#that moment was seared into my brain forever

[burningcomputerpersona]

The Wonder Years - You're The Reason I Don't Want the World to End (Live in Chicago)

[casdeans-pie]

Anna pressing the handprint scar while she and Dean had sex

Meanwhile

Castiel at that very moment:

[shy-writer-999]

Summary: Law has a thing for you, so when he catches you and Luffy fooling around one night, the captain makes him an offer that he can’t refuse. This is very Law-centric. ~2.8k words.

CW: Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns used a few times), double penetration, plz note that this is consensual~

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Law didn’t like admitting it to himself, but he was painfully infatuated with you. Each moment he spent on the ship (when he wasn’t actively dealing with the Strawhat crew’s nonsense) was occupied with thoughts about you. You were an itch in his mind that he couldn’t scratch.

He realized he had a problem when you caught him staring at you. You asked him straight up, “Is there something on my face?” He stuttered and apologized, excusing himself by saying that he “spaced out.”

Law’s favorite thing about you was your eyes. They were like magnets. Anytime you were around, he could feel himself being pulled towards you, with the nagging desire to just look into your eyes. He had never felt this before and was having difficulty coping. His fixation with you was taking up too much space in his head, it was starting to cause him genuine distress.

Along with missing his crew and Luffy driving him up the fucking wall, your presence agitated him. He was snappy, rude, reserved, and unreadable in every interaction. He swore to himself that he wasn’t this much of a dick usually, but the ship was driving him crazy.

Law was in denial about how intoxicating your presence was. One day he caught himself accidentally musing about what it would be like to ‘room’ and ‘shambles’ you out of your clothes and into his bed. He pretended like it was a momentary aberration.

The next night at dinner, you finished your food and got up to wash your plate. Law’s eyes followed you. Luffy went for another portion of meat at the same time as you, and when he walked past you, he unceremoniously slapped the ever-living fuck out of your ass. You were unfazed, and so was everyone else on the crew.

Law was flabbergasted and his jaw literally dropped. To think that Luffy was involved with you in that way… it broke Law’s brain. He just didn’t see it coming. It made him question his own judgment—why was he caught so off guard by that? Why didn’t he expect the captain of the Strawhats to pull? And why didn’t anyone else on the crew react to that? It must have been a normal occurrence.

He tried to shrug it off, but he couldn’t shake the sight of Luffy smacking your ass, especially the way your ass had jiggled when Luffy’s palm made contact.

Law cursed himself. Fucking hell, he told himself. Get a grip.

Luffy annoyed him beyond comprehension. Sure, Law admired his faith in the crew and his strength, but god, he was annoying. It annoyed him even more to think that Luffy was with you.

A week or so later, Law stumbled into the kitchen after a long day buried in textbooks. It must have been 2AM. Sanji told him there were leftovers in the fridge, so he was going to grab a plate and get back to his cabin.

His eyes were met with a sight that would be seared into his brain forever. He took in the whole scene, in an instant.

Luffy’s back was facing Law, and his shorts were pooled at his feet. You were on the counter, legs spread, naked, with your arms thrown around Luffy’s neck.

He was fucking you, and wet slapping noises sounded through the room—it was a wonder Law hadn’t heard them on his way to the kitchen.

While Luffy fucked you, Law’s eyes darted to the counter. There was a discarded plate of meat a few feet away from where you were being railed. Law put the pieces together. It looks like Luffy wanted a midnight snack, but he found a meal instead.

In the split second that Law stood in the doorway, you locked eyes. Your eyes were lidded, your mouth hung open and sweet sounds were falling from your lips. Your cheeks were ruddy, and your hair was askew.

Law couldn’t pull himself away. His heart did a twisting thing seeing your eyes glossy and lustful like this, and he didn’t even think about looking at your cunt yet. He was entranced, getting harder by the millisecond.

Luffy’s head turned.

“Oh, Traffy!” The captain smiled and did his classic goofy laugh. “Funny seeing you here!”

“Fuck, Strawhat.” Law choked out the words, incredulous. “Can’t you do that in your room?”

Luffy’s hips kept crashing into yours. “What, you don’t wanna try some?”

Law froze. Was Luffy offering you up like some sort of meal? Asking him if he wanted a taste? Law’s cock twitched in his pants. He knew he shouldn’t indulge in this. It was wildly out of character and felt downright wrong. But the way you just sat there, taking Luffy’s cock with that fucked-out look on your face tortured him. He wanted you.

“C’monnnnn,” Luffy entreated him. “I think she wants you too.”

Law blinked, speechless as he saw your hand creep over to your clit. You started to draw circles on it, eyes locked onto Law’s still. What little shred of reason and inhibition left in Law was thrown unabashedly out the window the second he saw your fingers rub your sensitive bud like that.

Without a word, you nodded at Law eagerly and he felt his body go into autopilot. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of you, hard cock lining up with your entrance.

A fleeting moment of reason flashed through his mind. What the fuck am I doing? He banished the thought and brought himself back to the present. You were ready for him.

Your folds were already dripping wet and inflamed. Law’s hands were on your hips and your fingers snaked up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. He watched your pupils dilate barely, and his heart stopped for a second. He knew what that meant.

Law pressed into you slowly, and you arched your back with a whine, swallowing up his inches greedily, like it was nothing. His cock was girthier and longer than Luffy’s, stretching you out deliciously. It felt better than you could have imagined. And yes, you had imagined it before. How could you not?

Law didn’t even register that Luffy was next to him, fucking his own fist to the sight of Law’s shaft disappearing in you.

“Law, fuck.”

His name coming out of your mouth sounded like music to him. It tingled in his ears, raised his pulse, made blush creep up his neck. He rolled his hips into your core, producing sparks of electrifying pleasure every time his tip nudged your g-spot.

Your walls clenched around Law’s cock and he let out a low groan. The way you were staring up at him, the way that your tits bounced so prettily on your chest, the feeling of your fingers pulling on his hair—it was all going to his head.

“Hey Traffy,” Luffy’s jarring voice cut through Law’s dreamlike state and reminded him of what was actually happening. “Doesn’t she feel so mushy and warm? She likes it when you get her all messed up inside.”

Before Law could choke out an answer, you pulled his neck down and crashed your lips into his. When your legs wrapped around him and squeezed him closer, he was so turned on that he felt like he was going to pass out.

Of course, you loved Luffy’s cock. He knew your body inside and out. But Law’s cock was just different, in a good way. Before he initially pushed it into you, you had observed that Law’s tip was redder and more inflamed than Luffy’s usually was. It was a bit curved too, just barely, and his head was more defined.

Law fucked you differently than Luffy, too. Law treated you delicately and gently, like he was worried he’d hurt you. His eyes were so innocent and shocked that it made your heart melt, and his thrusts were haphazard. Each breath was ragged and shuddering. He was so obviously nervous and flustered.

Luffy kept stroking himself as Law get worked up and lost in pleasure fucking you. Anything having to do with you turned Luffy on—regardless of who was fucking you, Luffy was just happy to see you wet and panting.

Each jerk of Law’s cock into you elicited some desperate variation of a groan or grunt from him. You had admittedly underestimated how muscular the doctor was. He was shredded—his pecs were defined and hard, along with his arms, abs, every part of him. His tattoos emphasized how gorgeous he was.

“Don’t keep her all to yourself, Traffy,” Luffy frowned and huffed. He liked to see you getting ravaged like this, but he wasn’t full yet. “Wait, I have an idea.”

Law paused his hips and pulled out of you. When you whimpered at the emptiness, he felt like he would implode.

Luffy commanded Law to lay down on the floor (which initially Law thought “fuck no” to, but he realized that he’d have to comply if he wanted more of you). You sat on top of Law, cowgirl-style. As you sunk down on his cock, his hips bucked up inadvertently. He threw his head back and turned crimson—he could hardly control his body and it was taking every morsel of discipline to stay still.

Luffy told you to lean forward. You collapsed, bracing yourself on Law’s bare chest with your ass in the air. Law’s heart was beating so fast that you could feel it, and if he didn’t know better, he would have been worried it would stop entirely.

As you nuzzled your face in the crook of Law’s neck, Luffy positioned himself behind you. He started loosening up your other hole, working it open gradually as you let out sounds of whiny protest.

While you laid there nestled up to him, Law could feel you pulse around his cock. You cockwarmed him few minutes before Luffy decided you were sufficiently loosened up. Each rogue throb of your cunt made him feel crazier. He had half a mind to flip you over and fuck you prone bone until you screamed his name.

Meanwhile, the captain spat in his hand and rubbed saliva and his precum down his shaft, lubing up before he pressed his tip to your entrance. “You ready for me?” He asked gruffly, and when you nodded into Law’s neck, Luffy began to enter you.

You moaned in what was a mixture of pleasure and pain. Law could feel the pressure from Luffy’s cock making you tighter. He couldn’t comprehend the reality of this situation. If he had been in his right mind, he would have just ran out of the room the second he saw you and Luffy fucking. But he wasn’t in his right mind, and he hadn’t been since the first time he saw you.

When Luffy bottomed out you twitched in discomfort. “Luffyyy.” Law could hear the frown in your voice. He felt your hot breath on his neck, and it gave him goosebumps. “It hurts. ‘m too full.”

“Hang onnnn, it’ll feel good soon.” Luffy responded carelessly, rolling his eyes. He started to rock his hips into you slowly. Law laid motionlessly with his cock in you. He was worried about hurting you. He closed his eyes. No point in watching Luffy fuck you from this angle.

After a minute or so, you let out a muffled keen in Law’s neck. You latched your lips onto it and sucked harshly; his breath hitched.

Nothing could beat the feeling of being filled up like this. Sometimes Luffy would do it with toys, but having another cock inside you along with Luffy’s was just an unreal sensation. The pleasure wasn’t just in the feeling of being double penetrated—that was an added bonus. What set this apart from the toys Luffy would use on you was the fact that Law’s cock was real, warm, fleshy, and jumping. It was accompanied by a man, by this man, who looked even better up close, blushing bright red and buried inside of you. He smelled good, musky and clean at the same time, he looked hot with his hair ruffled a bit, and his stubble felt nice anytime it brushed your cheek.

When you were warmed up enough, you started to grind down on Law’s cock and back into Luffy’s, effectively fucking yourself harder with both. Now that heat was burning in your cunt again, you were insatiable.

“I told you it would feel good,” Luffy teased when he felt you pushing back on his cock, and you murmured a quiet “mmmhmmm.”

You moved your lips from Law’s neck to his ear, biting on his earlobe. He inhaled sharply again. You somehow managed to turn him on more than he thought was possible. “Harder, Law.”

He jerked his hips up at your words and you moaned again, directly into his ear. That was almost too much. He was holding on for dear life. Your lips wandered from his ear to his jawline and smashed onto his, giving him sloppy kisses as you fucked yourself with his cock. You bit his lip and parted his lips with your tongue. He was a spectacular kisser. You suspected as much.

Luffy’s shaft in your ass made you feel extra tight—Law couldn’t believe how good you felt. He felt like he was floating in pleasure. His hands came up to rest on your waist as he pushed up into you—he (once again) forgot Luffy was there.

Your thighs shook and Law groaned with every thrust. His voice was deep, carnal, and gravelly.

Luffy could tell that you were about to cum. He pulled out.

“Traffy, you can cum in her. I know she’s hungry for me, so I’ll wait.”

“L-law,” you mewled into his mouth and pulled your lips away from his. A string of saliva connected your bottom lips. “I’m close. Fuck me harder. I need you.”

Law nodded clumsily. If he was more cognizant of reality, he would have thought it was odd for Luffy to just pronounce and claim that it was fine if he (Law) came in you. But since you didn’t seem to have a problem with it, he guessed that he didn’t either. (You didn’t have a problem with any of it, and Luffy knew that.)

Law’s hands wandered down to grab rough fistfuls of your ass, kneading and pulling your cheeks apart as he rutted his cock up feverishly.

“Gonna cum, Law” your voice was strained.

“F-Fuck, do it,” he grunted, breathless. “Cum for me.”

You bounced on Law’s cock, desperately angling him towards your g-spot for a few more moments before you started to squirm and writhe, whining his name at a deafening level. You convulsed in pleasure, creaming around his cock in ecstasy.

Feeling you spasm around him and moan his name—something he had fantasized about countless times before—sent him over the edge. He shuddered and bucked into you one last time before he was completely lost in oblivion. His hot cum exploded in you as his whole body tensed.

Law’s seed oozed out of your cunt and down his shaft as he let out one last body-wracking groan—but you cut him off with a kiss, a passionate and sweet one. He didn’t know the nature of your relationship with Luffy, but he wondered if you kissed Luffy like this. Your kisses were tender and soft, unexpected and welcomed.

“Gosh, I know you like him a lot, but I’m starving over here.” Luffy complained impatiently and you pulled away from Law’s lips with a smile. Luffy rolled his eyes. “You guys can keep kissing later but now it’s my turn.”

Law was confused but tickled, beyond his better judgment. Had he heard that right? You liked him a lot? He could keep kissing you later?

When you pulled yourself off Law’s cock, Luffy picked you up and sat upright. He made you straddle him as he fucked you silly. Law, in a daze, watched Luffy coax another orgasm out of you, and when Luffy came inside of you he pulled you off his cock and sat you up straight. You could hardly hold yourself up.

“There. Law, your turn now. Go get her cleaned up or keep fucking her, I don’t care. I’m gonna get something to eat.” You giggled and Law sat up on his elbows. Both of those things happened, coincidentally enough—Law got you cleaned up then brought you back to his bed and fucked another couple orgasms out of you; it should go without saying, but they were euphoric and toe-curling. It wouldn’t be the last time.

ta-da!! i think this is another one of my faves so far for my kinktober thingy.

here’s my masterlist and here’s my posting schedule for october.

also, trick or treat?

[p0orbaby]

Tropicana with the Bits

summary: honeymoon sex on a boat? yes fucking please

warnings: SMUT 18+, public sex (boat), strap-on use, use of a camera, spit, spanking, dom!ale vibes

a/n: this has been sat half cooked in my draft for a while. a certain blonde’s performances in the olympics have spurred me to finish it��

word count: 1.4k

-

This is the fucking life.

The sun. The sea. And a ‘24 quadruple under your belt.

Oh, and a shiny new ring and a brand new wife to tie everything up nicely.

Like a lazy, spoiled cat, you stretch out on the deck of the yacht, the gentle rocking of the boat a sleep-inducing background rhythm. The Mediterranean sun kisses your skin, leaving a warm, tingling sensation that pairs well with the salt of the sea air. A soft breeze rustles the pages of a magazine you’ve abandoned, and the distant squawk of gulls mingles with the sound of waves lapping against the hull. You close your eyes, letting the tranquility wash over you.

Alexia commands the helm, her presence undeniable even in stillness. Dressed in a white linen shirt, unbuttoned to reveal her abs and the curves of her breasts, and a harness snug against her hips, she looks like a wild, untamed champion. The breeze teases her hair, and her eyes meet yours with a predatory gaze.

You think back to the first time you met her on the pitch. Mature for her age, dominating the midfield with grace and power, even back then. And you hated it. You hated how she skipped past you like you were nothing. Discarding you like you were dirt on the bottom of her boots.

She was so effortlessly good, it drove you mad.

Mad to the point that there wasn’t a second that went by that your thoughts weren’t filled with one Alexia putellas. Her smirk emblazoned on the inside of you eyeless every time you tried to sleep. Her intensity clouding your head enough to make you miss simple passes, your concentration shattered by the mere thought of her. She haunted your dreams and invaded your waking moments, a constant, maddening presence.

