lie to me all you want and act like you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about but I know she’s on your mind.”

Dean rolls his eyes now, a humorless laugh leaving his lips as the anger bubbles in the pit of his stomach. He cares about Benny, he does, but right now all he’s doing is pushing his buttons in a way that’s fueling his frustration.

“You know what, Benny? You can go right ahead and think what you want, that’s fine by me. But it’s not really your business. You’re wrong,” Dean says, finger pointed at him before his hand drops to his side.

“She told me what happened, Dean.”

He freezes in his spot, jaw more tense than ever as he swallows thickly. His stare is narrowed on Benny, hard and angry as his fists clench and relax and he finds he has to look away otherwise he just might crack.

So he does. He turns away from him and runs a hand down his face, thoughts of you flashing through his mind as if they hadn’t done so all day every day for the past who knows how long. He doesn’t need that lecture right now, doesn’t need to be told of the colossal mistake he knows he’s made because it’ll only light the fuse and make everything worse. It’ll only deepen the anger and regret he’s got searing within him till he bursts.

“You miss her, don’t you?” He asks, voice quieter than before.

Dean laughs again to himself, quiet and bitter as his hands stay planted on the workbench. He swallows as the question taunts him, replaying in his mind in a loop. He misses you more than anything, hell, he missed you since the moment you walked out that door that day.

But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t say a single word as he turns in his heel, laying down the stand to the car’s hood before letting it fall closed with a slam. He can hear Benny’s chuckle, one in response to just how stupid he’s being, to just how stubborn he really is. He can’t say he’s surprised, he’s been this strong willed and stubborn for as long as he can remember. It’s ridiculous and he knows it, and he’d be stupid not to give it one more try.

He eyes the older Winchester with a narrowed glance, a sigh leaving his lips as he watches him busy himself with work that didn’t need to be done.

His gaze lingers for a moment, lips pursed and brows furrowed. Benny moves to turn away, even takes a step or two away from him before he turns back around.

“Dean?”

He turns his head, avoiding Benny’s gaze as he waits for him to talk.

“What you do is your choice, you know that. But I suggest you stop bein’ so damn stubborn and realize what you’ve got before it’s gone. Do me a favor and quit bein’ an idiot.”

With that he walks away, leaving Dean to stand by himself. That anger is still very much there, that frustration stronger than ever as the regret eats away at him. He’s got the urge to sweep all those tools on the floor once more, his chest tight as he jaw tenses. And that glance over to the clock on the wall didn’t make it a single bit better.

“Son of a bitch,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, crossing the garage with quick steps as he snags his keys.

You sigh as you look around your room, scratching the back of your neck as you try and see if you’ve got anything else to add to your bags, to see if you’re missing anything. A part of you is stalling, you know you are. You don’t want to leave home and you don’t think going back to Stanford is in your best interest, not really.

Half of your decision is fueled by your spite towards the older Winchester, to leave just because you said you would. The other half is filled with indecision, filled with the worry that you might regret not finishing your degree. You felt like you owed yourself that much, you did. But you felt that dread in the pit of your stomach at the thought of putting yourself through another year of it, another year of something you didn’t have your heart set on and you knew you couldn’t do that.

It was another conversation to have with Sam, another decision you’d have to make that had your stomach knotting with nerves. Something that’d been the last thing you wanted to do, the last thing you wanted to think about.

But you couldn’t put it off, couldn’t do that forever.

You spun on your heel after giving your room another once over with a sigh, knowing full well there wasn’t anything more you needed for Stanford that wasn’t already over there. Nothing more that you needed other than the clothes and belongings you brought with you when you came home all those weeks ago.

You paced through the hall and down the stairs, your last duffel bag in your hand as you make your way to the living room. All of your bags and suitcases had been stacked by the front door, packed and ready to go as Sam’s had sat there with them.

You swallowed thickly at the sight of them, biting the inside of your cheek in a nervous habit. It only made things all the more real, only solidified the idea that you were leaving again for another few months until you’d come back to visit. Only solidified the thought of going back to law school for one more year.

You exhaled a shaky side as you shook out your hands, pacing around the living room. Sam was gone to say his goodbyes to everyone, something you’d already done the night before. He was gone and he’d be back any minute with Bobby. Then you’d go to the airport and get dropped off together and go back. You’d go back to your second home that just didn’t feel quite so good as this one.

The thought had your nerves swirling in your stomach, twisting and churning as you ran your hands down your face. You were twenty-four still acting like you were eighteen, acting like quitting law school would be the worst thing in the world. You knew there was no rush, no timeline, but the stress of it all was weighing heavy.

The thought of leaving home again, leaving everything for a little while, the thought of the older Winchester was weighing heavier on your mind.

You quit your pacing and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. You filled it with water and drank it down, your teeth sinking into your lip as you closed your eyes for a brief moment.

The ring of the doorbell had your heart jumping in your chest, had it hammering once more. It was time to go and you knew it, there was no more stalling, no more thinking it over. No more putting it off because it was happening now. You were going back for a little while and this was it.

You exhaled a shaky breath as you put your empty glass in the sink, making your way to the door as a couple knocks sounded. Your gaze lingered on your bags by the door for a moment longer, a moment longer before you had to put them in the back of Bobby’s car.

After a beat of hesitation, you twisted the door knob, swinging it open. Your breath hitched in your throat, mouth going dry as your gaze falls on him, his stare moving up from his boots as you meet those green eyes you’d get to stop thinking about. You swallow thickly as your heart flips once more, lips parting.

His expression is hard to read as he stands there with a look to mirror yours, his tongue swiping over his lips in a nervous habit. He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck before his hand falls back down to his side. You glance around him to the Impala parked haphazardly and crooked along the curb, a rushed attempt at parking. And then your eyes flicker back to him, back to the Winchester who’s mouth had been opening and closing a couple times in an attempt to figure out just what he wanted to say.

You were ready to go, as ready as you’ll ever be—and now your plans were put in a tailspin as your mind and your heart spiraled in a frenzy as Dean Winchester stood in front of you once more.

—

Series Taglist: @myloversgone @colereads @stoneyggirl2 @samsgirl93 @poptart06294

General Taglist: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @taikawho

[marjansmarwani]

maybe, I’m afraid 

3.8k || ao3

Episode 2x06, but with Carlos (as it should have been)

Just me here again to give Carlos the screen time he should have had. 

A little late to the party maybe (I have no idea how you all manage to get fics up within 24 hours of the episode, I am in awe of that ability) but I still felt the need to make my contribution.

--------

Most days Carlos was pretty sure that after 7 years on the force he had seen everything there was to see. 

Other days he got a call to respond to two teenagers trapped in a homemade minefield and he was forced to reevaluate that sentiment. 

It doesn’t take long to figure out all there is to know, including just how bad it really is, and by the time the familiar ladder truck pulled up (because of course it was the 126) he was waiting outside the passenger door to give Owen the rundown. 

“Officer Reyes,” he greeted when he saw him, “I’m surprised to see you. I thought this would be a little out of your jurisdiction.” 

Carlos shook his head, “Just barely within it, another half-mile and the sheriffs would be handling the call.”

“But you managed to snag it, lucky you.”

“Can’t say I would have been too upset if I had missed out on this one,” Carlos agreed drily. 

Owen hummed in agreement as he surveyed the scene, “What are we looking at, exactly?”  

It was a bleak picture: two brothers, trapped. One injured, both scared and stuck in an active minefield without a map. And the bomb squad was at least 40 minutes out. He saw his concern reflected on Owen’s face as he considered the situation and all the implications. If they waited, the boy would die. If they went in, he would be possibly sending some of his people to die too. 

And yet Carlos knew what choice he was going to make before he even opened his mouth. He had learned so many things during his time with TK, and one of them was that in so many ways he and his dad were a lot alike. If it were his call, TK wouldn’t have been able to leave those boys in there either. So when the instruction came, he wasn’t surprised. 

“We’re going to need the heaviest duffel we can find and spray paint - the brighter the better.”

Carlos locked eyes with TK briefly as he and the rest of his team turned to start gathering supplies, giving him a smile and hoping that it conveyed everything he wanted him to know: it would be alright, no matter what. 

He almost believed it too. 

All was calm at the start, the 126 functioning like the well-oiled machine they were. In no time they were prepped and Owen was striding back towards the ambulance, asking the new guy if he was ready to go. The discussion quickly transformed into an argument and Carlos couldn’t help but glance back over at the minefield and the brothers. Every moment they argued was one less moment these boys had. Carlos was considering stepping in when a new voice entered the discussion, effectively bringing the escalating argument to a halt. 

“I’ll go.” 

And Carlos froze because he knew that voice. He would know it anywhere, it drew him like a moth to a flame in any room. He turned slowly to find TK standing slightly apart from his crew, stance relaxed but jaw set in determination. 

“I was a dual function FD medic in New York,” he explained, voice calm and firm, “all my certifications are up to date. I can do this.” 

Carlos didn’t need to be looking at him, didn’t need to see where his gaze shifted to know that those last words were directed at his dad. The knowledge made Carlos’s heart ache. The fact that his boyfriend still felt the need to prove himself to his dad after all this time and all he had accomplished killed him, but the thought of TK willingly walking into the minefield killed him even more. 

But it wasn’t his choice to make and when Owen nodded, he felt a cold dread spread throughout his body. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. Today was not supposed to be the day he watched his boyfriend walk into an active minefield. That day was never supposed to come, and yet here it was. 

He walked over to where TK was switching out his gear, struggling with a strap that was twisting over his shoulder. He reached out for the strap without a word, smoothing it out and snapping it in place. They didn’t speak as Carlos stepped back, surveying the harness and gear for any other twists or issues. 

“It’s going to be fine, Carlos.” 

TK’s voice, soft and reassuring, broke the silence and Carlos met his eyes sharply. He wanted so desperately to believe him, but there was a field filled with explosives that had already claimed one life today behind them and he was finding it hard to be optimistic. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked instead. 

TK pulled his helmet on, his steady gaze never leaving Carlos, “Of course I’m sure, the kid’s going to die if we don’t go out there, Carlos. I need to help if I can.” 

Carlos reached down to grab his medical bag and held it out to him. He didn’t like the thought of the man he loved purposefully putting himself in harm’s way, but he also knew TK. As much as he might hate it sometimes, this was TK: always ready to help, always willing to put himself at risk if it meant saving someone else, and there was nothing Carlos could do to change that. And he wouldn’t want to - it was a part of TK that made him who he was: someone that Carlos loved with all his heart. 