And things haven’t really changed.

She looks at you with that same intensity, but you know it’s because she’s thinking about what position she likes you in best, not the fastest way in which she can embarrass you on the grass. Your brain is still plagued by the thought of her, but now you know what she’s hiding underneath those jerseys, so your brain fog is warranted.

You are certain your wife is made by the gods themselves.

Leaving the wheel, she approaches with a slow, deliberate stride. Her shirt billows open, exposing more of her tanned skin and the black strap-on jutting proudly from her hips. The sight sends a rush of heat through you, your body aching for her touch.

Or aching from how much she has touched thus far into your honeymoon. You can’t tell, and you don’t care to. This is your time to celebrate, to relax and enjoy your freedom. Her touch, her voice, her presence—everything about Alexia drives you wild with desire. You remember the late-night whispers and her mischievous grin when she suggested bringing a camera on this trip. The memories of your wedding night flood back, the way she took you on the balcony of your suite, moonlight caressing your intertwined bodies.

This time, there’s a camera set up in the corner, its lens catching the light like a voyeur. A wedding gift from you to her, both the camera and its purpose. The idea of being filmed, of capturing these intimate moments forever, had always excited her, and after years of her playful begging, you finally relented.

So here you are, as naked as the day you were born, squirming slightly as anticipation coils in your belly.

Alexia kneels beside you, her hands cool against your heated skin as she traces patterns on your stomach. The strap brushes against your thigh, a teasing promise of what she has in store for you. She leans down, her lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. Her tongue explores your mouth, her teeth grazing your lower lip, and you melt into her. Her other hand grips your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck, where she leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses.

She pulls back, her eyes dark with desire. “¿Estás preparada?” she murmurs, her voice a low growl. You nod, your breath hitching in your throat. She smirks, her fingers trailing down your body to part your thighs. Her touch is confident, experienced, each stroke designed to drive you wild. She pauses, glancing at the camera, her eyes gleaming with excitement before returning her focus to you.

The first thrust is slow, deliberate, the strap filling you inch by inch. You gasp, your hands clutching at her shoulders, your nails digging into her skin through her shirt. She moves with a rhythm that’s almost hypnotic, each stroke driving you higher, closer to the edge. The feeling of the silicone inside you, combined with the solid deck beneath you and the gentle rocking of the yacht, is almost too much to bear.

Alexia leans down, her breath hot against your ear. “Te ves tan jodidamente bien,” she whispers, her voice rough with arousal. The words send a thrill through you, your body tightening around the strap. She grins, a feral expression, and picks up the pace, her hips snapping against yours with increasing intensity. She’s putting on a show, not just for you but for the camera, her movements precise and deliberate.

She pauses for a moment, pulling out almost entirely before thrusting back in hard, eliciting a sharp cry from you. “You like that, don’t you?” she taunts, her voice dripping with dominance. “You love being fucked like this, being watched.” Her words make you moan louder, pleasure and embarrassment making your skin flush.

Alexia’s hand slides between your legs, her fingers finding your clit and rubbing in slow, torturous circles. “Beg for it,” she demands, her voice firm. When you hesitate, she smacks your thigh, the sting sharp and thrilling. “I said beg for it”

“Please, Ale,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “Please, fuck me harder”

She smirks, clearly pleased with your response. “Buena chica,” she purrs, increasing the pressure on your clit as she resumes thrusting, harder and faster this time. Your moans grow louder and you’re certain you have just disturbed a flock of Caspian Tern.

Alexia grabs your hips, lifting them slightly to change the angle, each thrust hitting deeper, making you see stars, galaxies, andromeda. Her free hand moves to your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath catch, causing you to suck in breaths when she’s too distracted to press at your windpipe.

“Such a pretty sight,” she murmurs, glancing at the camera again. “All spread out and desperate for me”

She leans down, spitting on your chest and rubbing it into your skin with rough, possessive strokes. “Mine,” she growls, her eyes burning with intensity.

You can barely form a coherent thought, your entire world narrowed down to the relentless rhythm of her hips, the firm grip on your throat, and the fiery trail her spit leaves on your skin. Each thrust pushes you closer to the infinity, the pressure building inside you like a ticking time bomb.

Alexia’s hand moves from your throat to your ass, delivering a sharp slap that makes you cry out. “Take it,” she commands, her voice scratchy with arousal and sharp with authority. “Take everything I give you”

You nod frantically, your body on fire with need. She slaps you again, harder this time, the pain mingling with the pleasure in a deliciously heady mix. Her movements become almost brutal, each thrust sending shockwaves through you, your orgasm building to an almost unbearable intensity.

“Look at me,” she commands, her voice a growl that sends another wave of pleasure through you. You force your eyes open, meeting her gaze. The intensity there is almost too much to bear, a conflagration of desire and possessiveness that leaves you breathless. She smirks, pleased with your obedience, and redoubles her efforts, her hips driving into you with unrelenting force.

When you finally come, it’s with a force that leaves you shaking, your entire body tensing and then releasing like spring that’s snapped under the weight of pleasure. Alexia doesn’t stop, drawing out your orgasm, riding it out until you’re a quivering, boneless mess beneath her.

Only then does she slow, her movements gentle, soothing, as she helps you come down from the high. She leans in, capturing your lips in a soft kiss, a stark contrast to the fire behind her movements just seconds ago.

Finally spent, she collapses beside you, pulling you into her arms. You nestle against her, your head resting on her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. Her hand strokes your back, a comforting rhythm that lulls you into a state of blissful contentment. The gentle rocking of the yacht, the warmth of her body against yours, it’s all perfect, a cocoon of love and satisfaction. Alexia glances over at the camera, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, before she whispers, “This is just the beginning”

[livelaughloveluffy]

confession - portgas d. ace

a/n: im starting to run out of pictures to use for law and ace 😭😭😭 i'm going to forever and always continuing the hunt for more of these colored manga panels on pinterest, but if you see me starting to reuse the same pictures... no you didn't 😭😭

a/n: now that my brain has connected these fics with songs, it can't stop. here's the song pairing for the ace version of this series.

nothing but fluff here 💗

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the second you stepped foot on the moby dick, ace instantly knew he had to be around you. he didn't shy away from introducing himself to you.

instantly taking you under his wing, bringing you to all his friends, because he knew what to was like to feel alone and isolated, and he didn't want that for you.it really wasn't too long until meeting the infamous fire-fist, that he began warming up to you.

often making sure you were with him and his group for meals, sharing jokes and stories with you, bringing you along for small adventures and missions. he did anything and everything in his power to see a smile on your face.

that's just the man he was.

•♡•

by the time ace finally had a spare moment to check in on you, it was already late at night.. not wanting to wake you, he didn't bother knocking on your bedroom door.

a little defeated, he slowly began to sulk away from your door, when he noticed the dancing light of small candle shining on the floor leading him to a secluded spot outside on the deck where he found you.

"it's a nice night, isn't it?" ace announced, his honey-coated voice hearing the sweetness and thoughtfulness behind his statement. "how are you finding the rest of the crew? you're getting along okay with them?" he asked, sitting down right next to you, he put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close to him before he realized what he was doing.

the sudden burst of vibrant pinks on your cheeks called attention to his action, suddenly feeling the need to explain he started up "sorry, you just looked a bit cold. and i've got enough heat to go around" but with your eyes landing on his sheepish smile, you couldn't be bothered to brush him off. he was really warm.

adjusting to ace's warmth, pulling yourself a bit closer, it was only when you got comfortable that you finally began to answer ace's questions. "i'm doing okay... sometimes, it can be a bit intimidating to be around so many men.." your voice soft, and a little unsure.

"let me know if any of those guys give you trouble, okay? feel free to grab me whenever." he replied with his signature charming smile, giving you no problem putting your faith and trust in him.

•♡•

after that, there was hardly ever a time that you didn't have ace at your side. growing used to his boyish charm, his wide smile, his adorable obnoxious laugh, his huge appetite, and his kind heart, his presence was like a warm blanket around your body. all encompassing and comforting.

he had done more than kept his words. the amount of times he instantly and wordlessly stepped in for you when men got too drunk and handsy around you, shielding you from them and sweeping you away, when the boys rough-housed too hard with you while messing around, when you could feel the unwanted stares and male attention being seared into your body, night or day, time and time again, ace was there for you.

swooping in like a knight in shining armor, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with appreciation for the freckled boy. and he would accept none of it. brushing you off with comments such as: "it's no big deal!" and "don't sweat it! that's what i'm here for!!"

your connection was one that you didn't quite understand. the chemistry the two of you shared was truly unmatched, and it almost felt like second nature.

•♡•

one night, you happened to stumble upon the whole gang, laughing, drinking, and star-gazing on the deck. deciding you could go for a couple of drinks, you scanned the group, looking for ace. once your eyes met his, your feet started to move on their own, making your way over to him.

once you were within arm's length of ace sitting on the deck floor, it was without a second thought that ace had pulled you into his lap. a gesture you had greatly appreciated, since the darkness of night mixed with the sea breeze created an especially cool chill, and with ace's warm bare chest and devil fruit powers, you were able to stay nice and toasty cuddled up into him. while normal to the two of you, his friends momentarily paused as they witnessed this transpire.

ace gave them his typical sly half smile, as if to say "..and? what about it?" and the group returned back to normal, eventually shrugging off this little habit of the two of you.

it wasn't until you guys were enough drinks into the night that you started to lose count that you felt ace's arms pulling you closer so your back was flushed against his chest. ace leaned down a bit, putting his lips centimeters away from your ear. "it's a bit crowded here, wanna come up to the crow's nest with me?"

•♡•

once the two of you were alone in the crow's nest, as per usual, ace pulled you into him, warming his body to keep the night's chill off your skin. "it's a nice night, isn't it?" he said, his smooth soft voice was music to your ears.

"it is... so what's up in the crow's nest? any specific reason you wanted to come up here?"

he leaned closer to your ear as he began to whisper "it's not really romantic to tell you in front of all of those idiots that i'm in love with you."

he could feel your cheeks heat up as the blush appeared on them. you turned your head slightly to look at him with wide eyes, trying to process if he actually said what you heard. so he repeated it, "i wanted to tell you that i'm in love with you. i don't really know what it is, but i know you feel it too... at least i think you do.."

"i'd be an idiot not to." as your eyes met his for the second time in the crow's nest, you couldn't help the smile that creeped up on your lips as you pulled ace closer to you, and knowing that this warmth was now just yours.

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a/n: sorry if ace's fic is a bit shorter than the rest of the boys 😭😭 i honestly cant bare to look at my laptop anymore 💀 lowkey, it's hard to imagine a direct confession scene with ace because he seems like the kind of guy where the second you meet him, it only seemed to be fated to end up with him and every action and moment before officially making it official was really just like dating but without the title. (god i hope you guys get what im trying to say 😭😭😭) maybe i am just crazy though 😭

a/n: long story short, i gave it my best shot 😭😭 if i ever feel like rewriting this, you guys will definitely find out about it, but for now, it is what it is 💀

[parkerslatte]

Happy Together

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: mentions of Berons's abuse. mentions of injury

Summary: Apart of the Inner Circle, Y/N has to hide her relationship with Eris. When she is injured on a mission, Eris demands to see her and the truth is revealed.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

“Eris, I need to go,” Y/N said as Eris peppered kisses down her neck. 

“I know,” Eris mumbled as he pulled her closer by her waist, burying his head in her neck. 

Y/N held onto him tightly. Moments like this with Eris were few and far between. In public their passing glances and stolen touches were never enough. Y/N always craved more but that was never a possibility. With Beron still a threat to their relationship, Eris hid everything about his relationship with Y/N. Of course Y/N understood. All Eris wanted to do was protect her. 

However, Eris was not the only one wanting to hide their relationship. Y/N hid her affections and love for Eris from the Inner Circle. With relations between Eris and her family being rocky, Y/N was never sure how they would react, especially Rhysand. 

“I don’t want you to go,” Eris mumbled into her neck. 

“I don’t want to go either,” Y/N replied, threading her fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. 

Eris pulled away and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, he pulled Y/N to him until she straddled his hips. Y/N’s arms lazily rested over his shoulders. 

“Then perhaps we should stay here forever,” Eris suggested, wrapping his strong arms tightly around her waist. “We are deep in the Autumn woods after all. There is not anyone around for miles. We have everything we need here.”

Y/N giggled. “If that were a possibility, my love, I would accept in a heartbeat.” 

Eris pecked her lips and suddenly pulled her down onto the bed. Y/N laughed in delight and surprise. 

“Darling, I would leave Prythian with you if it would mean I could live happily with you,” Eris said. “I would be able to wake up with you in my arms every night. I would be able to love you in the open and the discreet brushes of our fingers will be no more. I will get to cherish you and be with you. And be happy.” 

Eris rolled over so his face hovered above Y/N’s. He smiled down at her, though it was saddened by the pain in his eyes. “But I know that is an impossibility.”

Y/N caressed Eris’s face. “One day it will be possible. One day we will get to live happily, Eris. And I will live to see that day and so will you. No matter how long it may take.”

As she looked into Eris’s eyes, Y/N wanted to cry. The pain within them was clear, the pain he only ever showed her. With each time Y/N saw Eris, which nowadays was very few and far between, the more tired he looked, the more scars adorned his body. But every single time he saw her, his eyes would light up and the smile that appeared on his beautiful face would always be seared into her brain. She never wanted to take that joy away from him. 

Y/N reluctantly pushed Eris’s chest and he fell onto the bed next to her. 

“I do need to go now,” Y/N said sadly. 

“I know,” Eris replied. “I do too. I have a meeting with my father.”

Y/N caressed his cheek. “Don’t let him put you down, Eris. You are a better male than him and you always will be.” Y/N began to tear up. “I wish I could be by your side.”

Eris wiped her tears away. “Sweetheart, I want you nowhere near that despicable male.”

“I know but I want to be there for you in case he does anything,” Y/N cried. “I cannot hate you being hurt, Eris.”

“Soon,” Eris said, hugging her close. “You will be able to soon.”

Y/N hugged him back. “I better be. Because not being by your side is the cruellest form of torture.”

“It is for me as well, my love,” Eris said, resting his forehead on hers.

Y/N pulled away reluctantly once again. “I really need to go. I have a mission with Azriel.”

Eris’s eyes darkened. “Be careful.”

Y/N pecked his lips. “I always am.”

***

It was over three weeks later when Eris paced inside of his cabin deep in the woods. Y/N was an hour late. Once a month they met without fail at the cabin and she had never missed a meeting until now. Inside of him, Eris could feel a sense of pure dread. 

The three weeks since he had been with Y/N had been agony. Each night he suffered alone without her. His soul called out to be with her. After the beating his father gave him after he spoke back, Eris remembered dragging himself back to his chambers and cried, it was the first time he had ever cried after an altercation with his father. All he wanted was Y/N and it was getting harder and harder to be without her. He craved her in body and soul. He needed to be with her. 

Now as Eris shrugged his jacket back on, he left the safety of his cabin and winnowed right to the Night Court. 

***

Eris had only taken a few steps into Velaris before he was immediately backed into a wall. Shadows forced the air out of him as Eris fought against the restraints. 

“You can show yourself, shadowsinger,” Eris spat. “I am not here to pick a fight.”

Azriel stepped out from the shadows. “You decided that the moment you decided to breach the wards.”

Eris cocked his head to the right. “Let me go, Azriel.”

“Why are you here, Eris?” Azriel questioned. 

“It doesn’t concern you,” Eris replied.

The shadows on Eris’s arms pinned him harder against the wall. Eris winced. The wounds on his back still hadn’t healed properly yet. 

“I am only going to ask you once more,” Azriel said, his voice low. “Why are you here?”

“And I am telling you again,” Eris said, feeling his power grow more restless. “It does not concern you.”

Before Azriel could even move, Eris burned through Azriel’s shadows. They retreated, hurt, back to their master. The shocked face of Azriel was the only thing Eris could focus on. 

“Do not follow me, shadowsinger,” Eris said. “If you know what’s good for you.” Eris turned and continued on his way. 

“Is that a threat?” Azriel questioned. 

“Yes,” Eris said without breaking stride. “Yes it is.”

***

Eris finally made it to Y/N’s house in the heart of Velaris. He had only ever been there once but he still recalled the address. There were many looking at him as they walked by but Eris couldn’t find it within himself to care. The only thing he cared about was hopefully the other side of the door. 

“Y/N!” Eris called through the door. “Y/N, please open the door.”

“She isn’t there,” a voice spoke up behind Eris. 

Eris stopped his knocking and turned to face the High Lord of the Night Court. Rhys stood intimidating in front of Eris but Eris was not intimidated in the slightest. He could find himself becoming more angry by the minute. 

“Where is she, Rhysand?” Eris demanded. 

“In the town house,” Rhys answered. “Healing.”

Eris felt his blood run cold. “What happened, Rhysand?”

Rhys brushed a piece of lint from his jacket. “I don’t believe you are entitled to that information. What do you even know of Y/N? I have never seen you so much as talk to her.”

Eris’s gaze darkened. “I know here better than anyone could ever know.”

Rhys stilled. “What do you mean, Eris?”

“Take me to her,” Eris demanded. 

“You shouldn’t be demanding things of me in my own court, Eris,” Rhys said. 

“I will do whatever the fuck I please,” Eris yelled, losing all sense of composure. “You will take me to see my mate, Rhysand of Mother help you.”

Rhys stood, shocked. “Your mate?”

“Yes my mate,” Eris spat. “Now you are going to take me to her right now, Rhysand, or I will not be afraid to burn this whole city to the ground.”

Wordlessly, Rhys led Eris to the town house. The moment Rhys opened the doors, Eris brushed past him. Despite not knowing the house layout, Eris knew just where his mate was. He simply followed that golden thread that led him to her. 

The moment Eris opened the door he nearly collapsed. Y/N was laying on top of a bed, bandages wrapped around her body. Eris rushed over to her side and took her within his arms. He could feel Rhys’s presence behind him. 

“When did this happen?” Eris asked. 

“A week ago,” Rhys answered. “We have kept her asleep to let her heal faster.”

“Was this anything to do with the mission you sent her and Azriel on?” Eris questioned. 

“How do you know about that?” Rhys asked. 

“Where do you think she goes every time she leaves the court for personal matters?” Eris asks. “She comes to me.”

“How long has this been going on?” Rhys demanded an answer. 

“Nearly ten years,” Eris answered, brushing Y/N’s hair away from her face. 

“Why wouldn’t she tell us?” Rhys asked. 

“Because she was afraid of how you would react,” Eris answered. “I may not like anyone involved in your Inner Circle but you are the closest thing she has to a family. She didn’t want to lose all of you because she is in love with me.”

Loud footsteps came down the hall and three faces peered in. One Eris had already had the pleasure to encounter not too long ago. Azriel, Cassian and Mor stood in the doorway to Y/N’s room. 

“We came as soon as Azriel informed us,” Cassian said. 

“What’s going on?” Mor asked, looking at Eris. “Why is he here?”

“Eris is Y/N’s mate,” Rhys answered.

The silence in the room was deafening but Eris didn’t care. He only continued to brush down Y/N’s hair and grip onto her hand. The slow rise and fall of her chest was reassuring but she shouldn’t have to be in this position in the first place. 

“Why didn’t she tell us?” Azriel said, his voice rising in anger. “We are her family. We should have known.”

“This is exactly why she never wanted to tell any of you,” Eris snapped. “She knew none of you would ever accept it, not truly.”

“Why did you allow him in here, Rhys?” Cassian questioned.

“Because he is her mate,” Rhys said. “And you know how serious mating bonds are in the Autumn Court.”

“I wonder if Beron knows you are here,” Cassian comments. “Turning up to another court uninvited would sour our relationship with the Autumn Court.”

Eris’s blood ran cold. “You cannot tell him.”

“We have every right to,” Mor replied. “You are an uninvited guest.”

Eris finally tore his gaze away from Y/N. “None of you are going to say a damn thing about this to him or anyone else.”

“Why shouldn’t we?” Azriel questioned.

“If you value Y/N’s life, you must not tell him,” Eris said, gripping onto Y/N’s hand tighter. “The main reason why no one ever knew of our bond and relationship was because I am afraid of what he will do to her if he finds out.” His voice was vulnerable and Eris hated himself for it. “I would much rather he lay his hands on me for disobeying him instead of her for loving me.”

The room fell silent and Eris let out a shaky breath. “I do not like any of you but I know that you will do anything to keep Y/N safe, and I appreciate that. But none of you will keep her safe as I have, as I always will. I will crawl to hell and back to keep her safe. I will give my life for hers in a heartbeat. I will put aside my own happiness if it means that she gets to live and be safe without the torment and abuse of my father. I will endure all of that abuse and torment if it means I get to keep her safe. If it means I still get to see her every few weeks, I will endure anything because I am in love with her. She is my mate and the centre of my universe, I live for her. Everytime anything gets too much for me or my father strikes me just the smallest bit harder, all I need to think about is her and I will have a reason to go on, to keep going, keep fighting. 

“I know you four see me as a villain and perhaps I am in your eyes,” Eris continued. “But Y/N sees me, the real me. The parts of myself I never show to anyone but her.” Eris turned back to Y/N. “You can kick me out if you want to, but I am begging you when I say, do not tell my father.”

When Eris rested his palm against Y/N’s cheek her eyes fluttered and her head turned into his hand. It was only a small movement but made Eris smile regardless. 

“Have you accepted the bond yet?” Rhys asked. 

“No,” Eris replied. “Because the moment we do it is the moment my father will find out and I cannot risk that.”

Rhys sighed. “You may stay here tonight. Don’t give her the sleeping potion in the bottle on the cabinet, she should wake up normally in the morning.”

“Rhys–”

“We should leave them be,” Rhys said. “We can discuss what this means when Y/N is healed.”

Rhys leaves the room, followed by Mor, Azriel and Cassian. As soon as the door closed with a firm ‘click’, Eris finally allowed the tears to fall. He brought Y/N’s hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against her knuckles. “We should have stayed in the cabin.”

***

The moment Y/N awoke her body ached and there was a bandage wrapped around her. She groaned as she began to sit up. The moment her eyes opened she was greeted by the familiar sight of her bedroom but there was one thing unfamiliar about it. Eris slept in the chair to her right, his jacket rested across the back of it. 

Y/N furrowed her brows. “Eris?”

The moment she spoke his name, Eris’s eyes shot open. “Y/N?”

“Why are you here?” Y/N asked. “What happened?”

Eris shuffled the chair closer and grasped her hand in his. Y/N gave it a small squeeze. “You were injured on your mission. You have been healing since.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you are here?” Y/N said and tugged his hand closer to her. “Not that I am not enjoying your presence.”

Eris sighed. “At the cabin. You didn’t show up and I knew something was wrong.”

“But we weren’t meant to meet at the cabin for another week?” Y/N said.

“Honey, you have been asleep for a week while you have been healing,” Eris replied. 

“What?” Y/N said. “Eris I am so sorry, you must have been worried when I didn’t show up.”

“I was,” Eris replied. “And I had good reason to be.”

“I have had worse injuries than this, Eris,” Y/N said, shuffling to rest her back against the headboard. Y/N patted the bed next to her and Eris obliged, wrapping an arm around her and gently pulled her to his side. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Eris said, kissing the top of her head. “You were hurt and that is all I cared about.”

Y/N nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. “Rhys knows, doesn't he?”

“He does,” Eris answered. “As does Azriel, Cassian and Morrigan.”

“How did they react?” Y/N asked, dreading to know the answer. “Did they take it well?”

“That is up for debate,” Eris said, lacing his fingers with hers. “But right now I don’t care about any of that. The only thing I care about is you.”

“I am perfectly fine, Eris,” Y/N replied. “I ache a little but nothing I can’t handle. But what I want to know is, are you okay? You mentioned a meeting with your father.”

“It wasn’t anything I wasn’t already expecting, let me put it that way,” Eris replied. 

Y/N shuffled on the bed so she could fully see Eris. There was a white bandage peeking out of his shirt. She pulled him into a hug. “I am sorry, Eris. I wish I could have been there for you.”

Eris hugged her back, cradling her head. “You were there with me, not physically, but through your love. You were the one who got me through it.”

“I love you so much,” Y/N said. “I wish I could show everyone just how much I adore you. I wish to not hide it anymore. I want to see you more than once every few weeks. I want to be able to hold your hand and dance with you at balls. We have been hiding for ten years and it hurts me to keep my love hidden. It is too much for me now.”

“Maybe your wishes can come true sooner than you may think,” Eris said. “Y/N, I wish to have you by my side for eternity and I cannot do that with my father still in power.”

Y/N pulled away. “Eris, you cannot mean–”

“I do mean exactly that,” Eris said. “I will kill my father if that is what it takes for you to be safe, for my mother to be safe and for the rest of the Autumn Court. I love you, Y/N and I wish for everyone to know how much I love you. I wish to have a family with you. I wish to have a life with you. And I wish to finally accept our mating bond officially.”

“I want that too, Eris,” Y/N said. “I want all that and more, just as long as it’s with you.”

Eris smiled and Y/N felt it deep within her. His smile always made everything feel okay because the moment he smiled Y/N knew he was truly at ease. He surged forward and pressed his lips against hers. 

Y/N welcomed them and wrapped him within her arms.

[vinelark]

what r some fics that shaped your psyche? you have so many good recs im currently rereading the to an athlete dying young series

hello! you sent me this ask ages ago and i've been meaning to get to it ever since. (it took me so long to answer that i'm sure you've reread to an athlete dying young by @sonosvegliato many times over by now but hell yeah, what a good one.)

these are a few fics--dc and beyond--that have been in my "in case of emergency" epub folder (aka fics i want to have on hand immediately to reread on bad days, or good days, or even average days) for a few years now. so here is an extremely incomplete list of fics that have shaped my psyche!

for dc specifically--if i tried to list all of them i would just end up repeating my whole fic rec tag, so these are just a few of the ones i read when i was getting into this fandom that stayed with me/made me want to seek out more for these characters:

📸 surveillance series by @smilebackwards

this series located the tim drake center of my brain and lit it up like the vegas strip.

🎒 like a hinge, like a wing by @bonesbuckleup

one of my go-to rereads for pangs; chapter one is a masterclass in tension. also, one of my favorite pre-robin tim pov fics of all time.

💻 nominal by @unpretty

"you don't get it, batman is a comedy" --conversation i've had with multiple people using this fic as my thesis statement.

🌃 the jingle jangle morning by @audreycritter

the moment somebody in my vicinity says "i love dick grayson" i'm on their doorstep with this fic url.

🚉 a meditation on railroading by @eggmacguffin

there's a moment in this fic known among my friends as "baby wipes jason" and it has successfully converted no less than three people to the fandom.

and then for non-dc fic:

🌌 atlas by @megafaunatic (mdzs & tgcf)

did i read this before i had a single clue who the characters were? yes. did i return to it once i did and lose my mind a little? yes. lore etymologyplayground writes that “so so so in love and pining so hard the lines between us are blurring and we haven’t made a move yet but it’s inevitable” flavor with such a deft hand; it is in fact called the lorezone. if any friends-to-lovers pining i write can achieve even 50% of a lorezone i will have done my job.

🪿 If they caught you by @feyburner (tgcf)

i go back to this when i think about setup and payoff, when i think about subtle misdirects, when i think about the monumental task of creating whole compelling new characters in 6k words.

🧪 away childish things by lettered (hp)

one of the best de-aging trope stories i've ever read; i think of this when i want to take a trope to its maximum potential and then go: no wait, there's even more.

(another fav de-aging fic is grow by @cafecliche; shorter plot but no less pangs 🌱)

🏡 in defiance of all geometry by @idiopath-fic-smile (les mis)

a fic that's a perfect reread when i need something cozy and full of character, and a perfect touchstone when i'm pondering something where the world may not hang in the balance but the stakes still matter.

📔 The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (cql/mdzs)

paragon of metahumor, basically. i think of this when i want to write something that's funny in both text and form.

🍚 and his wanting grows teeth by @yuebings (cql/mdzs)

masterclass in pangy backstory reveal; the way the first scene loops back around to punch you in the gut long after you've forgotten it will forever be seared into my brain.

also, most answers on this list fit the bill!

(apologies again that this answer is so belated; it took me ages to write up partially because i kept stopping to reread these fics every time i tried.)

[cherrys-writings]

Do you have any idea when ur next fic is going to be out ?

18+ only

Missed You

You stumble through the dark halls of your family’s estate, the promise of your bed the only thing keeping awake now. You round the corner, there’s a light under your door. Silently opening the door and walking through the sitting area to your bedroom. Through the dim glow you can just make out Grayson under your blankets, fast asleep with the most adorable pout on his face. You tip-toe by, slipping into just a long t-shirt and watch him for a minute. Grayson shifts around groaning, “So wet for me. Dirty girl, you gonna let me have a taste?”

You stare, open mouthed, at your boyfriend; his mumbles pleas pushing away your fatigue momentarily.  

“It’s been too long, Dove, need you to come on my face. Won’t stop ‘til you’re crying.”

Before you know it, you’re on your knees beside his sleeping form, kissing his stomach where his shirt rumpled up. Grayson sighs, but shows no sign of waking. You lean down to kiss your way up his neck, quietly giggling at how responsive he is, leaning his head to the side asking for more. Slowly, you kiss and nip your way to his ear murmuring, “Wake up, Gray.” 

After an eternity, he stirs, hands tangling in your hair, “You’re home,” his voice raspy, “I wanted to be the first person to see you when you got back, Dove.” 

He kisses you long and slow, like he could make the moment last forever. You pull away, resting your forehead against his, “Were you having a good dream?”

Grayson’s eyes widen, instead of responding, he pulls you down for another searing kiss. Tongue sliding against yours, savoring the soft gasps that escape. He groans when you suck his lip into your mouth, softly biting him. His hands wander down your body, squeezing your ass, sliding down the backs of your thighs, guiding your knees apart until you’re straddling him. You feel the rumble of another groan against your mouth when he realises you aren’t wearing panties and immediately grinds your soaked core against him.

 “Awe sweetheart, did hearing my dream make you all needy? You gonna let me fix that?” 

You nuzzle his neck, humming your assent and trailing open mouthed kisses along his jaw. He sits up, pulling his shirt over his head, ruffling his light hair. You let yourself stare and trace the familiar lines on his body. Grayson Hawthorne. Your Gray. It’s been too long since you’ve been this close to him. Though you memorised every inch of him, the curve of his shoulders and feel of his flushed skin against you, your sleep-addled brain needs to make sure he’s real. 

  “Now that you have me you can’t decide what you want.”Grayson gently lifts your chin with his finger, “How about you sit on my face, Dove? I need to feel you gushing all over me, taste you for real. Please.”