When TK reached out to take the bag from him, he didn’t release it immediately. He let his grip linger for an extra moment as he studied TK, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Just, be careful,” he told him softly. TK gave him a small smile, and Carlos released his grip on the bag, allowing TK to walk away, towards the minefield. He was still watching as he ascended the ladder that would drop him out onto the minefield when he felt the presence of others appearing at his side. 

“He’ll be okay kid,” Judd said quietly, eyes never leaving the sight of the two Strands climbing to the end of the ladder. 

“You don’t know that Judd,” Carlos responded just as quietly, already feeling his fingernails digging into his palm as he clenched his hands at his side. 

“No,” the older man agreed softly, “I don’t. But I do know they’ll be as careful as they can.” 

Carlos nodded, eyes tracking every movement desperately. They had reached the edge of the ladder now and he watched as Owen tossed down the duffel, as they both reeled back in preparation for an explosion. He could feel his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat as they waited, but there was only silence and after a moment, he allowed himself to breathe again. 

“I don’t know if my heart can take this,” Paul lamented from his left, “that was nerve-wracking and they still have a long way to go.” 

Carlos nodded wearily, but caught his retort before it slipped out of his mouth: if they made it that far. He didn’t need to release that idea into the universe and the others didn’t need to hear it. So he swallowed it and continued watching. Each and every movement they made was agonizing to watch, but each and every thud of them landing unharmed gave him a moment to catch his breath, a brief reprieve for his heart to beat normally. They had settled into a rhythm, and everything was going smoothly. 

Until it wasn’t. 

The sound of the mine exploding filled the air around them and worked its way into Carlos’s soul. It sent shockwaves through his body as he watched, desperately trying to see through the haze of smoke and debris. He couldn’t see him, he didn’t know if he was okay. 

That fact was more than enough to bring on the fear. It attacked him with a vengeance, freezing him to the spot. He felt as if the whole world froze in that moment; suspending him in the terror of not knowing, trapping him with doubt and fear. 

And then he heard TK’s voice, and he could breathe again. It might just be the most wonderful thing he had ever heard. 

When Owen’s voice sounded across the radios, confirming that they were both in one piece, time picked back up at its usual pace. He felt himself sag in relief, grateful for the knowing and supportive hand on his shoulder from Judd. He spared a glance at the others, seeing his relief reflected on their faces and in their stances. 

Marjan let out a long breath, “That was…” 

“Intense,” Paul agreed grimly, “let’s never do that again.” 

They all nodded, and Carlos couldn’t agree more. 

If there was an upside to that moment it was that the path forward was now clear and the two Strands made quick work of the rest of the journey, closing the distance between them and the boys in seconds. Carlos watched in awe as TK slipped into medic mode the moment he reached the boys’ sides, calmly managing the scene and taking care of the patient. It was a wonder to watch. He handled it all with focus and compassion, quietly reassuring the boys even as he gave instructions to his dad and administered care. He was cool and steady even as he delivered the lifesaving compressions, forcing the teen’s blood to pump through his veins with his own hands. It was only minutes before his voice sounded over the radio, announcing that the injured boy was stable and no amount of fear or worry could have stopped the intense pride Carlos felt in that moment. 

“Kid’s got some skills,” Judd observed with a fond smile and Carlos could only grin. 

Paul nodded, “Looks like someone’s been holding out on us, that was pretty impressive I must admit.” 

“Badass is more like it!” Mateo exclaimed and Marjan, standing next to him, laughed even as she placed a hand on his arm. 

“Steady Probie,” she reminded him, “they still have to get out of there. Let’s not jinx anything.”

Her words tempered the celebratory mood of the group, but even though Carlos had never let go of that fear (he knew he wouldn’t until TK was out of the minefield and at least 2 miles away) it felt different from before. It was wrapped in that pride now, and even as Carlos watched them prep to move and the bomb squad moved out to locate and detonate any mines along the path, he couldn’t shake that. It was almost stronger than the fear now, this pride he felt for TK. That was his boyfriend; the person who had just saved two young brothers in the middle of a minefield was the man he loved. Just when he thought that he had come to know every bit of his body and soul, he managed to surprise him all over again. 

It took every ounce of restraint and professionalism Carlos had to not rush over to TK the moment he cleared the edge of the minefield. He forced himself to wait, focusing on his own job while keeping a watchful eye on TK as he reported back to Captain Vega, as he got an exam from the new paramedic. It wasn’t until he headed back to the ladder truck that Carlos broke away from the crowd, meeting him at the side of the engine. TK looked up as he approached, a smile on his face and a greeting on his lips, but Carlos pulled him into his arms before he even had a chance to speak. 

He held him tightly, savoring the feeling of his breath on his collar and the faint sound of the beating of his heart. His familiar scent filled Carlos’s head with each breath and he closed his eyes. He would have been happy to stand there forever, feeling this and just being them and while he knew they couldn’t, he was determined to have at least a few moments more before the world interrupted. If nothing else, the universe at least owed him this. 

“I’m okay Carlos,” TK said evenly, his voice muffled against Carlos’s shoulder. 

But you almost weren’t. The words rang through his head, but he didn’t speak them. Instead he pulled away just enough to see TK’s face as he asked, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” TK assured him firmly, placing a steady hand on his chest, “the new medic looked me over but I could have told you anyway, I’m fine. Not injured, my dad and I both made it out and so did the boys. This was a win Carlos, I’m more than okay.” 

And he was, Carlos saw as he studied him. He was beaming; enthusiasm pouring out of him. His eyes were alight with something Carlos couldn’t name and he was practically vibrating. Despite everything, Carlos couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He was still worried, still terrified by all the ‘what ifs,” but seeing TK like this gave him a lightness he couldn’t have imagined feeling even a few minutes before. 

He shook his head, trying to mask his smile with little success, “I am glad you’re so pleased with yourself, considering you almost gave the rest of us a heart attack.” 

He had been going for a joke but he instantly regretted it when TK dimmed, “I’m sorry,” he told him sincerely, “I didn’t mean to scare you guys, especially you. I just knew I could help…” 

Carlos interrupted him, moving his hands so they were on each of TK’s shoulders, “You have nothing to apologize for Ty,” he assured him firmly, “you did the right thing. You saved a kid’s life and you did amazing. I am so proud of you.” 

TK’s smile returned, softer than before but still glowing with pride, “You are, are you?” 

Carlos leaned down to place a soft and tender kiss on his forehead, “I am. So incredibly proud. You’re a pretty impressive guy, you know that?”

TK’s smile could have lit up the world and Carlos would have been happy to let it. But they were both still on the job and decidedly not alone, as they were suddenly reminded when Paul peaked around the side of the engine. He smirked at them before calling over his shoulder, “Yeah, they’re decent back here, you guys can come around.” 

Carlos rolled his eyes at his friend while TK casually flipped him off. Paul crossed towards them, completely unfazed before reaching out and pulling TK into a hug of his own. “You can’t keep scaring me like that man,” he told TK when they pulled apart, “I’m getting too old for that crap.” 

TK rolled his eyes at his teammate and Carlos chuckled. He looked behind him to see the rest of the team materializing. 

“That’s my cue,” he told TK, “I need to get back to work and get this scene wrapped up anyways. I’ll see you at home later?” 

TK nodded, reaching out to squeeze his hand, “I’ll be there right after my shift.” 

“Think you can make it until then without nearly dying on me again?” 

“I’ll do my best,” TK assured him and Carlos smiled. 

“That’s all I ask,” he responded, “I love you.” 

“Love you too, Carlos.” 

Carlos smiled at that, the warmth he felt every time he heard those words from TK rushing through him. With one last squeeze of the hand holding his own, he stepped away, letting TK’s team get in their time. As he reached the corner of the engine he looked back, still feeling the whirlwind of emotions deep in his chest. 

But TK was safe and happy - he couldn’t ask for anything more. So he turned the corner and returned to the task at hand. 

----------

“You know, that call today? It felt good, really good.” 

Carlos looked up from his dinner sharply to see TK idly playing with his, his focus clearly elsewhere. “Please don’t tell me this means you have decided to become a real-life minesweeper, I am going to have some objections to that,” Carlos deadpanned. 

TK laughed lightly, shaking his head, “No, not quite.” 

“Thank god, I don’t think my heart could handle that.” 

TK shook his head fondly at Carlos before his expression grew more pensive, “I didn’t mean the minefield, or even the danger or adrenaline. I meant the saving the boy part. I know I do that all the time as a firefighter, but there’s something different about doing it as a medic. I haven’t had the chance to really do any medical calls since moving to Austin, with the way the department is structured.” 

“You’ve never really talked about it before,” Carlos noted, “I’ve seen you do medical stuff in the field, but before today I didn’t even know you were dual certified.” 

TK shrugged, “It just never really came up, I guess. It’s pretty typical in New York, but their firehouses are structured differently. I guess once I made my peace with being down here I never really thought about it again. It’s not like I could do both the same way I used to.” 

His tone was almost wistful as he turned his gaze down to his plate, but Carlos had a feeling he wasn’t really seeing the food on it. “Sounds like you miss it,” he ventured after a few more moments of silence. 

“Sometimes I do.” 

“So why not go for it?” 

TK looked at him sharply, but Carlos just shrugged, “What? You’ve spent most of the past hour talking about it and you mentioned how the new guy quit and there’s an opening on the paramedic team within your first 10 minutes of showing up tonight. I know you and I know you’re already thinking about it, so why not try it?” 

“Even if I applied, there are so many other candidates. There’s no saying she’d pick me.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. She knows you and how dedicated you are to your job. She saw you in action today, willing to take the risk that someone else wasn’t in order to save a patient. You did the job well and you did it under insane pressure after months of not doing it. If I were her, I’d be wondering what you’d be capable of on an average day.”  

TK looked startled at the efficient takedown of his doubts, but Carlos just raised an eyebrow, “Next?” 

He would dismantle his boyfriend’s doubts with logic one by one if need be. Whatever it took for him to start believing in himself the way Carlos did. 

“I’d have to leave the team,” he said softly, “I wouldn’t be working with them anymore. We’re like a family, I can’t just leave them.” 

Carlos reached across the table to take TK’s hand in his own, “It’s not like you’d be leaving the station,” he reminded him, “you’d still be in the same building and on the same schedule. And they’re not going to feel like you abandoned them, Ty, they’ll still be right there. And right here,” he added with a laugh, gesturing towards his living room, “we’ve fed them, I don’t think we are ever going to get rid of them now.” 

That pulled a smile out of TK, but there was still so much doubt in his eyes that it hurt Carlos to see it. 

“What do you think they would say, if you told them it was something you wanted?” he asked instead, “Do you think they would tell you to forget about it? To stay with them because it was more comfortable?” 

“No,” TK said quickly, “of course they wouldn’t.” 