Your mouth collides with his, pushing him down on the mattress, hungerly silencing whatever filthy words were about to follow. He could make you come by his words alone. Pulling away and smirking at his lust blown eyes, you shuffle up his body, resting your hands on the headboard. Impatiently, Grayson hooks his arms around your thighs, tugging you down to him. Moaning at how tightly he presses you against his face, tongue slowly moving against your folds. Gray’s groans send sparks up your spine, arousal pooling against his mouth. He circles your clit with his tongue, the lightest touch making you writhe against his hold, it’s somehow too much and not enough. Grayson has an iron grip on your thighs, firmly keeping me seated when he seals his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. 

“Grayson,” you wail, nearly doubling over, your hands tangled in his hair. Tears pricking at your eyes at the tightening in your abdomen, moans falling from your lips. His name catches in your throat, white overtaking your vision. Grayson’s tongue teases your entrance, thumbs stroking your oversensitive bundle of nerves, as you fall apart above him.

“Taste better than you did in my dream, Dove,” Grayson murmurs against you. 

One isn’t enough for him. Grayson lazily drags his tongue along your slit, flicking your clit every time. You gasp, shuddering thighs clamping around his head. Vibrations from his groans send fire up your spine. Combined with his merciless tongue, you’re falling apart all over again, nearly going limp. Grayson manhandles your pleasure wracked body until you’re resting your head on his chest, unconsciously rubbing your overstimulated cunt against his bulge. 

“Fuck, I need you Gray,” you whine.

He chuckles at just how needy you’ve gotten, helping you clumsily take his pants off. Then he’s stretched above you, rubbing his cock through your folds. You watch as his leaking cockhead slides through your arousal, bumping your clit each time. 

Grayson pulls your hair back, forcing you to look at him, “you’re gonna look me in the eyes when I shove my cock into you.”

His eyes nearly black with lust hold yours as he pushes into you, groaning loudly, “fuck I missed this pussy.” 

Grayson rests his forehead against yours, grinding his hips slowly against yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, whining and pulling him tighter against you. Grayson continues the torturously slow rolling, barely pulling out before hitting that spot deep inside of you over and over. He bites and sucks along your neck leaving deep purple marks, pulling more broken moans from you. Grayson groans when your nails dig into his back, shallow scratches decorating his shoulder blades. 

“Love being inside you,” he pants into your ear, “never wanna leave.” 

You let out a long wail when his hand finds your clit, rubbing tight circles. 

“That’s it, Dove. One more.” he punctuates his words with several hard thrusts, punching the air from your lungs. 

“Grayson,” your words breathy, “Grayson, ff-fuck Grayson please. Pleasepleaseplease.” 

White overtakes your vision once more as you come, scream caught in your throat, clenching hard around Grayson’s dick. Grayson bites your shoulder, silencing the moans of his own release. He continues rutting into you, whining. He rolls to his back, pulling you with him to rest on his chest, fingers trailing down your spine. You let out a small yawn, fatigue creeping back in. 

“Rest up, Dove,” Grayson whispers, “I’m not letting you leave this bed come morning.”

[historia-vitae-magistras]

My brain is back on its ukrcan bullshit. Katya has been fighting for her life her entire life. The greatest and often worst warrior cultures Europe ever produced populated her rivers from the west, the greatest horsemen her plains from the east. Great is not good, not here. Her blood is her soil. She rests on the bones of millions. She is where empire's die, she waters her growth with their blood. Russians, Vikings, Pechenegs, Germans, Ottomans, Magyars and Mongols. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust and she rises like the stalk of a sunflower from it all.

And here is a boy before her, with a soul made of the same black earth as her own. Different, but still built upon the bones of those before and below. He has the capacity for the great acts of evil. His siblings and even his parents recoil in horror at what blood he can draw when he must. Katya does not. She recognizes it, the need for the skill, and the need to water one's own life with blood. She does not recoil.

But at the end of the first great war she plucks the blade from his hand. She commands his sister and his uncle, if they love him, to drum him and his gas seared lungs out of the army and send him home. Do not let him join the Polar Bear Expedition. She knows the whites have lost before another civil war has erupted from the violence of this first great war. Perhaps she writes to his brother, who did not come of age in the Great Game against her brother. Perhaps she harnesses his idealism in her favor, appeals to the zealot in him and tells him to save his brother's soul. Take him home. Keep his soul safe. Perhaps she is in the West, to command her case for independence as short lived as it is. Or perhaps she only writes after he has blooded her brother in the far north, dropping his rail guns and feeding her again on the blood of bolsheviks he turns to mist and gore. Perhaps he gets south, perhaps within reach of her. Perhaps he's strapped to the chair of a prisoner of war in a Kyiv prison like his countrymen when she says hello, I love you, good bye, survive.

In her hand on paper, his face in her hands, in his dreams, or maybe only in her prayers she wills him to let the soft in him survive. That she does not care what he does, the softness in him must live.

The boy who asked her to live with him with a loaf of bread in his hands, the ones her people use for weddings. The one who could braid her hair while she slept next to him in the light of dawn just because he thought it beautiful. She pinned those braids into the marriage style peeking out from under the scarf that will change his people's sense of themselves forever. The boy who put her first wherever he could and asked for nothing but her affection, if he had earned it.

She has blood enough of her own, steel enough of her own. She does not need his.

She needs his hands without the blood on them. He must go home, hammer his sword into the scythe. Reap not souls but the wheat from the black earth soil he learned to love as he loves her, as she learned to love him. He must hang lace curtains in his windows and pull bread from the earthen oven and love her. Be as the queen of Ithaca, as the Greeks who once rested on her Black Sea ports spoke of. He does not weave and unweave a shroud, because she cannot be killed anymore than the Gods who meddle in the affairs of man could. Perhaps instead of a Greek's shroud it is the embroidery is burned into him as obvious as the veins in his winter pale wrists. But he sings her songs, un-sings them, re-sings them in a thousand riffs in her languages, in his, in all of them. And perhaps, where the Queen of Ithaca took her signs from Poseidon, they take theirs from each other. Maybe her language has soaked into him like the blood or the hard driving rains of the steppe and the prairies into that black soil soul and when he prays it isn't to a God he doesn't believe in but to her. Maybe those words flow across oceans and ideology and he can hold her hand for a moment in their dreams while they wait, wait, and wait for better days. A reminder of a softer dawn that may yet bring forth a brilliant blue day to paint her hair and her wheat as gold and endless as the horizon.

[fcthots]

RAAAAA RA RA I HAD NOTIFS ON FOR THISSS

but I get it I’m finishing up exams rn you’ve got this boss I’m sure you did great 💪💪💪💪

All I can envision is Jason with a partner who thinks the extra violence is stupid hot. And you know, maybe they don’t love murder, but they’re not gonna discourage their bf from achieving his goals!!!

He texts them at 2 in the morning: “I’m gonna kill someone in a Denny’s parking lot” and they respond (not even thirty seconds later) with: “whatever u say beautiful do u need help dumping the body”

and you know, it’s partially because after you learned what Jason went through, you felt like they had no right to tell him how to live his life. And it’s partially because you know when Jason kills somebody, they deserve it. And a tiny, miniscule part of you also cannot stop remembering Jason, covered in blood, chest heaving, after a guy jumped you in an alleyway and Jason beat the ever loving fuck out of him before taking you back home.

HELL YEAH BABE!!! also i did unfortunately fail. apparently writing hardcore smut doesn't help you in calculus :(

You would not have thought that your first feeling upon seeing your boyfriend covered in the blood of a man who had his hand wrapped around your throat approximately 11 seconds ago would be lust, but fuck Jason looked divine. There's something so gorgeous and ethereal about him when he looks like that. You're not sure if it's the blood or how he defended you. probably both.

But that image of him standing tall over you like some sort of fucked up guardian angel would be seared into your brain forever. You'd be lying if you said you weren't transported back to that moment every time he came back to your apartment covered in some other threat's blood. Something about it shuts your brain off. It makes you feel safe, proves you're safe. He's protecting you. His chest is heaving up and down after the adrenaline rush, and his throat is moving with the effort of breathing.

You shake your head and snap out of your thoughts as you reread the message he sent you.

hey im about to have to kill someone in a denny's parking lot. can you get my hydrogen peroxide out for me?

Your face is heated with the image of how he will look when he comes home. You know that if you play your cards right you can get him to make out with you with the blood still splattered on his face.

You text back.

whatever you say beautiful. let me know if you need anything else <3

Is it bad that you can't wait to see blood in his hair? probably. nope. definitely.

[copperboom82]

Home Sweet Home

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (female)

Word Count: 9,439

Prompt: Broken promises

Title credit: Home Sweeet Home by Mötley Crüe

Summary: Still navigating the transition from friends to something more, Dean and Katrina's relationship faces a new hurdle after Dean and Sam find the Men of Letters Bunker - distance. How will they cope? Will Dean's birthday be the impetus they need to reconnect?

Set mid-season 8. Set in the Long Winding Roads collection (masterlist here), but can absolutely be read on its own.

AN: Hello! This is my third submission for @jacklesversebingo and my contribution to celebrate Dean's birthday.

Warnings: Contains smut, 18+ only. Minors DNI. Other than that? Uhh not sure - I guess there's some angst? Not a ton. Has a happy ending. Established relationship. If I missed anything, feel free to let me know.

Credit/Link: Divider by cafekitsune and can be found here!

Dean Winchester had no illusions about what he was. He’d grown up thinking that his life had been changed forever when the yellow-eyed-demon had killed his mother and ruined the only home he’d ever known at four years old. Now, as an adult, he knew that his fate had been inevitable. Between his mom’s family, the great plans that had been preordained for him and Sam – even if they had managed to subvert expectations – and now, most recently, the revelation about the legacy his father was…

No, Dean knew by this point in his life that Team Free Will or not, hunting had always been his path. As sure as he was that, whenever his time came, he’d die bloody with a gun in his hand. 

It was a life he had largely embraced, at least most of the time. That moment – him standing by his dad at sixteen, watching a monster burn while Sam waited in the car – was still seared into his brain. In his best times, Dean remembered it as the moment the pieces had really fallen into place for him, everything clicking and feeling… right. At his lowest, it was a moment in his past he questioned, wondering if it had truly felt right, or if he’d psyched himself into feeling that way because it was what he’d needed to do, to survive if nothing else.

It was in those low moments he let himself wonder if he’d have enjoyed a “normal” life… wonder what it might have been like and try to picture it. Until Lisa and Ben.

After Lisa and Ben, Dean had made himself a promise. No more wondering. No more longing. No more questioning. It was too dangerous – for him and for everyone around him.

You’re not a person, Bobby had told him on that last case, in his very Bobby way, when Dean had been spinning out despite the vow he’d made. You’re a hunter, meaning you’re whatever the job you’re doing today. Now, you get a case of the Anne Sextons, something’s gonna come up behind you and rip your fool head off. Now, you find your reasons to get back in the game.

It wasn’t long after that Dean found his new way of coping with the lows - mentally repeating Frank’s advice and trying to take it to heart instead of indulging the wistful part of his brain.

Decide to be fine till the end of the week. Make yourself smile because you're alive and that's your job. Then do it again the next week… I call it being professional. Do it right, with a smile, or don’t do it.

That shit had stuck with him in a way Dean hadn’t expected. Frank had Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, but damn if it hadn’t been what he’d need to hear. And damn if it hadn’t helped him stick to his promise.

Katrina Black, of course, was somewhat of a complication.

It was midday when Dean found himself calling up her number, juggling three coffees in his other hand as he moved the phone to his ear and listened to it ring.

“You better not be calling for the reason I think you’re calling,” she answered, and Dean was torn between smirking at the quip and frowning, knowing he was about to disappoint her.

“C’mon sweetheart, don’t be like that.”

Katrina Black had been a royal pain in his ass at first – an unwanted, unwelcome addition to his found family when he stepped back into hunting that only reminded him of that year. The year that belonged in someone else’s life, that had been some weird mix of wonderful and excruciating that, to this day, Dean couldn’t wholly make sense of. But she’d grown on him, quickly, and soon enough, he’d gone from being driven crazy by her to being crazy about her.

“Don’t pull that sweetheart crap with me, Winchester.”

Dean sighed, bracing himself for the conversation to come, and began explaining the latest to her.

It’d been a few months since they’d gotten together. Dean had done his best to keep his distance – they both had… but in the end, he hadn’t been able to keep pretending. Not after Purgatory. Not after losing Cas, again. Not after spending so much time thinking he’d never see her again. Not after realizing how much he’d regretted those self-imposed boundaries they’d created when they’d taken for granted they’d have a tomorrow.

Overall, it had been going well. She’d been scared. Hell, he had been too. But it had been for nothing. Once the truth was out there, their cards on the table, the two of them had fallen together without missing a step. Somehow, they’d managed to find the excitement and heat of something new, while getting to take solace in a relationship that felt as comfortable and familiar as a well-worn flannel. The fact that she was in the life? That she understood what his life was? Dean couldn’t have asked for more. He could be with her without breaking that promise he’d made to himself. Kat already knew that he couldn’t give her normal, just like Dean knew she couldn’t give it to him either.

It was great. It was the best of both worlds.

Until his grandfather came crashing through the closet door and Dean found his world sort of turned on its head… yet again.

“I’m sorry, you’re stuck dealing with what?”

Dean huffed out a humorless laugh and turned the keys in the ignition, leaning back into the bench seat as the Impala rumbled to life.

“Nazi necromancers,” he repeated. There was a beat of silence and then he heard Katrina sigh into the phone.

“You couldn’t make that up if you tried,” she said, and that time, Dean really did laugh. The disappointment underlying her voice made the guilt in his gut churn, but he tried to push that down.

“Trust me, Kat. Considering the weekend we had planned? This is the last thing I want to be dealin’ with.”

Henry Winchester jumping through time to magically appear in his and Sam’s motel room had revealed a lot of information and introduced all kinds of new… things… into their life – Abbadon, Knights of Hell, Men of Letters…

Of those things, the Men of Letters bunker and the key that went with it had been the biggest find. Initially, Dean had been in awe… still was, if he were being honest. But as the weeks drew on, the newness of it was wearing thin, and Dean was starting to see the downsides. Chiefly one downside:

The bunker, wonderful as it was, was located over six hours away from Katrina’s house. And unlike him and Sam, Katrina couldn’t just pick up and disappear. Not indefinitely, anyway.

It had been weeks since they’d seen each other – longer, if he didn’t count the hour or two he’d taken to say goodbye as he and Sam had packed their stuff to head to Lebanon and check things out… and he really didn’t.

At this point, Dean had started to lose track of how many times their plans had gotten derailed, but he thought this was at least the fifth. It wasn’t all on him – Katrina had been on the other side of this same call at least twice – but that didn’t make it any easier.

Part of him thought it might not have been so hard if he hadn’t been so used to seeing her all the time. Outside of Purgatory, she’d been a near constant presence in his life for years, even before they’d decided to try this whole relationship thing a shot. Then there was the voice in his head that nagged at him, reminding him that the distance had been hard with Lisa too, but nothing like this. He hadn’t found himself constantly thrumming with a need that he just couldn’t satisfy.

Of course, Dean was still trying to convince himself he was fine. That it was no big deal. Even if the situation was slowly driving him insane.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Don’t do that,” she admonished, though there was no real heat in her voice. “Don’t promise. That’s what you did last time. That’s what we keep doing.”

It was true, but that only made it harder to swallow. The fact that she wasn’t angry somehow made it worse too. Dean could have handled angry… but the quiet disappointment… the understanding in her voice, laced with a wistfulness he related to all too well… it was threatening to undo him.

“Kat –“

“It’s fine, Dean. Really. I get it… you know that.”

This thing between him and Kat had felt so natural, had fit so easily into his day-to-day, that Dean hadn’t realized until recently how comfortable he’d been getting. That despite the promise he’d made himself, when he hadn’t been paying attention, somewhere in his subconscious he had started wanting at least some part of normal again.

He missed her. But it wasn’t just the obvious stuff he missed. It was the little things he hadn’t realized how much he cared about. It was hearing about her day when she wasn’t working a case and she got home from work, or helping her do the dishes before they went to bed. He missed their bickering, whether it was over the music on the radio or which cereal to buy at the grocery store. Hell, he missed listening to her and Sam nerd out over old lore and whatever books they’d been reading.

“Yeah, I do. I’m still sorry. How’s about I swing back your way when we wrap up? Should hopefully only be a coupla days.”

He knew the answer before he’d asked, and her disappointed sigh only confirmed it.

“We’re shorthanded next week and I’m pulling doubles almost every day. Maybe the week after.”

“Yeah, alright,” he agreed, unable to hide his own disappointment, and the silence hung between them.

“You and Sam alright out there? I could probably come help.”

But as much as he wanted to see her, Dean knew it would be a waste. They were practically on the other side of the country, and to fly would cost her money she didn’t have, to drive would be too much time, and all for a situation he and Sam could manage without her. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Sammy and I got this one covered. Though if you’ve ever heard of something called the Thule Society, I’m all ears.”

She hadn’t, of course, though Dean wouldn’t be surprised if he heard from her by the end of the day with some information he and Sam had failed to dig up. A minute later, he found himself reluctantly hanging up the phone and navigating back onto the road, heading back to Sam and their golem sized nazi problem. The only thing he could hope was that next week would be better. 

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

It was around the same time the following week that Dean found himself picking up his own phone, this time on the receiving end of a very similar call.

“Don’t tell me,” he started and this time he heard Kat let out a frustrated sigh.

“Jenna was in a car accident… she’s fine, but I gotta go out and help get everything taken care of.”

Dean felt his stomach drop as he automatically sat up straighter in his seat. Jenna was Katrina’s younger sister - finishing her last year of college and the reason Kat worked as hard as she did.

“Jesus. What happened? You sure she’s alright?”

“Yeah. She’ll need a day or two in the hospital, but the kid’s tough, she’ll be fine. There was a deer. She swerved… rolled the car…”

They’d known each other long enough that Dean could hear through the gruff, almost dismissive tone Katrina was putting on. He was sure that Jenna was in fact fine, but he was equally sure that his girlfriend was rattled anyway.

“Kat, let me come help. You don’t need to handle this on your own. That’s stupid.”

In the background he could hear Kat moving around… drawers being opened, things being moved, but she paused, and Dean could easily envision her standing in the middle of her room, phone to her ear with that stubborn look on her face.

“I… no, really, Dean. I’ve got it. You don’t need to rush out there too. I’ve gotta deal with insurance and the car -“

“You tellin’ me I can’t help with a car?” he asked, and that at least earned him a snort of laughter.

“Sounds like it’s totaled,” Katrina admitted, “and we both know the thing wasn’t worth much to begin with. But if you wanna help me find her a new one when she’s outta there I’ll take you up on that.”

There was no arguing Jenna’s car probably wasn’t worth salvaging - Dean had been trying to convince her and Katrina to let him help them find her something else since before he and Kat had started dating.

“Consider it done,” he promised. “But seriously, Kat. Let me meet you at the hospital or something.”

Katrina took a deep breath and Dean frowned. That fierce independence he loved so much also drove him batshit sometimes.

“Thanks, but you stay put. I’m sure you and Sam got your hands full, anyway, and I can handle this. But I promise I’ll call if I need you? How’s that? And next weekend, I’m all yours.”

It wasn’t much, but for Katrina it was progress and Dean knew it was the best he was going to get for the moment. 

“Only if that’s a real promise,” he told her, just as Sam was walking into the room. Katrina laughed, and he was happy to hear it sounded genuine. 

“It is, really. And I’m sorry about this. I… I miss you. And I know this has been hard.”

Hard was an understatement, but there was no part of him that didn’t understand.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Take care of what you need to, I’m not going anywhere.”

When they hung up a minute later Sam was giving him a knowing look, tinged with sympathy.

“Trina cancel on you again?” he asked while Dean dropped the phone onto the table and leaned back in his chair. His packed bag sat mocking him atop the table in the war room, just visible from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah.”

There was a part of him - a big part - that was saying go anyway, regardless of what Katrina had said. She’d give him shit, but she wouldn’t actually be pissed, and it wouldn’t be hard for him to figure out where Jenna was and surprise her. It wasn’t exactly the reunion either of them had been picturing, and he knew she truly didn’t need him there… but Dean sort of figured it wasn’t just about pure need. Since he’d met her, Katrina had been there for him without question… had managed to make him feel, even if it was only in small moments, like the weight of the world wasn’t on his shoulders, and his alone. He wanted to be able to do that for her, even if it was just being a warm body she could hold at night and lending a sympathetic ear. 

Before he could put his thoughts into action, however, Sam was nodding and putting the laptop down on the table.

“That sucks, man. Probably for the best though. Check this out.”

And a few minutes later, Dean was reluctantly repacking his bag to head to Omaha instead of Boulder and heading for the Impala with Sam in tow instead of by himself. Duty called, and he and Kat would have to try again next week. 

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Of course, the next weekend was just as much of a bust as the string of weekends behind it had been, and so Katrina found herself forming a new plan and dialing a different Winchester than the one she normally called on these days. 

“Hey Trina!” Sam answered on the third ring, his voice bright if not a bit surprised. That made her stomach twist just a bit with guilt. “How’s Je-”

“Jenna’s fine,” she cut him off, “but I’ve only got a minute and I need your help. You alone?”

As much tension as there’d been between Sam and Dean since Dean’s return from Purgatory, she and Sam had been having their own issues even longer… since those days immediately after taking out Dick Roman had kicked Dean and Cas into Purgatory in the first place. It wasn’t something they talked about, and they had an unspoken agreement to keep those issues between them and not involve Dean. And for the most part it was… fine. They still got along. There was just that underlying tension… the ever-present risk that one of them would say the wrong thing, or accidentally jab at one of the scabs left from those arguments they’d had while Dean was gone. 

Still, tension or not, Sam was family, and Katrina knew she could count on him, just like he could still count on her. And as they talked, Katrina made a mental note that maybe when she eventually got to Lebanon, it was time for the two of them to have a conversation about it. They’d both been putting it off, neither of them looking forward to the inevitable confrontation and the memory of their last one still unpleasantly vivid, but it had been long enough. Letting it continue to fester wasn’t doing anyone any good. 

For the moment, however, Katrina explained her plan, or the basics of it, anyway - that she’d taken off a couple days of work for Dean’s birthday, that she hadn’t told him, and that she was hoping Sam would help her pull it off both by making sure he and Dean actually stayed at this super secret bunker of theirs instead of seeking out any more last minute cases - as he’d been so prone to doing lately. And, of course, she’d need his help actually finding the bunker too, since she hadn’t been there yet. For half a second, she debated sharing more, but decided it wasn’t necessary. There was part of her that worried the second part of her plan was colossally stupid, but the wheels were already in motion, and if it was, she didn’t need to hear it more than once. The rejection from Dean would be enough. 

“Trina, you know birthdays aren’t exactly Dean’s thing, right?” Sam ventured carefully after he agreed to help, and even though he couldn’t see her, Katrina rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, but c’mon. It’s not like I’m talking about throwing him a party or anything. I just wanna see him. And every time we’ve tried to make a plan since you two moved out there, something’s gone wrong… so I figured I’d try surprising him. And his birthday seemed like as good an excuse as any.”

“Well, trust me,” Sam chuckled, “He’ll be glad to see you. There’s no disputing that. He’s been pretty miserable.” 

And there was a sort of wistful quality to his voice that made Katrina wonder if he was thinking of Amelia. That subject, however, was a gateway to ones she didn’t have time to broach right then and there. She’d ask him how he was doing with all of that after they talked. 

“He’s not the only one,” Katrina admitted instead. 

“You guys are really serious about giving this a shot, huh,” Sam mused and Katrina chewed on her bottom lip, nervously fiddling with the bottom button of her sweater.

“Yeah, Sam. It’s… I… I know that it’s a little crazy, but -”

“You don’t have to justify it to me, Treen. It was a long time coming with you two, and I’m happy for you guys.”

“Thanks, Sam,” she said, touched by the sincerity in his voice. There wasn’t more time for conversation after that, though - her break was up and she could already see through the glass door that she was needed.

Two days later, Katrina was relieved to be in her Jeep, a case of beer, a cherry pie, and her packed bag in the seat behind her with what she hoped would make for a decent birthday gift tucked inside it. True to his word, Sam had kept in touch with her and had avoided getting him and Dean sucked into any new cases, and Dean was still none the wiser that she was coming. All that was left was the six hour drive… which, with the radio going, was no problem for Katrina. She’d done a lot more for a lot less. 

It was early evening by the time she pulled up to a nondescript, abandoned looking building, but the Impala parked outside and Sam’s tall form standing to the side of the gravel roadway let her know she was in the right spot. He was pulling her into a bear hug, one that she gladly returned, before her car door had even closed. It was so cold outside the comfort of her car that her breath hung in the air in front of her, and she regretted leaving her coat on the passenger seat inside.

“You made it!” Sam was saying as he pulled her in.

“Did you doubt me?” she scoffed, and Sam laughed.

“Sorry, I should have known better,” and as he pulled away, he was raising his hands in mock surrender. “‘S not like you’ve had to cancel a whole bunch lately, or anything. How was the drive?”

Katrina gave an affectionate roll of her eyes and shrugged, all the while trying not to shiver. Sam, seeming to notice, was already moving to the rear driver’s side door.

“Easy,” she answered. “No traffic. The fact that it’s a random-ass Saturday in January probably helped. How’s everything here?” 

“Fine.” Sam went to grab everything from the backseat, but Katrina took the bag and the pie, refusing to not help with something. “Dean’s been in his room for the past hour or so, doing God knows what, so have fun with that. But come on, let’s get you inside. You look like you’re freezing.”

Katrina followed him inside without complaint, though when they finally walked through the heavy metal door, her jaw dropped of its own accord. 

In the weeks they’d spent apart, Dean had told her plenty about the defunct Men of Letters bunker that he and Sam had gained access to, but she realized in that moment that it was unlikely any amount of talking could have prepared her for the reality. Sam led her down the wrought iron staircase and her eyes were darting everywhere, taking in the table with the map sitting center stage of the room they were heading for, the radios and phones lining the walls, and most impressively, the beautiful library visible beyond that first room - filled with books, and artefacts, sturdy wooden tables and comfortable looking chairs… it was a hell of a lot nicer than her house, and surprisingly immaculate, considering how long it had been abandoned.

“Damn,” she breathed out as they came to the bottom, her eyes still flitting around in amazement. “It’s like you guys found the fucking batcave.”

Sam snorted and put the beer on the table.

“Dean said the same thing.”

Katrina distractedly placed the pie on top of the box and made a face.

“Yeah, well he wasn’t wrong. This place have a garage? I’ll bet they left all kinds of cool shit in there if this is the entryway.” 

“We’re still sort of figuring everything out,” Sam admitted. “Obviously that’s the entrance the key works for, and you can see the library from here - I’ve already found a ton of lore I bet you’d be interested in… I can show you later. And there’s a kitchen, through there, and then a bunch of bedrooms down that way. Dean’s room 11.”

For a moment she’d been so caught up in awe of her new surroundings that she’d almost forgotten why she was there, but with the mention of Dean’s room, she found herself suddenly itching, desperate to see him after the weeks apart. From the look on his face, Sam already expected as much, and as soon as they made eye contact he nodded towards the hallway he’d indicated.

“Go ahead. I’ll catch up with you guys later. Pizza sound good for dinner?”

Katrina wrapped him in another quick hug, before readjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder and heading towards the bedrooms.

“You’re the best, Sam!” she called back. The sound of his chuckling faded the further away she got, her eyes scanning the numbers on the doors as she went, looking for 11. By the time she found it, she could hear her heart beating in her ears and took a breath to steady herself.

She wasn’t nervous - that would be stupid, they’d been together for months, talked damn near every day… but there was some sort of anxiety bubbling in her chest she couldn’t totally ignore. Pushing past it, though, Katrina knocked on the door and waited with bated breath, trying and failing not to chew on her lip.

“Whaddya want, Sam? I’m in the middle of something.” 

The corners of Katrina’s mouth threatened to twitch up into a smile.

“Not Sam,” she called back. There was a pause, and then a flurry of movement on the other side of the door, and only seconds later, it was swinging open to reveal Dean - wearing a familiar, blue flannel, his eyes wide with surprise as he looked down at her. 

“Kat?” Any concern she had fell away as Dean’s disbelief faded and a large grin formed on his face in its place - a grin she couldn’t have stopped herself from returning if she wanted to. “What are you - how did you -”

“Happy birthday,” she said in way of an answer, a sly, somewhat shy smile in place. Dean blinked back at her for a fraction of a second before hauling her into his arms, her bag falling to the ground with a resounding thud next to them. 

“Fuck, it’s good to see you. How did you -“ 

“Sam,” she answered into his shoulder, holding just as tightly to him as he was to her. “I didn’t want to disappoint you if something went wrong again. Figured we’d broken enough promises to each other. Hopefully it’s a good surprise?” 

She felt more than heard Dean’s chuckle. “The best.” 

And then he was kissing her with an intensity that never failed to take her breath away, even after all these months. Katrina felt her head spin, but gave as good as she got, molding her lips to his, reveling in the solid warmth of his body as they pressed against each other, and letting the smell of him invade her senses while the weeks of distance slowly faded away, leaving just them, there in that moment.

“How long are you here for you?” he asked against her lips, seemingly unwilling to pull away. Katrina got it - she wasn’t willing to either.

“Few days. I took some time off work.”

A grin split across Dean’s face, but before she could say anything, Dean pulled her into the air and she let out a surprised squeal instead. Her legs wrapped around him instinctively and his arms likewise found their way around her thighs, even as he gently kicked her bag just inside the door.

“No shit -” he started saying, already pushing the door closed.

“Dean! What are you doing?” she laughed, holding tight around his neck, even as he carried her further into the room. It wasn’t much, but she could see that Dean had already started to put his own touches on the space. Familiar weapons were hung in places of pride on the wall. Records and photos were placed with care atop the dresser. She had just enough time to notice that he’d set a photo of them on his nightstand, stood up against the lamp, before he playfully tossed her onto the bed and climbed in after her. It was one Bobby had taken, in those early days, before what they were now had even seemed like a remote possibility - but they looked happy, nonetheless, Dean’s arm slung around her shoulder, hers around his waist, and bright smiles on their faces that had belied what they were each going through at the time. 

“Unwrapping my birthday gift,” he teased. Katrina snorted, though her mind drifted briefly to the folder tucked safely in her bag - the real gift. Dimly, she hoped Dean would be similarly enthusiastic when she showed it to him.

“Brought beer and pie too,” she told him, and Dean groaned.

“Have I told you lately that you’re fucking perfect?” he asked, his mouth blazing a trail of fire down her neck. Katrina bit her lip, tilting her head to give him better access while her grip on him tightened. 

“Not in the past twenty four hours.”

Dean hmphfed but then his lips were on hers again and she was too caught up in the sensation to worry about anything else. He’d quickly become like a drug to her, as cliché as it was, and it had been far too long since she’d had a fix. 

“Gotta change that then,” he murmured.