“So why are you worried about them? They want what’s best for you and they always will. Unless,” he hedged when TK’s expression didn’t clear, “they’re not the ones you’re worried about.” TK pulled his gaze up from the table and Carlos saw all the confirmation in them that he needed, “Your dad?” 

TK nodded, and Carlos sighed. “TK…”

“It would be a big change Carlos,” he said softly. “Except for my probationary period, I have always worked with my dad. I don’t want him to take it personally.” 

“But it is a little personal, isn’t it?” 

He was careful to keep his tone even, non-judgemental and he watched TK closely, waiting for his response. 

“Maybe a little, yeah,” TK admitted. “I feel like this would be a way for me to really see who I am without him right there. It’s not like this is a reaction to him or any news he may have shared recently,” he added hastily, “I would hope I’m past the ‘blowing my life up to piss off my dad’ point, but it is something to consider. And…” 

He trailed off, but Carlos had a feeling he knew what was going to come next, “And you’re worried he might take it personally?” he suggested. 

TK nodded and Carlos sighed and set down his fork, reaching across the table again to pull both of TK’s hands into his own, “Look,” he began, “what’s important is why you’re thinking about this. So, what is it? Why are you thinking about becoming a paramedic?” 

“Because I think I’d love it,” TK said without any hesitation, “because I feel like it’s the best way I can help people.” 

Carlos smiled at him, squeezing the hands in his grasp softly, “Then I think you have your answer. You should do this because it is what you want and because it is right for you. That’s all that matters. Everything else - and everyone else - will fall into place.” 

“And if they don’t?” TK asked softly, and Carlos felt a pang in his heart at the sound of so much doubt in the other man’s voice. 

“They will,” Carlos assured him. “Nothing ever stays the same, remember? And your dad knows that. We all know that. And,” he added, leaning forward in his seat to close some of the distance between them, “I will be here for you, every step of the way. No matter what.”  

The smile TK gave him warmed every inch of his body. They sat in companionable silence for a while, intertwined hands connecting them across the table until TK spoke again. 

“If you really mean that,” he began with a grin, “I could probably use some help with my resume.” 

“Anything for you,” Carlos quipped back, but even as he said the words he squeezed their clasped hands. He meant that, in every way possible. He would be here for resumes and job interviews and everything in between, as long as TK wanted him to be. 

Judging by the way TK met his eyes, and the soft ‘thank you’ that fell from his lips, he had a feeling he felt the same way too. 

[manyfictionsmusings]

Pull Me Like A Ripcord

Summary:

This story takes place immediately after the events of X-Men Apocalypse, where Peter decides against going back to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, despite seeking his father’s attention prior. This fic will just be growing and “mutating” as I write but promising lots of Dad/son angst, hurt/comfort etc.

Chapter 1: AfterEffects

As naïve as it was, Peter had hoped Erik would somehow realize he was his son, now that idea seemed cold and stupid. Why would Erik magically know who he was? He wasn’t Charles, a mind reader, and this wasn’t a fantasy kingdom where the orphan got his father in the end of the story.

Peter pulled his legs up to his chest, or at least he would have if he could have moved his shattered knee, the pain, coupled with the emotional turmoil of the long day sent him easily to tears. He wasn’t used to losing, he wasn’t used to being physically injured. The finale of the Egyptian battle had seen the x-men triumph, but Peter himself had lost…lost another chance to connect with Erik, if only he’d been able to get the better of the Immortal it might have impressed his father enough to take note of him, but instead if it hadn’t been for Raven’s distractions, the Beast’s strength and his own father’s shift in loyalties, he would have been just another victim in the note book of Apocalypse.

Peter drew a shaky breath, trying to force the events to wash over him, normally things didn’t bother him, but the last few months he’d changed, the others here at the school, or what was left of the school…he didn’t want to call them family but that’s what they felt like to him. It scared him and it was too much to hope for, he’d been disappointed to many times to open up like that. Which was why he’d told Beast to take him to a regular hospital in Cairo and he’d make his own way home once he was healed.

Beast had had his reservations about it, leaving the scrawny, pale kid who’d been with them since he’d saved literally everyone at Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters seemed a shitty way to repay him, but he’d finally consented to it, only after Peter had gotten angry and started yelling.

He felt lonely now, in the hospital bed, with an oxygen tube in his nose and his injured leg casted and hoisted by a sling, a thousand miles from anyone he knew, but the pain was reminding him of his failures as one of the x-men and the isolation served to remind him why he didn’t bother with people, especially his father.

They always left. Or were never there to begin with.

He deserved this.

“You don’t deserve any of this, Peter.”

Peter jolted, startled for only a second by the gentle voice, there was only one person it could be, to know what precisely he was thinking. He hurriedly wiped tears off his face before Charles came any closer.

“I told Beast I was fine. I don’t want anyone wasting any more time on me.”

“Beast didn’t tell your secret, but I was worried about you, Peter. You think I was going to just leave Egypt without you? I wouldn’t leave here without any of you.” Charles stepped closer, softly he took his hand and squeezed gently.  “You all mean so much to me. I owe you my life, Peter.”

He removed his hand and crossed his arms. “I didn’t do anything, if…if Erik hadn’t stepped in, we all would have been killed-including you.”

Charles glanced towards the monitors attached to the young man, before his eyes roamed across the physical state of Peter, in contemplation. “It was a group effort; it took all of us.” He finally spoke after a moment of hesitation. “I know you seek his attention and yet you’re afraid of it…Lehnsherr is coming back with us to New York, he’s going to help me rebuild the institution.”

Peter glanced up, his eyes reflecting a youthful hope the professor hadn’t seen for some time. “I thought he left.”

Charles shook his head. “It’s a way to…perhaps earn his attention, little by little anyway. What do you think? Will you return with me?”

Peter grimaced. “I’m not in great shape professor, encase you haven’t noticed. I might swing in when I’m up and around.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “I know all your pains, I’m sorry. I put your life in such horrific danger-”

“I came along on the mission of my own free will, no one forced me,” Peter interrupted.

Charles gripped his shoulder suddenly with an assertive intention. “Let me oversee your recovery, Maximoff, please, it’s the least I can do. I won’t leave here until you agree to be transferred to a hospital in New York, preferably close to Salem Center. You don’t have to be bothered by anyone from the school. But knowing you aren’t in Egypt would put my mind at ease.”

Peter sighed, he was feeling it again, the warm sensation that made him relaxed and somehow extremely uncomfortable at the same time. Family was something he would never be able to hold on to. He was going to mess it up, he knew that. He could already feel the threads slipping between pale, desperate, grasping fingers. But in the meantime, Charles cared about him enough to hunt him down in one of many Cairo hospitals, and he’d checked in under an alias. The professor cared enough to come back, or had he never left in the first place? His caring nature was beyond consolation to Peter’s broken, cold body, so comforting in fact he felt tears welling up again!

He sniffled and hurriedly wiped his brow before their return, nodding. “I’ll come with you.”

Professor Xavier had kept his word, medically and financially he’d arranged for everything to be taken care of, transporting Peter from Cairo to New York. He’d also arranged for him to have his own private room in Sheeran Hospital—a private hospital in upstate New York, forty-five miles from the current disaster of Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters.

Over the next two weeks physically Peter’s injuries slowly healed but mentally he felt wrecked beyond compare. He started having reoccurring nightmares that he couldn’t run; his ability had been fractured when the monstrosity had snapped his leg like a twig under his boot. In the dream he was trying to run away from someone, his first thought was that it was Apocalypse but a couple nights later he realized it was just a shadowy figure, one he could never outrun. Each time he fell, immobilized as pain shot through his leg, the sound of his own bones crunching reverberated in his ears, just as it had that day.

The nurses had unfortunately taken note of his mood, though Peter hadn’t put much effort into hiding his grim attitude, he’d slipped in a snarky remark about getting some extra drugs for an overdose. The nurse didn’t find his dark humor amusing and Charles suspiciously showed up the very next day.

He didn’t say much at first, just sat near Peter’s bed, looking out the enormous rectangle window that looked west, on a glowing sunset. “You have a good view though,” he finally spoke.

Peter pursed his lips. “I do appreciate your hospitality Professor, but I’m fine, you don’t have to check in on me. Just... really bored here you know, I don’t think I’ve ever stayed in one place this long…it’s wearing on me, I feel weird being at this speed.”

Charles turned his chair to face him, hands in his pockets, yet concern on his features. “Must be very uncomfortable to be forced to slow down. How’s physical therapy going?”

Peter avoided the older man’s gaze for some reason and snorted. “I mean it’s slow, I’m not the patience type or a patient for that matter…”

Charles nodded. “But the sooner you’re hobbling around, the sooner I can get you out of here.”

“And take me where?” Maximoff snipped with his signature deep-set frown.

Charles chuckled, “You’d be surprised what several telekinetic mutants can accomplish when it comes to construction. The east wing is already rebuilt, for now we’re using it for sleeping quarters. It’s a little crowded but…”

“…Anything is better than the smell of hospital?” Peter finished, trying to keep his mind in constant motion—moving from thought to thought. He didn’t know how much the professor knew about what he was thinking but Xavier had already noted his inward conception about seeking Erik’s attention in Egypt, so his guess was he was an open book, but Peter’s thoughts could be about as fast as his movement when we wanted them to be. “Well sounds like I need to hit therapy harder, if you’re actually going to get me out of here.”

As much as Peter didn’t intend to be shambling around a cramped wing in the school, Charles’ visit served to kick him in the butt about getting out of Sheeran soon, regardless of where he went afterward. And if he was being honest, he had never planned to go back to the school, though he also wasn’t ready to face his reasoning for not returning there.

No one was going to miss him, well not the one person that mattered, because he couldn’t even see Peter for who he was. A new plan had quickly formulated—get his leg in good enough shape to slip off before Charles came back for him and circumvent the entire situation altogether.

The nightmares continued to plague him, as day after day he added a little weight to the tender broken leg, between tears and a lump that had formed on his lip from how many times he had bit it to deal with the pain, he started making it all the way through the routes the therapist had set up for him. Once he realized he could make it to the end of the routine he had to mentally stop himself from trying out his true speed. He continually checked himself, forced himself to be normal, move slowly. He embraced the pain wholly, promising himself a whole box of Lemonheads when he got out of here.

A week and two days after Charles’ visit, Peter decided he was going. He’d woke up from his worst nightmare by far, clutching his throat, covered in sweat, his heart was beating hard enough his chest ached. His leg was throbbing with shadow pain from Apocalypse breaking it, only in this dream he hadn’t been saved before the giant mutant had slit his throat and tossed him aside like trash. His father hadn’t even noticed or cared.