They moved back deeper onto the bed, Dean pushing what sounded like a magazine onto the floor as they went and kicking off his shoes. She did the same, glad she’d opted for flats instead of her usual boots, and hitched a leg over his hip, pulling him in even closer. Dean’s tongue dipped past the seam of her lips, tasting her and exploring her mouth as if it had been months instead of weeks they’d been apart. Katrina couldn’t blame him - it had felt like months, and this felt like coming home. 

Her hands moved to his shoulders, eagerly pushing off the blue flannel shirt, and when she went for the hem of his t-shirt before he’d even fully gotten his arm out of the overshirt, he sat back on his heels, chuckling down at her but taking the hint.

“Eager, are we? Thought I was supposed to be doing the unwrapping here, sweetheart.” 

Katrina huffed and rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched into a smirk anyway, and there was no real heat behind it. 

“Then maybe you should get on with it -” she began, but the rest of the taunt died on her lips as he pulled the shirt over his head and her mouth went dry at the expanse of skin and muscle he revealed. Noticing her distraction, Dean smirked back at her, even as his hands found their way to the bottom of her own shirt, sliding under and running reverently up her sides as he leaned back down. 

“Patience is a virtue,” he teased back, ducking his head to nip at her earlobe before continuing on, his warm breath ghosting over her ear and sending shivers down her spine. “Not that you and I are exactly known for our virtue.” 

The next thing she knew, he was pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to the side. He unhooked her bra with practiced ease, and she sucked in a breath as the cool air hit her heated skin.

“Hell no,” she agreed, and Dean chuckled, his hands coming up to cup her, thumbs brushing over her nipples and pinching, making her breath hitch further. Despite having done this countless times by then, Katrina still found herself squirming self-consciously under his gaze, even as his eyes darkened with lust and she could see the evidence of his arousal tenting the front of his jeans.

“Dean,” she half-moaned, half-whined, and he ducked his head, kissing her quickly but deeply before beginning to move down her body.

“God, Kat, you’re beautiful. Missed you so much, baby.” 

“Missed you too,” she gasped just as he replaced one of his hands with his mouth, licking and suckling and doing all the things he knew drove her crazy. Her leg tightened around him and she ground up while her fingers raked through his hair, pulling lightly while holding him close at the same time. His now free hand continued its journey south, tracing along the waistband of her jeans before his fingers began working around the button. Katrina shifted to make the angle easier and he popped it open with ease, dragging the zipper down immediately. He started to move down her body, trailing kisses as he went, but realizing his intention, Katrina squeezed with her thighs and reached out, rolling them before Dean could even realize what she was up to. Of course, once he did, he looked up at her in confusion.

“Kat?” 

But she was already shimmying out of her jeans and underwear, careful to keep her place on top of him, and as she kicked them both to the floor her hands were already going for his belt, undressing him with the same speed. It didn’t take him long to catch on, and Dean lifted his hips to help her. Her mouth watered at the sight of him completely bare beneath her, cock hard, leaking, and begging for her attention. He was reaching for her though, and Katrina let him pull her back into his arms, relishing the skin-to-skin contact and meeting him in another desperate, messy kiss.

Both their hands were everywhere - groping, touching, holding - and then one of Dean’s was slipping between her legs and she gasped as his fingers parted her folds, circling her clit and playing with her entrance, a low noise coming from his throat.

“Shit, you’re so wet. Need you, Kat. ‘S been too damn long.”

Katrina rocked against him, feeling his length pressing against the inside of her thigh, and moaned her agreement. Then, in the space of a second, Dean was lining himself up, thrusting up and sliding home with ease, and they both let out twin groans as they came together. Katrina sat up, her head falling back in pleasure and her hands braced against his chest. The stretch of having him inside her again after such a long absence was delicious, the feeling of fullness something she’d missed, and the reunion soothing an ache that had been festering. Dean gripped at her hips, hard, and ground against her, giving them both a chance to adjust. 

“Fuck, Dean,” she breathed. Dean began to shift just a bit beneath her, giving small, shallow thrusts that were more rocking than anything. 

“I know, sweetheart. Fuck you feel so good,” he answered, his own voice strained. Katrina bit her lip and began to move, needing more, and as soon as she did, Dean’s grip became impossibly tighter and he began thrusting in earnest. 

The air filled with the sounds of their labored breathing, the slap of skin on skin, the wet sounds from where they were joined, and strings of bitten off curses and moans of each others’ name. There was nothing sweet or tame about their coupling. Every movement was filled with a raw need and desperation, every touch seeking to reclaim the time they’d lost. Dean sat up, throwing an arm around Katrina’s waist and burying his face in her breasts, mouthing at one nipple than the other while she gasped and moaned at both the feel of his mouth and the change in the angle. 

When he eventually fell back to the bed, panting and bringing a hand between their bodies, circling her clit with his thumb and his eyes locked on her chest, Katrina leaned back, bracing her hands behind her on his thighs for added leverage while she continued to move her hips. 

And eventually, as the haze of their initial reunion began to clear and her energy started flagging just a bit too much, Katrina slowed her movements, leaning forward again to brace herself once more against his chest. Their tongues were still tangled together when she reluctantly pulled off him, and Dean broke away, confusion clouding his eyes, but Katrina didn’t wait for him to ask the obvious question before she began pressing open mouthed kisses down his neck and then lower. Dean caught on quickly, swearing under his breath and threading fingers through her hair as she peppered his chest with kisses, her nails raking over his abs, until she was finally face to face with his cock, still coated and glistening with her own arousal. 

“Kat, you don’t have to - fuck.” 

His hips jerked of their own accord as she ignored him and gripped him at the base, licking a broad stripe up the underside of his cock before swirling her tongue around the head and swallowing him down. The smell of sex hung heavy, she could taste herself more than she could Dean at first, and it was sticky and messy - but all of it only spurred her on, especially as the sounds of Dean’s pleasure reached her ears. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard, alternating between quick, short bobs of her head and long, deep ones where she relaxed her throat, constantly working to take more of him into her mouth. Her one hand worked at what she couldn’t fit while her other came up to massage his balls, and Dean panted above her. His fingers tightened in her hair, and she could tell it was taking a lot of restraint for him to keep control. 

When he hit the back of her throat and she swallowed around him, Dean lost the battle. Katrina gagged slightly and she heard his head fall back against the bed, the grip he had on her tightening for just a moment.

“Shit, Kat, I’m so -”

“Don’t be,” she assured him, pulling off just enough to glance up and catch his eye, deliberately licking along his length when she had his attention without looking away. “I’m good, I can take it.” 

And then she was swallowing him down again, moaning around him, knowing the vibrations would drive him wild, and this time Dean let himself go, still being careful but giving into his instincts and thrusting shallowly. Katrina let him, keeping her throat relaxed, taking care to breathe through her nose and reveling in the weight of him on her tongue. The stream of moans and expletives falling from his mouth picked up, and Katrina continued massaging him, gripping at his hip with her other hand. 

“Oh, God, sweetheart you’re so - fuck, that feels so good. You’re amazing, taking me so good like that. Fuck, fuck -” 

She could tell he was close - his thrusts growing more erratic, thighs trembling, the subtle swell of him and the tightening of his balls - but before he let himself fall off the edge, Dean pulled her off him, the obscene pop echoing through the room as he hauled her back up the bed. 

He rolled them, covering his body with hers, face barely an inch from hers, both their chests heaving with exertion as he pinned her hands on either side of her head against the bed. His green eyes were dark with arousal. She knew she must have looked wrecked - her face a mess of saliva and their combined arousal - but Dean kissed her deeply anyway, seemingly uncaring of where her mouth had just been, and in fact moaning into her at the taste. 

“Why’d you stop me?” she panted when he broke it off, and Dean smiled, kissing her again.

“Because I’m not done enjoying my gift,,” he murmured, mouthing at her neck. Katrina could feel the tip of his cock nudging against her entrance, and she shifted, aching to be filled again. Dean, noticing her squirming, obliged, and thrust in easily, his forehead falling against her shoulder as he bottomed out. “Fuck, Kat.” 

“Oh God, Dean! Move,” she begged. 

He let out a breathless chuckle, but began thrusting, slower than before but deep, and Katrina lost herself in the feeling of his cock dragging along her walls. However, when she went to wrap her legs around him, desperate to be closer and her hands still pinned under Dean’s, he abruptly pulled away, sitting back on his heels. The quick shift had barely registered before he was manhandling her onto her stomach, pulling her back to him by her hips while he maneuvered onto his knees behind her. 

Dean wasted no time thrusting in again, this time setting a punishing pace. Katrina cursed, eyes rolling back into her head while her hands twisted in the sheets and she rutted back against him, needing everything he could give her. 

“Shit, you’re taking me so good, you’re so tight, baby. ‘M close. You gonna come for me?” 

Beyond words at that point, Katrina nodded into the bed, though she suspected it hardly mattered anyway. Dean’s arm wound around her, holding her tight while his fingers began playing with her clit at a relentless pace. His other hand moved up her body, groping at her breasts and rolling her nipple between his thumb and his index finger. 

The combination of it all had her hurtling towards her own release at an alarming rate and before she knew she was letting out a near-scream of ‘fuck, Dean!’ and her whole body was spasming with the force of her orgasm. Dean’s movements didn’t let up in the least, drawing it out, his own groans growing in intensity and his thrusts becoming more erratic and impossibly harder. Then he was following her with a shout of his own and spilling deep inside her, his one hand dropping from her breast to brace against the bed as he half-collapsed against her. 

They stayed frozen like that for a moment, both their hearts racing, no sound in the room aside from their heavy breathing until Dean slowly withdrew from her, collapsing onto his back and pulling her with him, letting her sprawl over his chest. They were both slicked in sweat, but Katrina didn’t care, nestling into him, basking in the afterglow but nowhere near ready to be away from him again - and she guessed from the grip he kept on her, that Dean felt similarly. 

“Best birthday present ever,” he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to the top of her head, and Katrina laughed breathlessly.

“Glad you enjoyed it, old man,” she teased. Dean immediately pinched her side, playfully, and she squirmed.

“You better watch it with the old man crap, Kat. I’m only five years older than you,” he pointed out. Katrina just smiled back, craning her neck to brush her lips against his. As she settled back against his chest, her fingers came up to absentmindedly trace at the anti-possession tattoo over his heart. She could feel it beating under his skin, heart rate slowly returning to normal but not quite there yet, reminding her that he was there with her, alive and well. 

“Mhmm, yeah. Whatever you say, babe. Seriously though - happy birthday, Dean. I love you.”

His arms tightened around her, his own fingers idly tracing patterns on her upper arm.

“Love you too, sweetheart. Having you here really is the best thing I could have asked for. This long-distance thing is for the birds.” 

She let out a half-hearted chuckle, though there was no humor in it - she couldn’t have agreed more with his sentiment. Her only hope was that he felt as strongly about it as she did.

“I’ve missed you too,” she told him, her voice gentling while she tilted her head up to meet his eyes. “These past few weeks have been awful.” 

“Yeah, they have,” he agreed, nodding. “But we’re here now. How long did you say you could stay again?”

It was the perfect opening to share the folder in her bag with him, but the thought of laying her cards on the table still made butterflies swarm her stomach and so she stayed put, telling herself that the moment was just too perfect to disrupt by moving.

“A few days,” Katrina answered, repeating what she’d told him before. “I took the week off from work, so my schedule’s… flexible.” 

A grin split across Dean’s face, and he settled back further into the pillows. “Awesome! We are not leaving this room for at least twenty-four hours.” 

“Oh no?” she snorted. “What about for food? Sam said he would go pick up some pizza. And don’t forget, I brought beer and pie.” 

Dean pulled a contemplative look before rolling his eyes dramatically, throwing his free hand up into the air. 

“Fine, you got me there. I guess we can emerge for food, but then it’s right back here. And we’re bringing the beer and pie with us.” 

Katrina laughed, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.

“Whatever you say, birthday boy,” she teased, stretching languidly, brushing a kiss to his stubbled jaw as she did. She winced only slightly as the way her muscles protested. “Maybe we could get a shower first, though.” 

Unsurprisingly, Dean’s ears seemed to perk up, his green eyes already darkening with renewed interest. 

“Now there’s an idea. Been a while since we tried shower sex. Got plenty of space for it here, though. What’d you say?”

Katrina rolled her eyes fondly, but that didn’t change the fact that a little while later she was following him into the attached bathroom. True to his word, there was plenty of space for both of them, and she wasn’t sure how long they took, but she knew if they’d been anywhere else they’d have definitely run out of hot water.

By the time they finally made it back out to the kitchen, Dean taking his time to point out things about his new home as they went, Sam already had three pizza boxes stacked on the counter, paper plates and napkins next to them. He was looking at something on his laptop, but as they entered he arched an eyebrow in their direction, an amused smirk playing across his face.

“About time. Was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about food.”

“Never,” Dean declared, immediately grabbing a slice. Katrina gave a small shake of her head, following after him.

“Thanks for picking up dinner, Sam,” she said, shooting the younger Winchester an appreciative look.

“No problem,” Sam replied. “Figured you guys would work up an appetite.” 

Katrina was long used to both his and Dean’s teasing, but she felt her cheeks flush slightly anyway, even as Dean grinned unabashedly and handed her a plate. 

“Damn right we did. Now, where’s the beer?” 

The three of them settled in around the table, eating, drinking, and catching up. Despite the initial teasing, Same tactfully avoided any further mention of their activities, and instead spent some time filling Katrina in on some of the interesting things they’d uncovered in the bunker so far. 

“I still can’t get over this whole thing,” Katrina marveled, looking around and then playfully nudging Dean’s arm. “You owe me a tour. This place is incredible.” 

Mouth full, Dean nodded and waved a hand at her as if to say yeah, yeah. When she went to shove him he ducked, clearly holding back laughter as he ruffled her hair and pulled her closer. Sam, long since accustomed to their antics, ignored them.

“Right?” he agreed enthusiastically. “The amount of knowledge here… it’s unreal. And we’ve barely scratched the surface.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean cut in, finally swallowing and rolling his eyes good-naturedly, “it’s nerd heaven. Still say this place has the best water pressure of anywhere we’ve ever stayed before.” Katrina shook her head, laughing.

“Uh hu, so you’ve said. So, c’mon, what else have I missed? It’s been weird, not having you guys around all the time, I feel so out of the loop.” 

From there they launched into a recap of the past few weeks, filling in all the details she and Dean hadn’t had time for in the phone calls they’d made. Katrina listened with rapt attention as they told her about the Nazi necromancers and Aaron and his golem, before in turn filling them in her own life - the few cases she’d worked solo, how Jenna was doing, the latest drama at work. None of it was nearly as dramatic as what the boys had encountered, but they seemed equally interested, and Katrina dared to hope they’d missed her as much as she’d missed them. 

As the night wore on, despite Dean’s claims that they’d be going straight back to his room, it was Sam that excused himself first. She and Dean lingered a little while longer, talking quietly, stealing the occasional kiss, and going back for seconds on the pie. Finally, it was Dean’s stifled yawn that signaled it was time for them to turn in as well. 

It was as they got ready for bed that Katrina found herself hovering over her bag, her stomach aflutter with nerves again as she froze in place after her hand brushed against the folder she’d brought with her. It could wait till the morning, but there was part of her that wanted to get it over with… and there was the fact that she had intended it to be a sort of birthday gift, despite the fact that she’d been increasingly second guessing herself as the inevitable moment she’d need to tell Dean about it drew nearer. 

Of course, Dean clocked her reaction immediately, and shot her a concerned look from where he was already climbing into bed.

“You okay?” he asked. 