Peter swallowed painfully, still tracing his fingers across the smooth, blanched flesh of his neck as he slipped out of bed. His x-men costume had been lost somewhere in the shuffle, or maybe the professor had taken it, either way Charles had been kind enough to replace it with his current pajamas and a change of clothing. Not the usual silver tinted clothing but considering he still wasn’t up to his Quicksilver speed, it seemed fitting to pull on the dark blue jeans and faded orange hoodie. Peter sighed in comfort at the velvety worn state of both items as they contacted his skin, though he tried to ignore how billowy the clothes were on him, he’d lost a significant amount of weight since Egypt—which the nurses had been lecturing him over—but what could you expect when there was only hospital food and no snacks to be seen.

Next Peter attempted to calm his silvery hair, by brushing his fingers through it repeatedly, which only seemed to make it worse. Between the wild shock of hair and the dark rimmed eyes, his reflection looked ghostly, coupled with the dim hospital lighting.

Peter exhaled calmly before grabbing the only items that had made it back with him from Egypt, his googles and his earphones, he stuck one of the foreign crutches under each armpit and silently slipped out of Sheeran Hospital…

[ffangirlingsince2001]

Eyes on the Glass

Kinktober: Day 6, Mirrors

Loki x Reader

A fight between lust and self-deprecation ensues, all with the help of Loki’s room a mirrors.

Warnings: SMUT, fingering, a little choking, angst, self-deprecation, fluff

If there was one thing you knew about Loki it was that he liked mirrors. His bedroom was like a funhouse. Instead of paintings, ornate mirrors he would never admit he had bought from a mortal thrift store cover every inch of his walls. He collected shards and laid them across his windowsills until the room looked like a kaleidoscope. Even at night the reflective glass collected the stars and threw them across the room.

One day you had asked him why.  He claimed it was because it reminded him f the long hallways and glamorous tea rooms he had grown up in, but you still believed it was just because he liked to look at himself. Not that you could blame him, someone so beautiful shouldn’t be denied the right to reflect across so many surfaces.

It was a completely different story for you. Before you had even met Loki and his mirrors you could barely stand to look it one. From the moment your reflection was staring back at you, you couldn’t help but notice the flaws clustered across your face. Old acne scars and cheeks that turned red too easily were only the tip of the iceberg. Some days you even went as far as unscrewing the light bulbs in your bathroom, just so you could go about your day in peace.

And now you were living amongst the prettiest people in America, it just wasn’t fair.

Loki had been the target of your affection for months. Once you were able to get over the nasty little thought of what he had done to New York and he started treating you like an actual human being, it was impossible to stop your torrent of feelings for the god. So, stuck in a state of pining and self-deprecation. It didn’t help that the woman that flocked to his side were the utter opposite of you. Slender where you were muscular, smooth where you were rough, and graceful where you were awkward.

You thought you knew pain, but it seemed that nothing compared to the sound of Loki leading a new girl to his bedroom night after night. You wanted to move your room, there were plenty of others but the only thing worse than listening to Loki’s conquests was the idea that he would know you were hurt. He was your friend, and moving would not only ruin your friendship, but you were sure it would only make you more miserable.

And so, with all your pining and misery you were spending yet another evening home alone with only a glass of wine and another trashy romantic drama for company. You used to like time spent alone, but now it seemed like that was all your time.

Beneath the layers of sadness and mundanity it was no surprise that when a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts you jumped about a mile high.

“Loki,” you gasped with a laugh, clutching your heart with a trembling hand, “I didn’t realize you were home.” Quickly you gave him a once over, taking in the casual clothes he had chosen for the evening, nothing like the black suits he normally chose when he went hunting.

“I decided to spend the night with you if that’s alright?” he said and your heart nearly jumped through your ribs as you tried to remain calm enough to give him an answer.

“Of course, I’d love nothing more,” you replied, folding your feet beneath you, offering him a spot on the loveseat. He smiled and accepted. You tried not to notice the feeling of the couch shifting as he sat or the way he patted your leg in the most ‘let’s just be friends’ way possible. “Do you want some wine?” He nodded and you jumped off the couch, racing towards the kitchen for an extra wine glass; thankful for the excuse to catch your breath and slow the heartbeat you know he could hear.

You returned to the couch and sat on the opposite end, practically cuddling with the armrest.

“Y/N, come, sit closer,” he instructed and nervously you moved closer. He smiled and pulled you close, wrapping an arm around you and tugging your feet over his lap. After a few moments you relaxed and reveled in what was happening. You gave yourself a subtle pinch, just to check if it was a dream but nothing had ever seemed realer.

Eventually the movie drew to a close and the two of you were absolutely trashed over the expensive dessert wine you had snuck from Tony’s special stash. He had managed to pull you into his lap, and you were both laughing about nothing. You met the man’s eyes and suddenly silence engulfed the room. You tried to turn away, but something stopped you, something soft and sweet, something that couldn’t possibly be his lips pressed against yours. It couldn’t possibly be that sort of something, and yet it was.

Kissing Loki was better than you had ever imagined. The way his hands held you and the way he seemed to murmur confessions against your lips sent your heart into a whirlwind. You’re not exactly sure how it all happened after that. One second you were straddling him, hips rolling forward as he ravished your mouth and the next, he was carrying you to his bedroom, legs still wrapped around his waist. It wasn’t until he tossed you on the bed that you seemed to sober up.

Those cursed mirrors were everywhere, and they were all staring at you, with deep, hateful eyes. In a panic, you shoved him away, gasping for air.

“What, what is it?” he asked but you were to busy staring. What on god’s earth were you doing here? Scurrying out of bed you made a break for the door.

“How could I be so stupid. If I wanted to be a fool there are easier ways to do it,” you muttered to yourself, throwing open the door. Your room was so close your fingers were brushing the doorknob when a pair of strong arms pulled you back.

“Y/N, what have I done?” he asked, but shame kept you silent. You just wanted to close your eyes and forget you had ever seen such a sight. “Y/N, please.” God, he was pleading now. He sounded like you were causing him pain, like he wanted to look at you.

“I can’t, not with the mirrors,” you whispered, watching his face with dismay. He raised an eyebrow before his face was filled with an angry understanding.

“Y/N, do you not believe you are beautiful?”

“You’re drunk,” you choked out with an angry laugh, but he shook his head.

“Mortal wine does nothing to me, and even if it did, I have never been more sober. Now, I asked you a question. Do you not believe you are beautiful?”

“Not compared to the other woman that you sleep with.”

“They are nothing compared to you.” Now you really were laughing, and he was frowning. When it seemed that it was not all a cruel joke your laughter subsided, and shock took over. Was he blind? Was he even speaking to you? “Come, let me show you what my mirrors are really for.”

Lamely you allowed him to take your hand and lead you into the dreaded room. He positioned you in front of the largest of the mirrors and after a few moments, told you to watch. You shakily pulled your eyes away from the golden frame you had been so ardently studying and locked eyes with his reflection. As you stared the shock of his confession only grew stronger. You were certainly nothing to look at, especially in nothing but a long sleep shirt and ponytail.

If only you had dressed up for such an event.

He pulled the hair tie from your hair and allowed the messy locks to fall around your shoulders. He pulled your gaze away from the mirror for a moment, only to kiss you, and then your eyes returned, just as his hands found the hemline of your shirt. As he lifted it over your thighs you squeezed your eyes shut, not daring to look at the haggish sight that would send him running for the hills.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded as the fabric hit the floor. You shook your head and a soft hand wrapped around your throat, thumb brushing against your chin with impatience. Hesitantly, ever so hesitantly, you obeyed.

The moment you saw yourself in the mirror was not a magical one, in fact, you were impressed you didn’t run from the room that very second. The only thing that was different was Loki, who was staring at your with eyes that screamed lust. With his hands wrapped around you, cupping your chest it seemed he was unable to pull his eyes away. The hand that enveloped your chest drifted down your stomach and two fingers dipped into your dripping core.

It was a strange sight, to watch your body react to something so wonderful. Your muscles tensed, goosebumps sprang up along your skin, and it was all there for your viewing pleasure. You were able to see the very moment his fingers entered you and the way your lips parted as a moan drifted off your tongue. The mirror caught everything, every droplet of sweat, every quiver, every deep breath. You tried to look away, but he always returned your eyes to the reflective glass, whispering words that you could barely hear over the sound of your won ecstasy. When your legs began to shake he turned you around and returned you to the bed, a sweaty, whiny mess.

“On your hands and knees,” he demanded, and you did so, angling your body just enough to avoid any reflection. He seemed to catch onto your plan quickly and yanked your hips to side, returning your gaze to the mirror where he had tortured you moments before. His hard member touched the achy folds of your center and you let out an explicit moan, backing your hips against his length. He grabbed your hips and slid into your entrance, stretching you all along the way. “If you take your eyes off that mirror I will stop until I am satisfied they have returned. Do you understand?” You nodded and then it began. With grace and dignity he thrust inside of you, his hand drifting to your hair and tugging, as if to remind you where your eyes belonged.

It was truly a sight to behold. He was like a king in his courtroom, staring down at you with desire. Even stranger so, you looked… incredible. With every thrust your body responded deliciously, muscles straining, eyes widening, lips parting. Your hair brushed against your cheeks like that of an angel being taken by something unholy. It seemed you too couldn’t take your eyes off the sinful sight in front of you. It was your own personal erotica.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled and for the first time that night you believed him.

Your legs were shaking again, trembling at the force of his repeated attacks. You were so close you could feel it in your chest, twisting and aching to explode, and with one final thrust you both did so, riding through the high until you were exhausted. Ina heap of sweat and ecstasy you collapsed, pulling Loki’s lips to yours. His kiss was soft and sweet once again, no sign of the previous domination remained.

“Do you believe me, my love?” he asked, and your heart fluttered as you nodded. He smiled, as if this had been his plan all along. With a final conscious breath you closed your eyes, the last thought that crossed your mind was, of course this had been his plan along, he was the Trickster God after all.

[myhockeyworld87]

Bubble Wrapped - Part 13

Word Count: 3,876

POV: Reader

Warnings: Same as always, Language, Smut, NSFW, Please see the note in the Masterlist

Teams: Bruins, Caps, Flyers, Lightning, Pens, Jackets, Canes, Islanders

Notes: Well, here we are onto another part of Bubble Wrapped. When we last left this story, our Reader had an encounter with Svech, who then proceeded to profess his love. Our reader didn’t quite see Svech in that light but there might be someone else that she does. So I’m hoping the wrap this story up in a couple more parts. I’m not sure what happened here but this is soft smut in my world. As always feedback is greatly appreciated and wanted…hahaha! Luv ya all!! Happy Reading to all!

Wracking your brain you tried to come up with alternate solutions on where you and Mat could have dinner and maybe a little fun afterward. There was always the option of shutting down one of the nightclubs and having a private party for just the two of you, but then staff would be milling around cooking and getting things ready for the players to use those rooms during the day. Your suite was the ideal option, but with your current roommates, it was scratched off the list easily.

 It was then that an idea struck you. Your suite connected to the pool, which always shut down early in the evening. It wouldn’t be hard to shut it down, say around seven in the evening for a late dinner with Mat, and with it being on the rooftop there would be no chance for anyone to see anything that happened after that dinner. “I think I have an alternate plan,” you told Mat who had already decided dinner was off the table so to speak. “That is if you’re still interested.”

 One side of his face turned up into what could only be called a shit-eating grin. “Oh, I’m definitely interested.”

 “Then meet me up by the pool say seven-thirty tomorrow night?”

 There was a note of disappointment in Mat’s face and it had you questioning if you said or had done something wrong. “Yeah, seven-thirty sounds great. Just wish I was the one planning the date for you.”

 Oh, well if that was his concern, that was nothing. “I’ll let you plan the next one. You know when you move into the hotel.”

 “Deal,” he told you, his eyebrows picking up with excitement and you had to wonder what he had planned for the future. “I hate to do this but I kind of have to get going. I have to get ready for the game soon, or I’d stay and chat.”

 “I understand.”

 “I’ll meet you tomorrow night.” Mat told you, a huge grin on his face, but then you were pretty sure that yours reflected the same. He was just about to turn and walk away when he stopped, his voice dropping low. “So, am I supposed to bring a suit or…?”

 The innuendo hung in the air for only a moment, before you chuckled softly. “Consider it optional,” you told him with a little wink, and then before he could be the one to walk away you did. Leaving Mat to wonder what tomorrow night would hold for the both of you.

 The rest of the afternoon went rather swimmingly, or maybe it was just because you had thoughts about your upcoming date with Mat on the brain. You worked most of the day downstairs, calling to check on Svech every so often only to find that he was sleeping. By the time you got back to the suite, the boys were all down in the living room playing video games. At least it was better than them puncturing your ceilings with hockey sticks. There was a slight awkwardness between you, Joel, and Andrei, but then you sort of expected that, considering Svech kept looking at you like a lovesick schoolboy. You could only hope that Joel didn’t realize what had happened while he and Dougie had been at practice.

 Before you knew it, everyone retired for the evening. You half expected there to be a knock at your door shortly after you retired, and you laid there for quite some time waiting for it. It never came though. Maybe it was because they were sharing a room, or maybe it was because they both realized that something had happened between you with both of them; you couldn’t really be sure. At any rate, you were glad when they all finally left for the arena, so you could get ready for your date with Mat. Even Svech put on his suit and tie and headed over, as he was hobbling around much better the next day.

 Throwing on a cute pale pink sundress, you headed up to the pool area to setup. Being the hotel manager did have its perks, and one of them included knowing where the most secluded spot was on the rooftop deck. You made sure that it would be closed off to all the players, but there was still an off chance that someone could wander up, and you didn’t want to be in the wide open for just anyone to see if they decided to peer through the hallway by the elevators. You rearranged a couple potted plants for cover as well, before setting up the table.

 Right before Mat arrived you went down to your suite and brought up the meal that you had the chef prepare, so that everything was perfect for when he came. You weren’t sure why you were going to all the extra trouble, but there was just something about Mat that made you go that extra mile.

 You were shocked to see him standing at the door, dress in a button-down shirt and dress pants. Most of the men had adopted the relaxed casual attire the NHL deemed appropriate for the bubble, and you just assumed that he probably hadn’t brought anything with him. “Hi,” he breathed out when you opened the door to let him in, only to lock it again. “These are for you.” He handed over a small bouquet of pink and white roses to you. “It’s the best I could do.”

 “They’re beautiful.” It was so simplistic and sweet compared to the extravagant gifts Tyler had given you. “How did you get them?”

 “You’re not the only one with connections,” he said with a little wink and you had to wonder if Carly had anything to do with this.

 “Thank you, they’re lovely.” Going up on your toes you kissed him on the cheek, which only made you lightheaded as you inhaled the intoxicating scent of him mixed with his cologne.

 “You look beautiful by the way,” he told you. Before you could pull away, his hand went to the small of your back urging you to stay tucked into this side.

 “Thank you.” Just being close to him again, sent a jolt of lust through your body, and you knew if you didn’t get him over to the table soon, that you’d be having him for dinner. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.” You skated your hand down his arm so that you could entwine your fingers with his and lead him over to the spot you had set up for the two of you.

 The table, while not anything special, was set up for just the two of you. A bottle of champagne sat chilling beside it, while the soft glow of candles lit up the secluded alcove you’d chosen. “Wow, you really went to a lot of trouble.”

 “It was nothing really.” It struck you then that this was the first real date that you’d had since this whole pandemic started. I mean sure you’d had a few hookups, maybe more than a few, since you were in the bubble and maybe something even before it, but this was like actual couple stuff. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I kind of just went with a little bit of everything.” A bout of nervousness hit for some unknown reason and suddenly you were shaking as you uncovered the dishes you had ordered. Apparently, hookups were easier to deal with than an actual date was.

 “Hey, look at me,” Mat gently whispered as he covered his hand with yours, and you looked up into the deep fathoming pools of his eyes. “I’m nervous too if it helps.” The side of his lips lifted up into the cutest smile you ever saw. “Just breathe.” You did, taking a nice deep calming breath and feeling so much better. “Ok, yeah…” Mat said and you looked at him in question. “Maybe not so deep next time.” His cheeks were stained red as he’d just admitted to staring at your breasts, and you had to laugh at how you were both acting like two high school kids instead of grown adults.

 It was time to take the situation in hand. Stepping closer to Mat, you whispered, “I think we’d both feel better if we got this out of the way first.” You slid your hands up behind his neck and drew his mouth down to yours. You were only in control of the kiss for a moment, before Mat’s tongue swept across your lips, begging you for entrance, which you gave, of course. His tongue mingled with yours, tasting you and drinking you in, as his hands slid around your waist pulling you close to his body. You melted into him and all the nerves from moments ago just seemed to disappear along with the rest of the world.

 Mat pulled away first, yet still chased your lips, before breathless saying, “That was exactly what I needed.”

 With one final peck, you stepped back, albeit reluctantly. “Ok, back to dinner then.”

 Conversation over dinner flowed easily after that, so much so that you completely forgot the awkwardness that took place when Mat first got there. Mat spoke about hockey and his family, while you deftly avoided telling him anything about yours, not wanting to go down that rabbit hole. Instead, you told him about all the crazy mishaps that had taken place since this bubble had started, omitting all your sexcapades.  

 “They really broke a pipe with a hockey stick?” Mat roared with laughter at your telling him why the three Canes were staying with you.

 “I know. I couldn’t believe it either.”

 “You certainly have your hands full here.” Mat took your hand in his then, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over your knuckles. “Though I’m glad you made time for this tonight.”

 “Me too.” You were honestly having one of the best nights you’d had since the bubble started. With his free hand, the one not still linked with yours, Mat grabbed his phone. Apparently, he didn’t feel the same way as you did if he was going to make a call.

 The thought no sooner came to your mind that he wasn’t enjoying himself when you heard a soft melody playing from his mobile. “Dance with me?” You simply nodded your head, and he drew the two of you to your feet.

 He easily wrapped you up within his arms, as yours went around his neck; the two of you swaying to the music, bodies pressed intimately as you danced under the stars. Mat’s eyes stared into yours, so warm and loving, and you found yourself getting lost in them. Slowly, his lips drifted down to yours, capturing them in a kiss that stole your breath away. This time you gave him entrance immediately, as your tongues danced to a melody all of their own.

 Your fingers slipped through his locks at the nape of his neck, and he moaned against your mouth. The kiss becoming even more heated, his hands roaming over your ass to press you closer to him. Mat twirled you both until you felt the back of your knees bump up against one of the oversized cabana chairs. He lowered you down onto it; his body followings yours as he continued to ravage you with his kisses.

 Mat’s mouth was everywhere, on your lips, trailing down your neck and across your collarbone, until he suddenly stopped. He pulled back to look at you, lust in his eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”

 It was sweet of him to ask considering what had already transpired between the two of you a week or so ago. “Please don’t stop,” you begged him, wanting to feel his mouth on you again. A wicked grin spread on his face before he was back to devouring you again. His one hand skimmed up the inside of your thigh while his other eased the strap of your dress off your shoulder. Not to be outdone, you deftly undid the buttons of his shirt before pulling its tail out of his pants. His body was amazing. You drank it in that day at the arena, admiring his abs as sweat glistened off of them, but now you let your hand leisurely play with the well-developed muscles there.

 When your nails raked across his six-pack to roam down to his belt, he sucked in a breath, before stilling your hands. “Not yet, babe. There’s something I’ve been dying to do first.” He gently pushed you so that your back fully lay on the cushions. Slipping your arms out of your dress straps, he slowly lowered the garment so that he could feast upon your breasts. It was no surprise that you weren’t wearing a bra as the sundress's thin spaghetti straps didn’t allow for it. Mat took one taut nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it before tugging on it with his teeth. Your back arched up into him as you gasp out with pleasure.

 You were so enthralled with his mouth, you didn’t feel his hand glide up your inner thigh until it reached your core. His hand cupped your sex and you knew he could feel the moisture that he’d created through the thin material of your panties. He spread your legs easily before sinking down on his knees in front of you. He pulled your body closer to the edge of the cabana seat, before pushing your dress around your waist. “Lift up for me.” You did as commanded and the next thing you knew he slid your panties off and into his pants pocket. He trailed hot kisses up your inner thighs making you squirm with delight. Your chest rose and fell in anticipation of where his mouth would soon be, and you could feel him grinning as he kissed your heated skin.

 His fingers spread you wide before you felt his tongue lick a stripe up your core. “Mmm,” he moaned out, or was that you, you couldn’t tell. “Fuck your wet,” and this time you knew they were Mat’s words, which brought more moisture pooling at your center. His mouth went to work then, flicking across your clit, then darting inside your pussy. It was a full-on assault to bring you pleasure, and you treasured every second of it. One strong arm, held your hips down as your body started to move on its own accord. “You taste so good,” he panted then sucked on your clit. “I knew you would. This is all I could think about for the last week.” His fingers joined the play of his lips, thrusting first one and then another inside you.

 “Don’t stop,” you moaned, as your hands threaded into his dark locks keeping his mouth in place as you drew closer to the edge of ecstasy. Maybe it was your words or the fact that Mat could feel you start to flutter on his lips, but his mouth didn’t let up on your clit as his fingers made that perfect come-hither motion that drove you to the brink of insanity. You came with a loud moan, as your body shook from the intense sensations.