Katrina took a deep breath. It was now or never. And she may have been nervous, but she’d be damned if she was going to chicken out. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” she promised, straightening up and quickly shucking off her jeans as intended before swapping her shirt for the one she’d gone to pull out of her bag. “I, uh, I just… I actually do have something for you. For your birthday. Kind of.” 

Dean raised his eyebrow, curiosity piqued, even if she was trying to cover how unbelievably nervous she was.

“Oh yeah? I thought you were my gift. I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said this was already the best birthday ever.” 

Katrina let out a soft huff. “Yeah, well… hopefully this makes it a little better.” And without any further delay, she grabbed the folder and crossed the space between them, stopping a foot or two away but within arm’s reach, clutching the papers against her chest and willing herself to stay steady. Dean eyed it carefully, seeming to pick up on the fact that she was nervous now, and she could practically see the gears turning in his brain.

“”I’m sure I’ll love whatever it is you’ve got there,” he said carefully. “C’mon Kat, what’s going on?”

Katrina took another deep breath, bracing herself. 

“So, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About us and this whole… long-distance thing we’ve been trying. And… I agree with you. It’s total crap. And I don’t want to do it anymore.” 

Dean had tensed slightly while she’d been talking, but then his face fell, and before he could say anything, Katrina hurried on.

“The distance, I mean. I don’t… I don’t want to be away from you anymore. Or not more than we need to be, anyway. So I… I’ve been applying for jobs… out here in Lebanon.” 

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise and Katrina felt like her heart was going to beat out of her fucking chest, but she bit her lip and held out the folder for him to take anyway. He accepted it, still looking stunned, and wasted no time flipping it open.

Inside was a copy of the one job offer she had already received, as well as a list of the interviews she had scheduled the rest of the week - the other reason she’d taken the time off from work. Behind the list were all the details of each position she had an interview for, and she watched as Dean’s eyes skimmed over it all, his expression unreadable. Despite her best intentions, she couldn’t help but fidget as the silence stretched on.

“I know it’s a big step,” she started rambling, “and I don’t want to pressure you or anything. I mean, obviously, I’d find my own place to live - I wouldn’t expect to move in here or anything. And if this isn’t what you want, or you’re not comfortable, or whatever, I don’t have to do it at all. I just thought -”

“Katrina,” Dean interrupted, finally looking up from the folder. “Breathe, sweetheart.” 

Her mouth snapped shut, and she wrung her hands anxiously, waiting and bracing herself for his reaction. A slow smile spread across Dean’s face, his eyes drifting back to the folder.

“This is amazing,” he said softly, and Katrina blinked in surprise.

“Really? You’re not… freaked out by it?” 

Dean snorted, tossing the folder aside. He then reached for her hand, tugging her back towards the bed.

“Are you kidding?” he asked. “This is fucking awesome. I can’t believe you’d be willing to do this for me.”

“For us,” she corrected gently, allowing herself to be pulled onto the bed. “I… look, I know you don’t do the whole chick-flick thing, and I don’t really either, but life is too short, especially ours. I love you, and I want to be with you, whatever that looks like. I’m all in Dean, I always have been.” 

Dean reached out without hesitation and cupped her face, pulling her into a deep kiss that she quickly melted into, relief washing over her. When they finally broke apart, Dean rested his forehead against hers, his thumb running over her cheekbone as he looked her carefully in the eye.

“Me too, Kat. But sweetheart, are you sure? This is a lot - too much - to ask from you.”

Katrina wet her lips, eyeing him nervously but nodding nonetheless. “I’m sure,” she promised, meaning it, before reluctantly letting some of the darker stuff that had been festering finally bubble up. “If I’m being honest… it’s not like I’ve really got a whole lot tying me to South Dakota anymore. My mom’s gone, Bobby’s gone, Jenna’s been away at school and she’s graduating, but who knows where she’ll land. I’ve got, what? My work? At a crap job I only took to take care of someone that’s not here anymore? A house that’s just filled with a bunch of crap memories and metaphorical ghosts? It was different when you and Sam were staying there… but it just… it feels so empty anymore. But really, if this isn’t what you want, it’s not like I can’t figure something else out. And like I said, I’ll get my own place, I’m not -”

But Dean cut her off with another kiss, this one just as deep as the last, his fingers moving to thread through her hair. And by the time they broke apart, they were both slightly breathless and Dean was wearing an expression she’d rarely seen.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I want this, I want you. And if you’re moving out here, you’re moving in with me. With us. This place… Kat, baby, it’s amazing, but it’s not home without you here.”

Katrina felt uncharacteristic tears prick at her eyes, and she quickly blinked them back, swallowing hard.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to crowd you, or for you to feel obli-”

“I’m positive,” Dean interjected. “I love you, Kat. More than anything. You and Sam, you two’re my whole world. I want you here with me. For as long as you’ll have me. Please.” 

“I love you too,” Katrina whispered. “So much.” 

They kissed again, softer this time but no less passionate. When they finally pulled apart, Dean was grinning from ear to ear.

"Best. Birthday. Ever," he declared, repeating himself from earlier. Katrina laughed, joy bubbling up inside her, replacing her earlier anxiety entirely. 

"I'm glad you approve. Now come on, old man. Let's get some sleep. We can start figuring everything out tomorrow."

Dean grumbled good-naturedly at the 'old man' comment but allowed Katrina to pull him under the covers. They curled up together, Katrina's head on Dean's chest and his arms wrapped securely around her.

And as she drifted off to sleep, Katrina couldn't keep the smile off her face. For the first time in weeks, everything felt right in the world. She was exactly where she was meant to be - in Dean's arms, in their home. And she couldn't wait to see what the future held for them.

[h-c-u]

Teacher's Pet

Summary: It's your first time being a TA, but you're pretty sure some of the areas your professor needs help with are not in the job description. 

Pairing: professor Toto Wolff x TA fem!reader

W/C: 3.1k

Rating: +18, age gap, dom/sub, exhibitionism, creampie, oral sex, praise kink, aftercare

A/N: Filth. Pure filth. Absolute filth. As always on my smut - YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME. 

Masterlist | List of tags

By this time in the year, you knew the students' habits and schedule well enough to know what you did and didn't have time to do between lectures. Sometimes you had enough time to go the library to do research for your dissertation, sometimes just enough to barely make a fresh cup of tea, and sometimes - like right now - you had enough time to get absolutely railed by the professor you were under - both literally and figuratively.

You were sure that by now there had to be at least some rumors, but none reached your ears. Although there was no way that there were none, considering all the times the door to his classroom or office was magically closed when you were there together (mechanical failure of course, it was an old building after all). And if on top of that, you added the smudges in the exact shade of your lipstick ending up on few papers he graded, the fact that (at least in your mind) the scent of sex clung to you all the time, and all the hickeys and bitemarks taking deeper color over the course of a single lecture, meaning that they were fresh... There was just no way no one connected the dots yet. But officially, you were never caught, and with every time you got away with it, you got even more brazen.

That's why today he waited just a little bit longer to grab your wrist, turn you around and push your face into the pile of papers because the thrill of finishing closer to the start of the next class was too enticing. He quickly pulled down the panties you were wearing, let them fall to the floor, and threw the hem of your sundress over your waist, so he could see everything. Without saying a word, he placed a soft kiss on your left ass cheek, a complete contrast to what he was about to do. He run two fingers in between your folds, while his other hand was unbuttoning his pants and freeing the already hard cock. Both of you were expecting this to happen since the day started, you just weren't sure exactly when it would happen. So, every time your eyes crossed, every time you accidentally touched each other, every time you said each other’s names, it was almost like edging, but on a completely different and surreal level.

Sure, he could prepare you more, but he knew you loved that moment when the burn disappeared and suddenly there was only pleasure consuming your body, that's why he run his cock between your folds just enough to lubricate himself and slammed all the way in one swift move. You didn't have time to mentally prepare yourself for the familiar sensation, even though it was seared in your brain forever by now. He didn't wait at all before setting a brutal pace and pushing your hips into the edge of the desk, while you tried to hold onto the crumbs of balance you had left in your body, so you wouldn’t become a ragdoll in his hands.

His fingers were painfully digging into the skin on your hips and pulling you deeper onto his cock with every push, causing your whole body to jolt across the desk and making an absolute mess of the exams the previous group finished taking about 15 minutes ago, but that was the last think on your mind. He knew your body like the back of his hand by now, which came useful in moments like this because he knew exactly what he needed to do, to make you cum as fast as possible; when to thrust, what pace you enjoyed the most, what angles made your toes curl, and he was making use of it all, trying to force a whole goddamn opera of moans from your throat. And if not the fact, that you could already hear the students gathering in front of the door, you would have let him. But instead, you reached back for one of his hands and moved it to your mouth to at least try to muffle the whines you weren't able to stop.

What you weren't expecting was him putting more pressure and pulling you closer by your head, so you were standing up, flush against his torso, with his hips still hammering against yours, the material of his trousers and your dress preventing loud slapping from completely filling up the room. He moved the hand that was still on your hip to the neckline of your sundress and pulled it down, freeing your breasts. He gave each of them a squeeze, which made you throw your head back and rest it on his shoulder. With just your nose to breathe through, you were slowly getting a little lightheaded, so when he rolled your nipple in between his fingers and squeezed it tightly, your eyes almost instantly rolled back. You were so close, yet so far, but the hum of a small crowd gathering outside made it harder for you to lose yourself in the sensation of... him. Him inside you, him surrounding you... He was everywhere, haunting every atom of your body and your every thought, and you were helpless against the power he held over you.

- Either you're cumming in the next 10 seconds, or you're not cumming at all. - he whispered straight into your ear, just as there was a sound of a bell coming from down the hall. You lowkey expected him to start counting down, but he just added - I know what I'm choosing... - after which he sunk his teeth into the place where your neck met your shoulder, and that was the missing puzzle piece that finally completed a full picture of you falling apart in his arms. But you didn't get to enjoy that feeling for long, because he quickly pulled out after finishing deep inside you, pulled up his trousers, and put your panties that were currently on the floor in his pocket, while you were still trying to catch a breath, leaning on the desk in front of you.

With your walls spasming and clenching around nothing, you didn't even realize when he forcefully guided you to your usual seat in the first row, sat you down, and pulled the neckline of your sundress back up to hide your breasts behind the patterned material. Before he moved away, he placed one last hungry kiss on your lips and wiped the smudged lipstick from around your mouth. You should really consider stopping wearing it because it was leaving marks everywhere...

At first, you didn't even register the other students slowly filling up the room after Toto opened the door for them because your mind was still frozen in that moment of blinding pleasure. Even though your body was no longer uncontrollably twitching, your breath was still quick and shallow, your cheeks were flushed, and you were sure anyone who looked at you would be able to tell that you just got absolutely railed, but you underestimated under-slept and under-caffeinated students, who worried more about their grades and exams, than the insignificant TA.

Only about ten minutes into the lecture, your brain started comprehending reality once again, and what brought it back was a quiet question from one of the students you became friendly with over the last eight months.

- Sorry, could you repeat that...? - you whispered after quietly clearing your throat.

- Is everything ok...? - she asked. You couldn't tell her the truth, so instead you gave her a confusing look. - You look a little bit sick... Maybe you should take a day off or something? - she proposed, and you prayed for the floor under you to open up and swallow you whole. She meant well though.

- I'm fine... I just can't handle this heat well. - you lied, hoping that your words would be enough to convince her because the almost-summer temperatures were abysmal lately.

- Do you want some water? I have iced one... - she offered and the look of relief on your face told her more than your words because she bent down and took a thermal bottle covered in stickers from her bag and passed it to you. - You can keep it till the end of the lecture. - she added quietly and went back to making notes.

- Thank you... - you replied, opened the bottle, and took a big sip. It was colder than you expected, but it was your savior, allowing you to calm your body once again. You took smaller sips over the next few minutes, but then you just had to look at Toto, and you almost choked seeing how he looked at you. You didn't, but a little bit of water still dripped from the corner of your mouth, and down your cleavage summoning goosebumps over your skin.

He stopped mid-sentence for a moment, his eyes drilling into yours, but he quickly regained his composure and continued the lecture. You couldn't comprehend how he could look this put together after fucking you so hard, his giant, heavy desk was currently on a slight angle. Not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle on his shirt, not a stain on his crotch. And then you felt it...

You were no longer wearing underwear. And he came inside you. It's not like it was the first time he did, but he never did that in the middle of the day, when there was no chance of plugging you or for you to clean up. You clenched up, trying your best not to let any of it leak out and stain first your dress, and eventually the chair under you. The panic and fear of finally being caught slowly coiled around your thoughts, but when you looked at him again... You realized that was exactly what he planned. He took his phone out of his pocket, and you just knew that the phone call he was taking was a complete and utter sham.

- I apologize, I have to take this. Y/n, could you please introduce the group to the concept of homo economicus...? - he asked, moving the microphone away from his mouth, his face all worried. He should get an Oscar for that performance. And you would have to work hard on yours because currently, your mouth was drier than sandpaper. You quickly nodded, took a sip from the bottle, and stood up, while Toto was leaving the room.

It took all your self-control to keep your voice leveled and steady when gravity was actively working against you while you were speaking on a fortunately familiar topic. You tried to move as little as possible, but you couldn't just stand there motionless, trying to will a large drop of cum from sliding down your thigh, with your mind.

Eventually, it did slip out of you, and you had to make a quick decision, so you started walking around the slightly raised podium, rubbing your thighs together as much as possible and smearing your mixed release all over your skin, just so it wouldn't fall below the hem of your sundress or just straight onto the carpeted floor. The sensation wasn't exactly pleasant, but it was much better than the potential humiliation you would have to face if someone realized what happened. You just hoped that if any of that panic showed in your body language or on your face, the students would assume it was because you were stressing about speaking in front of them.

But finally, Toto came back to the room. He didn't take over straight away, though; he let you finish your thought first, while he attentively watched your every move under the pretense of listening to your words. When you ended your short lecture, he apologized again, and you could finally sit back down, and pray that the heat you felt on your face didn't translate to the redness on your cheeks. You took another sip of water, eternally grateful to the girl who gave it to you, because it was the only thing currently keeping you from bursting into flames. After a very long moment, you were finally able to focus on the stack of exams you were supposed to be grading, and you did just that until the lecture ended. You gave back the bottle to the student and sat still where you were until the last person left the room.

- You're evil... - you mumbled much quieter than you originally intended, and Toto just smiled and walked closer to you.

- And yet, you loved every second of it. - he leaned down to kiss you, and you couldn't even pretend that you were mad at him, because he was absolutely right. Without breaking the kiss, he turned your chair, so he would be able to kneel in front of you, spread your knees, and roll your dress up, so he had free access to your thighs and what was in between them.

- The door... - you said quietly, and he just grinned, pushed your chair a bit further, and followed, so his whole body was hidden by the bench in front.

- No more lectures. And if someone will come for a consult... I trust you will be able to handle it. - he said and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of your knee, and another one a little bit higher. When he got to the mess of his own doing, he dragged his tongue across your skin, cleaning the stickiness that didn't dry out only because you kept your thighs closed since you sat down.

He was slowly getting higher and higher, licking every marked patch of skin, making sure, there was no more cum on your thighs, and leaving the pleasant coldness behind. But then he moved his hands to your hips and pulled you down in the chair, so he would have easier access to your pussy.