 Mat worked you through the orgasm, slowly ceasing his movements as you came back to reality. “Damn your beautiful when you cum.”

 His lips glistened with your juices on him and you found yourself reaching for him. He came willingly. His body looming over yours. “Then I think you should make me cum again. Only this time I want you inside me.” Mat didn’t have to be told twice. His mouth came down on yours, where you tasted your essence on his lips, as he kicked his pants off. Taking himself in hand, he guided his cock to your wet and waiting pussy. The chords in his neck strained as he slowly entered you, as you could see the amount of effort it took him to hold back instead of just plunging in deep and hard. Little did he know that that would’ve satisfied you as well, but there would be other times for him to do that, at least you hoped there would.

 His lips only left yours once he was buried deep inside you, and then it was only to suck in a deep breath. “Fuck,” he hissed out. “You feel so good.” Slowly, almost painstakingly so, he started to thrust in and out of you. One hand held your hip steady, while the other toyed with your breast, flicking and pinching your nipple. You moaned at the sensation relishing the feel of him inside you. “So beautiful.”

 His lips found yours again, stoking an even greater hunger within you. “Harder, Mat. Harder.” He picked up the pace, his balls slapping against you. Moans from both you and Mat mingled in the night air, as a cool summer breeze caressed your heated skin. You felt your body clench as Mat hit you in just the right spot.

 “That’s it cum for me, beautiful.” You broke apart, shattering once again as your second orgasm of the night hit you. He gave you but a moment to recover before flipping over on your stomach. Grabbing a pillow, he propped it under your stomach then drew you up on your knees. His cock slammed back into your dripping pussy. Both hands gripping your hips, he pounded into you at a feverish pace. When you finally recovered, you levered yourself up on your elbows, pushing back against him when his thrusts slowed. “Fuck baby,” he grunted out as you fucked yourself on his cock. He gathered your hair in his hands, pulling you gently back towards him as he lowered himself down to nip at your neck. You hoped there wouldn’t be marks there in the morning.

 You weren’t sure what pushed Mat over the edge, but the next thing you knew he grabbed both hips and pistoned his cock in and out of you. “Oh,” he groaned, and you felt yourself start to quiver. You didn’t think that you’d cum like this, without any stimulation to your clit, but you could feel a third orgasm start to build. “God, yes, baby.” Mat thrusts hammered into you and then you were spiraling once again. Mat followed you, with a loud moan, as his hands bit into your hips. Your elbows gave out and you both collapsed on the lounge chair. “That was…”

 “Fucking amazing,” you finished for him.

 “Yes, yes it was.” He moved to his side, bringing your body with him. Bodies sticky from sex and sweat, you laid there letting the summer air cool your body. Mat swept back a lock of hair that had fallen across your face. “So beautiful.” His words were but a whisper, a caress almost and you shivered, not from the night breeze but the look in his eyes. They held so much emotion in them. Happiness, lust, longing, and something else you dare not say for you weren’t sure if you were ready for that, were all there.

 It was too much, and so you closed your eyes before saying, “Care to take a little dip?”

 “I thought he just did.” You both laughed lightly at his cute little pun. “But why not.”

 You got up, leaving Mat still lounging on the oversized chair, and shimmied your dress off your body finally. Looking over your shoulder, you gave Mat a wink before walking to the edge of the pool and diving in. When you surfaced from the water, Mat was still in the same position, just lazily watching you. “Are you coming?”

 “Oh, I think we’ll both be doing that in a few minutes.”

 True to his words, Mat had you cuming as you both found release under the water. It was sometime later, that you were both dressed again, the night getting late and Mat had to get back to Royal York and his team. “I wish I didn’t have to go,” he told you holding you within his arms, his hands running up and down your back.

 “I wish you didn’t either.” You kissed for what had to be the millionth time that night.

 “Well, hopefully, you’ll be seeing more of me here soon.” He dropped kisses to your lips, nose, and forehead, before adding. “Until then…Do you think we could do this again?” You went to answer, but Mat continued. “Maybe on a more exclusive level?”

 It was the last thing you thought he’d ask. You didn’t really see him as the monogamous type, so his question took you off guard. “I think you’ve been in the bubble too long.”

 “Maybe,” he admitted. “Maybe it’s only opened my eyes to things that I want.” He took a small strand of hair and tucked it behind your ear; he seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. The gesture was both endearing and seductive at the same time.

 “I think you drank too much champagne.” It wasn’t that you didn’t like the idea of a relationship with Mat. In fact, it was kind of appealing. Of all the men you’d been with since this whole thing started, there were three that came to mind that you’d actually consider being with, and Mat was one of them. You just didn’t know where your feelings stood with the other two.

 His grip on your hips tightened and he nudged you closer. “The only thing I’m drunk on ... is you.” He punctuated his words with an intoxicating kiss. “But you don’t have to answer me now. You can let me know when I move in here.”

 “You’re incorrigible.” You couldn’t help but kiss him again, for he was just too irresistible.

 “I’ve gotta go,” Mat finally said, after what seemed like an endless goodbye kiss.

 “I’ll go down to the lobby with you. I should check and make sure everything is fine, before heading to bed.”

 “Alone?”

 “Yes, alone.” You hadn’t realized he was the jealous type, but you could see a little bit of the green monster there in his eyes.

 “Just making sure none of your roommates will be visiting.” You rolled your eyes at him, though in the back of your mind you wondered what he had heard to make him think something was going on between you and any of the guys.

 “They won’t be.” You kissed him one last time before heading downstairs. The lobby was quiet as you said your goodbyes, but then you heard the doors open as the Canes came filtering back in from their game. You’d forgotten all about them playing tonight. From the look on their faces, it hadn’t gone well.

 “Looks like I’ll be moving in sooner than I thought,” Mat whispered in your ear as Svech and Joel walked past. Both of them took in your appearance, as well as Mat’s hand at the small of your back. “Guess I’ll be getting an answer to that question soon as well.”

 You were going to have to examine your feelings faster than you anticipated, and you weren’t quite sure you were ready to give up all the fun, just yet.  

.

[whisperlullaby]

Falcons

Pairing: Brock x Reader (briefly) Sam Wilson x Reader (AU)

Word Count: 2325

Warnings: Language, allusions to dub con, violence, domestic violence themes, alcohol use Do not read if any of these upset or trigger you

Summary: You’re dating Brock who is a regular at Sam’s bar. What happens when things with Brock go south?

A/N: Welp. This is my longest fic so far! It has darker themes than my previous stories so please proceed with caution and let me know if I missed any warnings. My lovely @river-soul​ is to thank for reading this story for any errors. Though I did edit it again after they read it so mistakes are all mine. Enjoy!

You held your breath as you approached the door. It shouldn’t have been the last place you looked for your boyfriend but you were really hoping he wasn’t lying about getting sober. You steeled yourself and pushed open the door to the town's watering hole “Falcons,” searching the dimly lit bar for any sign of Brock. Instead you saw your friend the owner, Sam, behind the bar and gave a small smile as you approached him.

“Hey Sam. Have you seen Brock? I can’t find him and he was supposed to be home hours ago.” You shifted around nervously. Sam grabbed your hands and gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Hey gorgeous. I wish I could give you better news but yeah. He’s here.” Sam gestured to the back wall of the bar with his head. “He’s been here for a few hours. I was about to call you, I didn’t serve him but it looks like his friends have been getting drinks for him all night. I should have noticed earlier, I am so sorry Y/N.” 

Sam was the only one who knew about Brock’s habit. Being the only decent bar in a 20 mile radius, “Falcons” always drew in townies and out of staters alike. You had gotten to know Sam well over the course of your relationship with Brock. Sam would always call you when Brock was there well past last call or if he was about to make a scene. He was always so sweet and understanding when it came to Brock. He even helped you get Brock to your car on more than one occasion when Brock was too drunk to stand up straight.

Your eyes caught his figure slumped over a table along the back wall. You squeezed Sam’s hands, took a deep breath and willed your tears not to fall as you made your way to the back of the bar. You felt Sam’s gaze on you as you approached the table, Brock shifted and turned to meet your gaze.

“Baby! You found me!” Brock slurred. He stumbled getting up and you had to catch him before he hit the ground.

You sighed, struggling under his weight. “Brock I thought you said you were done coming here. We had an agreement, you promised you’d stop drinking.” 

“I know baby but look, the guys wanted to celebrate Jack’s promotion and I couldn’t say no.” Brock gestured to the other men playing pool. “Jack’s promotion. Jack’s. Not mine like it should have been but Jack’s.”

You looked around the bar, it was close to last call so the bar patrons seemed to thin out except for the group loudly playing pool. You managed to catch Sam’s eye and he gave you a sympathetic smile before you turned back to Brock.

“I know Brock, why don’t we get you home and we can talk about all this in the morning. I’ll make you some breakfast and coffee and you can tell me all about how you should have gotten the promotion.”

You slowly managed to get Brock in his jacket and shuffling through the bar towards the exit. This wasn’t the first time it happened where you scoured the town trying to find your boyfriend. You were hoping it was the last when he almost went to a hotel with someone from out of town and you managed to catch him, thanks to Sam calling you to let you know what was happening. Brock was so apologetic, bought you flowers and jewelry for two weeks straight. He didn’t have a sip of alcohol and he proved every night that all he needed was you and your sweet sounds to get him drunk.

When you got to the door of the bar you turned around and caught Sam’s worried gaze. He gave you a small nod which you returned before exiting the bar into the bitter cold. You managed to not only get Brock buckled into the passenger's seat, but up the three flights of stairs to his apartment. You hung up your coat and went to take Brock’s coat off when he forcefully grabbed your arms and started shaking you.

“You think I was too dumb to get the promotion don’t you? You think Jack should have gotten it because he can hold his liquor. I can hold mine just as well as Jack can.” Brock was screaming in your face and you could smell the cheap beer on his breath. “You’re fucking him aren’t you? You’re fucking Jack.”

Your mouth dropped open and your eyes went wide at his accusation. “Brock I would never do that. I love you, you know that.”  

You had to placate him before his anger escalated any more. The last time Brock got it in his mind you were cheating on him you had to wear long sleeved shirts for two weeks, in July. Sam was extra vigilant when Brock came around after that. Watering down his drinks or refusing to serve him at all. Sam didn’t know exactly what happened but he did not trust Brock after that. 

Brock dropped your arms and stomped to the bedroom. 

“If you love me you’re going to prove it. Now.”

He took off his shirt and threw it in your direction. You just stood there frozen. He got demanding sometimes sure but never like this. Never with this cold detached look. Your breathing became quick and shallow and you could hear the blood pulsing in your ears. Your inability to move drew Brock’s anger out like a pistol. He was back where you stood in seconds raising his hand and hitting you across your face. You couldn’t breathe. You looked back up at Brock just in time for him to hit you again, this time his ring caught your cheek and you let out a pained cry. You touched your face and saw blood when you pulled your hand back.

“Get yourself cleaned up and then get out. You are pathetic.” Brock spat as he stumbled to his bedroom and slammed the door. You went over to the kitchen to grab a handful of paper towels before grabbing your jacket and leaving. You spent the rest of the night in your apartment restless, getting up multiple times to make sure the doors lock was latched and the windows were secure. 

The next morning you woke up to a barrage of texts from Brock apologizing. As you sifted through each pathetic excuse you heard a knock at the door. Tentatively you went to the door and saw Brock as you looked through the peephole with a bouquet of white roses and what looked like a bag of take out from your favorite breakfast place. 

“Baby come on let me in. I didn’t mean what I said last night, you know I love you. It was just that Jack got me so angry and I just snapped.” He sighed and knocked again. “Come on Y/N open up and let's put all of this behind us.”

You trembled as you slid open the chain lock and twisted the deadbolt to let Brock in. When you opened the door he saw your face cut and bruise from where he hit you.

“Oh baby let me make it all better.” 

He dipped down to kiss you and you winced in pain as your face puckered to kiss back. Brock continued his assault on your lips ignoring your pained groans. When he finally broke away he set the food and flowers on your kitchen counter. Abandoning the peace offerings, he returned to you and gripped your thighs so hard you had no choice but to jump and lift your legs around his waist. He carried you into the bedroom to continue apologizing for how he behaved last night.

After Brock left a few hours later you took a boiling hot shower trying to wash off any and all memory of the last 24 hours. You had been texting Sam to let him know you were okay, and that you had managed to get Brock home safely last night. Conveniently leaving out the more heartbreaking details. Sam had become your biggest confidant and your best friend. He had a way to soothe the ache in your soul with his honeyed words. He would just worry if he knew what Brock did, and you didn’t want to put that heaviness on his kind heart. You managed to make it through the day with no other incidents with Brock. You didn’t want to talk to him and even when he was with you, you had no idea what to say. He didn’t seem to notice your silence anyway just taking whatever he could from you with no regard to how you felt. You were getting ready for bed when your phone went off with a text from Sam.

“Hey gorgeous, I just got to the bar but it looks like Brock’s been here for a few hours. New kid was on tonight and didn’t know not to serve him.”

You cringed. You didn’t want to go get Brock but you knew if you didn’t someone else could get hurt. You put on your jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers and left for the bar. You managed to forget your coat even though it was well into January making the air that much more piercing. When you arrived at Falcons your eyes immediately went to the bar seeking out Sam. When he looked up his face was clouded with a mixture of anger and concern. He marched over to you and guided you into the back room before any other patron noticed your presence. 

“You said you were okay. That everything was fine last night.” Sam rushed out with concern. 

You shot him a confused look before remembering. The bruises on your arms from where Brock grabbed you. The cut and bruise on your face from where he had hit you not 24 hours before. Tears started draining from your eyes and Sam reached out to pull you close.

“I don’t know what happened. It’s like a switch flipped yesterday, he’s never been like that with me before. I don’t know what to do Sam. I don’t want to be with him anymore but I am so scared of what he’ll do if I try to break it off.” You were numb, whether it was from the cold or the realization that you had to break up with Brock knowing what he was capable of doing to you. 

“Okay you’re going to leave, go home. I’ll handle Brock tonight and come over tomorrow to help you figure out what you want to do. You’re not alone Y/N I’ll protect you.” Sam pressed a kiss on your temple.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. You knew you could count on Sam. He was your rock and everything you both needed and wanted in a person. Sam led you out of the stock room quietly and towards the front door. Unfortunately luck wasn’t on your side because Brock was at the bar trying to get another drink when he noticed you and Sam. 

“Baby? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re fucking Sam?! I knew you were just a cheating little slut. After everything I’ve given you. After everything I’ve done for you and this is how you repay me?” Brock slurred out and he made his way over to you.

“Man shut up.” Sam spat as he placed himself between you and Brock. “You are no longer welcome in this bar. You are banned and you are going to stay away from Y/N. Do I make myself clear?”

Brock set his unsteady gaze at Sam and gave him a sly smirk, “You want the dead fish? Go ahead and be my guest. Worst lay I’ve ever had.” Brock looked past Sam and into your eyes. “You hear me sweetheart? You are nothing without me. You are broken, damaged goods and I’m the only one who could want someone like you.”

Your hold on Sam’s arm grew tighter at Brock’s words. He had to be right, didn’t he? Your glassy eyes moved from Sam’s stoic face over to Brock’s. As you started to step forward into Brocks arms Sam gently grabbed you and pulled you into his chest.

“She is not broken.” Sam declared to Brock before turning his attention to you. His eyes were deep and soulful when he spoke to you. “You are not broken.”

You reached up and placed a hand on Sam’s face unable to break eye contact. You leaned up and gently kissed Sam. He returned your kiss with as much warmth as he could manage. When you pulled away Sam gave you a cheeky grin before you turned to face Brock.

“No. I am not broken. And we are not together, it’s over Brock.” As you turned your back on Brock to face Sam you felt Brock's hand on your shoulder but no sooner did he touch you did Sam have him on the ground writhing in pain.

“You do not come near her or touch her ever again. You are not welcome in my bar and if you come back I will call the cops. You are nothing here.”

Sam grabbed Brock by the collar and threw him out the front door. Once the commotion was over Sam guided you to a table and left only to bring you back some water and french fries.

“I hope this means I can take you out on a date now. I never like that guy.” Sam grabbed your hand and smiled.

“Yeah, I don’t think I liked him very much either. Besides I kind of had my eye on this bar owner for a while now.” You teased as Sam threw a fry at you.

You sat with Sam at Falcons until last call. Hopeful for the new chapter that was beginning.

[kikilefangirl]

Owed

Steve Rogers x Reader

(Word Count: 1377)

(Found this gif on Google images, so credit to whoever made it)

“Right this way, Miss.” 

You followed the security guard through the gala’s main entrance hall. 

Adorned with sparkling jewelry all through your hair, and matching diamond and ruby necklace and ring set, you were a vision in red. Your form fitting, crimson gown had a wide side slit, offset by your black velvet gloves. 

Eyes were drawn to you as you all but glided across the room. The chandelier bathed your brown skin in a warm glow. On your first sweep you spied three generals, quite a few senators, and a room full of dutiful donors and their plus ones. Not one journalist. 

“We need exactly forty-six minutes and eighteen seconds,” Mo, a crew member of yours, told you over comms. If they needed it, you’d get it. 

“Alright, just get it done.” You replied under your breath. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Mo responded and the line cut out. You grabbed a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter and took a sip. 

“Care for a dance, doll?” 

You were getting sloppy on the job. You had to be, because to miss such an obstacle as Captain America and whatever other agents he brought with him, would have never happened five years ago. You shook off your surprise and smiled, your lips parting to show white teeth. 

“I don’t know, a dance with a handsome stranger seems too cliché,” You teased. He lit up at his supposed anonymity.

“Steve. Do I get upgraded from stranger enough for a dance?” He persisted, but made no moves toward you. 

What a gentleman, you thought to yourself.

“I guess you do,” You lifted your gloved arm to him, expectantly.

Steve gently squeezed your hand and led you to the dance floor. The two of you were a perfect fit as you swayed across the room. Other guests gawked, with either jealousy or curiosity, you didn’t know. As the song ended the two of you stood, still close enough together for your breaths to intermingle.

During your dance you counted the two agents Steve brought with them out of the corner of your eye. One was a woman, blonde. Probably SHIELD. The other was a man with a gap toothed grin. He didn’t move like a regular agent, but definitely trained. 

You needed more time. 

“Thanks for the dance, Steve. See you around,” You said, sounding as flippant as you could.

As you pulled away, Steve whirled in front of you offering his arm. You linked yours with his and smirked up at him as he led through the crowd. He leaned down to your ear. 

“Gorgeous, your face didn’t come up once on the guest list,” he whispered. You didn’t react, allowing him to guide you further away from the crowd. 

“Since I’ve been made, I gotta say you’re a great dance partner, Captain.” You countered. 

The male agent was waiting for the two of you in a corner off to the side. Steve’s grip tightened, pulling you closer to him. In a threat assessment, Steve wanted you more towards him than his second in command. A selfless leader willing to put his life in danger over his team’s. 

So he was as much of a dream in real life as he was in your history books growing up.

“Why is it always the fine ones?” Number Two complained as Steve sat you down. You were flanked on either side, quite literally backed into a corner. 

“Nine minutes and twenty three seconds, remaining,” Mo called out in your earpiece. You didn’t reply. Instead, you caught a glimpse of the female making the rounds, most likely checking for any others. 

“You can call your girl off, I don’t bite.” You teased. Steve folded his arms over each other and leaned towards you. 

“Why are you here?” He asked. His lips twitched and he coughed when he caught you staring at them. You looked him in the eye with no shame. 

They were nice lips for a white guy.

“You know, I didn’t peg you as the type who only protects rich white folk, but I guess that’s why your partner’s here. To look out for the rest of us,” Your eyes flicked over to the dark skinned man. He was refreshing, really. 

“I’ll ask again: why are you here?” Steve demanded through a tight lipped smile. To spectators, it looked like you and the captain were flirting, so they tried to avert their gazes.

“You play with toys, Captain. I do business.” You stated, not missing a beat. 

You removed a ruby ring from your gloved hand and sat it across the table. Both men watched you and it like hawks. 

“I take what I am owed by my country, because my country didn’t love me enough to do right by me the first time. Your partner understands.” You said in a breathy voice. 

“I get paid just fine.” He told you. You were right about him not being an agent. You could feel the military bravado coming off him from a mile away. 

“Two minutes.” Mo said. You smirked. 

“Sure you do, soldier. But do you get paid his bucks?” You asked him, never sparing Steve a glance. 

You had a feeling the answer was no. 

“I have a pension with seventy years worth of interest on it. Now, what’s your name?” 

You smiled and turned towards him. Finally, a better question.

“Y/N. Ask your friend Bucky about me. I doubt he’s here, so ask him when—“

Steve cut you off. The games were over with. His expression darkened, his blue eyes harsher than when they first appeared. 

“You’re stalling. Fan out and find whoever she’s protecting.” He ordered. 

Both the soldier and the agent separated to look for your crew. They were long gone. Steve’s iron grip kept you in place, the advantages of a super soldier. 

“Pro-tip Captain, it’s only stalling if you need the extra time. I just like hearing you talk.” You admitted. 

Taking your free hand, you flagged down a waiter. As he drew nearer, your eyes turned a startling shade of purple and so did the waiter’s. Before Steve could react, you used your power to get inside the poor waiter’s head and made him see the single most person he wanted to hurt. 

It was an older man, probably his father. Predictable. 

The waiter launched himself at Steve before he could react, and the hand that gripped you was no more. You slid out from the  small booth and out in the open. The man was going rabid, but Steve was fending him off in the nicest possible way. The attention of the crowd was on them, but the soldier from earlier wasn’t as easily fooled. 

“I’m on her.” He replied, pushed through the masses to get to you. 

“Sorry, man. I hate to do this to a brother, but...” You trailed off, and your eyes flashed purple again. 

You made him see what he wanted most. This time the man, Sam, was stuck in a vision about him, dawning the Captain’s shield. Go figure. Sam stood stock still, his dark eyes turned a vibrant purple. You slipped out of the front door into a waiting car. 

As the driver sped off, you could see Steve bounding down the street after you. He recovered from your little sideshow, and was gaining on you. Damn, he was good. 

Opening up the skylight, you made eye contact with him, stopping him in his tracks. The vision was of you and him dancing like you had been doing only an hour ago. 

So he was a romantic at heart. 

You sat back down and used your powers to nudge Steve closer to the curb. You had no doubt that the man could take the hit, but there was something about him that stopped you from allowing it to happen. 

Besides, incoming traffic honked and swerved to avoid being hit by you or him, anyway. No civilian would be seriously injured and your stunt put enough distance between the two of you that you weren’t followed. 

“All thirty mil is accounted for and ready for distribution.” Mo sounded off. You smiled and fingered your diamond necklace. 

“Great work everyone, you know what to do,” you praised your team through your earpiece. The only bumps in the plan came from your end. You clicked off your comms and put it in your purse. 

As you sat back in your seat and pulled up the partition, your mind drifted to the Captain. You went off into the night with the memory of a handsome man who kept you on your toes all night. It was a shame you couldn’t enjoy him longer. 

“Goodnight, Steve.” You whispered. 

A secret goodbye to a man who wasn’t yours and would never hear it. 

                                                    …

“JARVIS, I need you to ID someone for me. Keyword: Y/N.” 

Steve was standing in Avengers Tower in an undershirt and the dress pants he had on earlier. He was staring intensely at the only image the camera could get of the jaw dropping woman who bested him. He blushed just thinking of the images you made him see. 

“She’s in the wind, man. And that’s probably a fake name.” Sam chimed in as he entered the room, yawning.

“She made me see things,” Steve started, but Sam threw his hand up with a look of almost guilt in his eyes.

Steve elected to ignore that. 

“Sir, there is no record of a Y/N ever existing.” JARVIS stated.

Steve clenched his jaw and thought back to what you said about Bucky. 

“JARVIS, pull up Hydra’s enhanced program. I doubt we’d get a name, but a list of abilities and weaknesses will do. Cross reference with any known or suspected holding facilities Bucky was in.” He ordered. 

Sucking in a breath, he still smelled hints of your perfume. It had been so long since he held a woman without the last name Carter. It was different, but he enjoyed it right up until the part where Sam said you were an uninvited guest with no ID. 

Steve had the worst luck with women. 

JARVIS pinged up a short list of Hydra experiments. 

Only one fit.

“Sam, can you go wake up, Buck. We need to talk to him about his ex-cellmate.” 

[ifuckinglovedio]

(Usually I would've just answered your ask but I wrote out this whole thing before realizing how asks work and didn't wanna copy it jdhshs)

@aot--levi--ttd

Ahh thank you so much for the nice ask!! I usually don’t write female reader but since I hadn’t linked to my rules yet before you sent this ask I’ll make an exception! (Though to be honest, even though I've had a female reader in mind writing this, I feel like it just naturally came out gender neutral anyway... I hope that's alright!)

Jotaro, Mista & Josuke getting called late at night by their s/o whose being followed

Jotaro 🐬

Jotaro had stayed up until late at night once again, getting lost in his work

It was already after midnight when he finally got up from his desk, so when he got a call from you he knew something must be wrong

"Why are you calling so late? Is everything okay?"

You told him about what happened, and though you tried to keep your voice calm so he wouldn't be overly worried, he could pick up the panic in your tone.

"Don't worry, I'm coming to pick you up. Just keep walking, and keep talking to me, alright? Tell me what you see."

He did his best to rush over to you. Luckily he knew the city you were in quite well, and thanks to your descriptions, it took less than 20 minutes before he found you.

He immediately ran towards you, even stopping time to get to you quicker, holding you in a close embrace and comforting you as best as he could.

When he spotted the man behind you, he did his best to imprint his face into his mind. What you told him made it unmistakably clear that this wasnt someone with good intentions. Part of him wanted to knock that guy down right then and there, but he decided against it. You were more important.

On the way back home he made sure to hold your hand for almost the entire drive. You were so exhausted, physically and mentally, that you couldnt help but fall asleep.

When you finally arrived Jotaro picked you up and carried you to bed, calmly tucking you in before going back to his office

He finished cleaning his desk and quickly drew a sketch of your stalker with SP's help, before going to sleep as well

When you told him the next day you felt like you'd seen this man following you a few times already, he didn't hesitate to file a police report. He took the day off to spend it with you, taking you out to brunch and a walk on the beach, making sure to distract you as much as he could by telling you his favorite little fun facts about sea creatures, and even picking up a shiny seashell he found to gift to you later.

Josuke 💜

Josuke had been worried for some time now.

You told him you would make a trip into town that day and might not make it home until late at night, but it's been hours now since he started waiting for you to come back. No text, no call, nothing. This was so unlike you, and the longer time went on, the harder it got for him to stay distracted.

But finally, his phone rang - and it was you! Letting out a sigh of relief, he answered your call, only to start panicking once more.

You didn't even greet him, just let out a meek "Josuke?" You sounded scared.

"(Y/N)? I've been waiting for you to call! Where have you been?! Is everything ok? You sound worried..."

You told him you forgot time. Instead of going right home after finishing your errands you wanted to stroll through the city, but you got lost on the way. And on top of that you could swear the man behind you didn't just walk the same way by chance...

"Josuke, I'm scared..."

"Don't worry! I'm coming for you! For now, try to head somewhere with more people. I'll make some calls and then I'll immediatly call you back, ok? I won't be gone longer than five minutes."

He quickly called his friends and told them what's up, and they agreed to help. They all got on their bikes and drove to the city, splitting up to search for you, all while Josuke kept you on the phone, make sure you knew he was there for you.

Okuyasu found you first, doing his best to look even more intimidating than usual, and making it clear to everyone around that you were his friend. He texted the others and took you to their pre determined meeting spot, keeping an arm around your shoulder until the man that had been following you was finally gone.

When you reached the others tears welled in your eyes. Josuke was pacing around, worriedly, while Koichi was trying to calm down Rohan, who seemed stressed as well, and obviously annoyed by Josuke.

Seeing your friends all worried for you, and even Rohan being there... it warmed you up inside a bit.

You ran towards Josuke while calling out his name, the former immediately catching you in his arms.

"You're safe... oh god, I was so worried."

He pressed a kiss to your forehead and wiped away your tears.

"Hey, hey, no need to cry! It's alright. You're safe. You're with me."

When you commented on the fact that Rohan was there, the mangaka's smile he had whole looking at you two turned into a frown and he started at the ground.

"Well, Koichi called me, and I still owed him a favor... besides, what kind of guy wouldn't help in a situation like this?!"

He was the only one with a car, so he drove you home, where you met with Josuke again.

You spent the rest of the evening watching an episode of your favorite comfort show, cuddled up close to your boyfriend, falling asleep next to him.

"No matter what you say, next time I'll make sure to come with you..."

Mista 🔫

You were out buying some new supplies for the gang. Until now you've always had someone along with you to make sure you're safe, but since nothing had happened for the past few months and you insisted on it, you went alone this time.

And of course, this was the day you should've taken someone along with you.

You'd finally gotten everything - it was a real drag to find the candy Narancia wanted for his birthday - you usually would've just gotten any other candy bar, but since it would be his birthday soon and he insisted these ones were the best, you went the literal extra mile and looked through every shop in the city you could think of.

By the time you'd finally found it the sun had already set, and when stepping out of the store and trying to make your way back, you realized you'd gotten completely lost.

You spent an hour wandering around the city, trying to find some kind of building or street you recognized, but it felt like you were running in circles. The exhaustion slowly got to you, and you wanted nothing but to lie down, yet you knew you had to stay strong.

After you arrived at the same street crossing yet again, you realized the man by the street lamp seemed more than familiar. You turned around and walked the other way, looking discreetly over your shoulder to realize you were indeed being followed.

Was it an enemy stand user? Someone who held a grudge against your boyfriend and the rest of the gang? Or just a creep who liked to follow young girls around at night? In any way, your first thought was to call your boyfriend.

"Honey bear? How are you baby? Have you eaten dinner already?"

"Huh? Oi, (y/n), what's up with the weird names?"

"Ah, so should I bring something for you? I can pick up some noodles on the way home ~"

"Hey,, you're acting kinda weird, is everything alright?"

"No, noo! It'll be just like that time two years ago. I got lost going shopping, remember? And then you picked me up and we had some noodles!"

That was enough for him. "So, you got lost and need me to pick you up, but can't say it outright, right?" "Yep!" "I'll be there in just a moment. OI, NARANCIA!"

The two ventured into town, and with Aerosmith's help they managed to find you quite quickly. They ran towards you, and you were more than relieved when you saw them come across the corner.

You rushed to his side and Mista took your hand, pointing his gun at the man following you.

Considering how quickly he ran away it must've just been some rando. Still, you were more than relieved to be with Mista again.

With how tired you were after the day, he offered to carry you on his back and you immediately accepted, holding closely onto him and burying your head on his shoulder.

You didn't refuse the opportunity and gave him a little peck on the cheek, letting you hear that laugh you so loved.

Together you three ventured home, when after some minutes something was off...

"Oi, Narancia? Weren't we supposed to go left here?" "No, I swear it's to the right!" "Hey, wait a minute, weren't we just at this lamppost?"

...you got lost again.

In the end Abbachio came to pick you three up, though not before getting annoyed by your shared idiocy.

Finally feeling at peace, you feel asleep next to Mista on the car ride. Though your life had gotten consistently more dangerous since you met him, you couldn't help but feel like whenever he was around, things were finally alright.