- Relax... - he whispered almost directly against your skin and licked the outside of your folds. You didn't have any other choice than to just lean back and enjoy what was happening. You were already turned on, but this... this was different. The intimacy of his actions made you feel all soft and warm, and you slowly run your fingers through his hair, causing him to look up. You wanted to say something, but you couldn't find the right words with his tongue slowly circling your clit and finding its way to your opening from time to time. The mere look of him kneeling in front of you was intoxicating, and the fact that he was slowly summoning another wave of pleasure to wash over you was only adding to the all-consuming intensity you felt toward him.

He didn't stop until he felt your walls clenching around his tongue, and even then, he didn't retreat right away, prolonging that searing pleasure you felt all around your body. Even though your orgasm was less intense than the one he gave you during the break, your legs still felt as if they were made from cotton. You had to grab him strongly by his hair and pull him away from your core, for him to actually stop and let your body process what he just did to it.

You were physically and mentally exhausted, and if not for the fact that you were still in the classroom, you would probably just fall asleep, because the emotional drop that suddenly came over you was strong.

- I need a break... - you whispered, with your fist still clenched around his hair, and it was the only part of your body that had even a sliver of strength left in it. He gently traced his fingers down your forearm to your fingers and untangled them from his hair...

- Come here... - he said quietly and pulled you down from the chair straight onto his lap, changing the positions, so he would be able to sit on the floor with his legs straightened, and you on top of them. - You were perfect today... - he whispered, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around you, and you couldn't help but hide your face in his shirt in search of familiar comfort. Sure, you two could do absolutely blasphemous things together, but in the end, he was able to take care of you in any way you needed. And after the whole day of sitting and walking on needles, you needed... this. - Absolutely divine... - he added quietly, placed a soft kiss on your temple, and kept his lips there. He allowed you to process everything that happened today at your own pace, so your brain could slowly catch up with reality and you could feel like yourself in your body again.

It took you a moment, but he was there to praise you and guide you through that path.

- You're staying with me tonight. And I'm cooking... - he stated, when you were finally able to look at him again, and you knew that disagreeing now would be a bad idea, so you just sheepishly nodded and let him help you up. - Words are still a bit hard...? - you needed a moment to think about the answer, and eventually, you nodded again, but there was no shame or fear behind your eyes.

Technically today wasn't even a hard session, but the sub-drop didn't choose, and all the emotions you were exposed to eventually had to spill over. First denial and anticipation, which already gave him control over you, then the physical overpowering when you weren't able to do anything but submit... And after that, there was fear and humiliation during the lecture, and in the and - he chose to take even more pleasure from your body, and it just became... too much.

You talked extensively about your boundaries, needs, and expectations as soon as you both realized that you wanted to pursue this type of dynamic, so you knew that if you truly wanted to stop, that option was always available. With time he learned you well enough to know what you could and couldn't endure at the moment, just by looking at you, which was both a blessing and a curse because he could push your boundaries further from your comfort zone than you thought possible. And yet, you knew that one word or gesture, and he would immediately stop. You couldn't get that trust, that feeling of safety from anyone or anything else. That's why you welcomed his arms around you; you knew that even though you couldn't find your voice at the moment, he would still be able to hear it. 

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :) Love, G.

[rotzaprachim]

of all the tumblr moments seared into my brain forever was someone so desperate to clown on someone from Twitter that they full on typed “healthy groceries are a luxury. You don’t need them to survive” as actual words

[cillpiines]

Deathbound

Zedweek Day 4 - Hermitcraft 9-10 / Death

The Life Series has its own designated reaper. Jimmy has some feelings about that.

ao3 link

My name is Jimmy, and this is the man that ruined my life.

Things used to be good! I was just another player, and sure I had a few silly deaths, but so did everyone. I had a nice base, good allies. I wasn’t even the first death of the series! No one could mark me as an omen any more than they could Grian, which is the really the way I think this should have gone. I died to his trap and at his base anyway! That’s two of three!

But I was happy and alive and sort of mostly respected…kinda. I was working on it! And I would have gotten there if this guy didn’t have it out for me!

You think you know how this story goes. I know you! Oh, you think you know how it goes! But you’re gonna hear it my way now and see none of it was my fault!

I met him back in 3rd Life. That’s where it all started. I was at Grian’s bunker with Scar, and I’d just gotten hit with an arrow from someone, so I went to try and hide lower in the bunker, but then another arrow-!

-

With a whistle and a gory thwuk, an arrow speeds through the small gap in the sandy bunker and straight into the lowered head of one Jimmy Solidarity. Rapid velocity sends the sharpened flint blasting through bone, tearing through the tissue in its way. There’s no time to react, no time to scream, as his skull is speared through. Jimmy can only gasp in agonized surprise as his body seizes, nerves lighting up like fireworks.

He collapses.

For a single horrifying moment, Jimmy feels all of it.

For better or worse, it takes no time at all for what’s left of his poor brain to go spotty and shut down.

Then, something hooks around his very being, deeper than his crumbled body and ruined skull, and it pulls.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for someone to die!”

Being separated from his body is not painful, especially compared to an arrow in the head, but Jimmy screams. His soul is peeled away from flesh, leaving behind the stinging numbness of fried neurons for a frigid detachment from the rest of the world. It’s a foreign sensation and not one he imagined when he got the invite to this experimental series. Is this what hardcore players experience?

There is no reprieve. As soon as his new eyes focus, Jimmy’s met with a pair of haunted, glowing, purple ones only centimeters from his face. He shrieks, stumbling backward and haphazardly swinging his limbs. The figure grins under their dark cloak at him, something horrifying.

In his scramble, Jimmy’s heel catches on something, sending him careening with arms circling wildly to catch his fall. He fails to stop screaming, because what he just stumbled over was himself.

The Jimmy of the corporeal world is face down, saturating the sand red. Blond hair is stained dark around the arrow’s point of impact, his scalp still tacky and leaking blood. The blue shoulder of his favorite outfit fared similarly: dark sickly purple with another arrow—

Jimmy tears his gaze away, but the image is already seared into his mind. He’s fine, his data is fine. He’ll respawn back home soon enough and it’s fine and he’s fine if this scary hooded figure doesn’t kill him dead forever right here.

He’s pretty sure he’s shaking, but it would be embarrassing for a spirit to shake, so he hopes he’s not. The shrouded figure hasn’t moved, still staring and smiling. Jimmy swallows and opens his mouth to speak—

“Congratulations!” it suddenly shouts, tossing up a handful of confetti that it got from who knows where. Their voice is as deep and dangerous as Jimmy had anticipated. The noisemaker that they toot is a lot less so.

Scraps of purple and pink and yellow rain down upon Jimmy, stark against his twice-horror-stricken face. “What—huh? Who are you?”

The figure swings their pink shepherd’s crook and hits themself in the head with it. “I am…Death!...Zedeath. I’m Zedeath. And you’re the first to die!”

Jimmy’s shoulders slump. It’s really over. He’s out of the game first for real, if seeing his own corpse wasn’t already enough to prove it. “First out,” he corrects, recalling Scar’s near-immediate demise at spawn. “My name is Jimmy.” He’d rather not be marked as the first to die by someone forever if he can help it. He’s got a perfectly good name he picked himself.

Zedeath pulls a piece of paper from his robes and squints at it, holding it close to his shadowed face. “Not...you are SolidarityGaming, right?” he queries, missing the large S plastered across Jimmy’s chest.

“That’s me,” Jimmy confirms automatically, then kicks himself for it. Could he have lied to death to get back in the game? Was this reaper only playing a trick on him? He’s heard the stories of trials like that, and this fellow seems the type.

Zedeath makes a mark on the paper with a pen, then tucks both back into his robe, which flutters open into a dark expanse of void. The swirling depth and stars make Jimmy’s head spin, which he does not need any more of, thank you.

He takes the opportunity to instead squeeze his eyes shut and press his palms to his head, reveling in the steadying pressure. He’s fine, he’s fine. Deep breath—okay there’s no air in his lungs, but that’s fine. He pulls his hands down his face, cards them back through his hair. Imagines pushing a breath out. The arrow didn’t transfer over with him thankfully, but he doesn’t understand how it would, since it’s not a part of him anyway. He’s still relieved. He’s still here and will respawn after the game. Maybe sooner, depending on how his reaper works.

“Can you—do you do respawns?”

“We would be in a lot of trouble if I couldn’t! Ready to leave?”

There’s a tattered hole still in the knee of his pants from a slip earlier in the game. Jimmy picks at the loose threads. “Not much point sticking around, really.”

“Okay, rude.” Was he really? He does still have three allies in the game…

“I already lost, though,” the dead bemoans. “I can’t do anything.”

“You won at not winning, though!” Death says brightly, looking quite pleased with such a notion. Jimmy is not.

“I wanted to actually win! Or at least not be last.” Gosh, he’s last. “I wish I didn’t die.”

“What’s wrong with death?” the reaper asks, leaning on his brightly coloured staff to look Jimmy in the eye.

“That’s easy for you to say!” Jimmy can’t believe he has to explain this. “You don’t have to worry about dying!”

“Not until you all start doing it,” Zedeath quips back.

This guy has absolutely bonkers priorities. Maybe being a reaper does that to someone. The constant flow of death could warp their mind or something…Jimmy knew it would make him crazy if he was surrounded by so much of it.

Zedeath hands over the noisemaker and offers a fast respawn, which Jimmy declines. He’ll stay and watch the games for a while more, he’s decided. Maybe he really isn’t ready to go quite yet. The reaper ominously tells him that he’ll know when he is ready, before stalking off to another portion of the map. Jimmy watches him go until he disappears, privately glad to be rid of the spirit for now.

Finally alone, Jimmy sighs and looks down at his hands. Well, first out. But it’s still the first game.

He unenthusiastically toots the noisemaker. It doesn’t make him feel better. Okay, well, it does a little bit, but he’s not about to tell his reaper that. Maybe he can use it to go cheer on Scott and Scar instead. They’re bound to go farther.

No matter, Jimmy tells himself. He’ll do better next time. There’s no way he’s dying first twice in a row.

Fine, yes, dying was mostly my fault that first time. It wasn’t my best, I’ll admit, and Skizz got a lucky shot! But Last Life was completely unfair! It was an accident! I didn’t realize the drop was that far!

I didn’t even get three lives either! Mumbo had more than me and he still died right after, so really, I should have been at least second.

Another death caused by Grian, too. He was supposed to be my ally! If you’re gonna call me a canary, then you should at least call him…coal…dust or something. What kills canaries?

-

Heart pounding in his chest, Jimmy dashes for his life, rapid footfalls speeding alongside the hammering against his ribs. He pushes himself forward, yelling back at Grian to cut it out. His couple of hits were just good fun, come on! Don’t—stop! Stones skid under his boots and he prepares to leap from his pursuer.

His feet leave the roof.

That’s…not the drop he expected it to be.

He flails.

He hits the ground.

Nestled within the stinging pain that shoots through his body is the tugging he can now identify as being from a bubblegum-coloured shepherd’s crook. The pull of his soul from his body is a vaguely familiar sensation now, but Jimmy still screams, quickly pitching into a wail. Zedeath detaches his crook and watches Jimmy’s small tantrum.

“It was an accident!” the ghost begs. “I didn’t think it was that high! I didn’t mean to!”

Death makes no move to act on the plea, no sympathy for the plight of the loser. “Well, the intentional deaths are always better.”

Jimmy’s desperation crumbles into disappointment. He drags his hands down his face and wills his spirit back up to the roof his body fell from. He’d really rather not be on the ground with his corpse right now. Besides, a perch sounds kind of nice at the moment. He plops down to sit on the edge, resting his translucent chin on his translucent knees. “I’m out first again…What is wrong with me…”

A chill settles next to him, and Jimmy doesn’t have to look up to guess that the reaper has chosen a seat next to him. “I’d guess lots! For one, your skin was looking a bit grey even before you died.”

Jimmy huffs. The more time he spends with this guy, the more exhausted he feels. Death is the worst. Taking him twice was enough but he just has to rub salt—wait. He only ever had two lives. Surely Death would have been in charge of that? “Hey, why’d you only give—”

“Another thing is you’re growing little baby feathers,” Zedeath continues obliviously. “I don’t think that’s right.” He doesn’t even give Jimmy an opportunity to question what he’s talking about before there’s a quick and sharp sting on his back.

“Ow! What—”

But when he looks, there’s a small and shimmering golden feather between Death’s grey fingers. His throat catches, and he tries in vain to peer over his shoulder to where it came from. It’s not enough for Death to cut his life short, he has to mess with him too?

“I wonder if the colour is meant to match your hair or a kind of bird,” Zedeath muses to himself, running a finger along the barbs. “Can I get a sample of your blood? No reason.”

“No!” Jimmy shouts, turning so that his back faces away from the bloodthirsty and curious reaper. “I don’t even want to be a bird! I just wanted to play a game with my friends! What’s happening to me?”

“Some of your friends are birds,” Zedeath points out, squinting at the feather. It would be easier if he pulled his hood down, but he does not. “Oh, hang on, hold this.” He drops the feather back onto Jimmy’s head and vaults himself off the building with his staff. A moment later, Mumbo’s familiar voice pipes up.

“Oh goodness, that wasn’t much good, was it?” The posh lilt makes Jimmy’s heart lift just a little. Any company besides the spectre of death is more than welcome. He’s not alone anymore, and with his ally, no less!

Then the realization that he was so close to not being first settles in. Something bitter coats his mouth and he frowns, eyebrows pinched. Mumbo is his friend, but someone else could stand to be out first this time. He’s had his turn! If he had as many lives as Mumbo, he definitely would’ve survived past him.

The reaper and his latest ghost continue to chat out of sight, but Jimmy opts to continue sitting alone above them. The dark voice of Death reaches Jimmy’s perch, appraising how fantastic Mumbo is at dying, to which the dead gives a flustered chuckle.

Jimmy sighs and twirls the feather in his fingers. Still not better than he is, apparently.

I don’t know what happened! I swear I didn’t look at that enderman! I got under a tree!

Tango…I’m so sorry.

-

Jimmy gasps as the crook tears him from his body once more, a sensation that’s becoming familiar at an alarming rate. The searing pain in his arms and chest vanishes in an instant alongside the rapid pounding of his heart, leaving only phantom sensation and Jimmy coughing with surprise. He squeezes his eyes shut, the vibrant angry purple of his final moments still seared into his retinas.

He knows by now not to look down at his body. Experiencing it was enough, thank you.

Instead, he grasps at his heart and glances around. Zedeath can wait this time; there’s someone really important he needs to find first. To his surprise, his fingers actually catch on something. After all that time imagining it, the tether linking him to his soulmate is visible and tangible and gleaming a brilliant ruby red. Jimmy’s never been more relieved to see a piece of string.

He needs to get to the other side of it.

The thread loops around to stretch off behind him, so that’s where he’s headed. Jimmy spins on his heel to follow it, footfalls silent in the space after life, desperate to find Tango while he can. His rancher is out there somewhere alone and confused and dead and Jimmy needs to tell him he’s sorry!

It doesn’t take long for something to have him stumbling on his feet.

Ah. So that’s where Zedeath was.

The reaper isn’t looking at him, instead rummaging through those reality bending robes. His long dark sleeve conceals what he unearths, but only until it catches the light of the moon.

Oh.

Oh.

Jimmy takes off running with renewed purpose. “Wait!” he shrieks, struggling to stay vertical with his frantic speed. “Stop!”

Death has already taken the thread into his hand, the blade of scissors held against it. Zedeath turns with a “huh?”, but he was already in motion. It was already too late. With a simple shifting of fingers, the soulstring is snipped as easily as if it was simple sewing thread. As if it didn’t mean anything. As if it wasn’t the closest, most understanding ally Jimmy’d ever had. As if it wasn’t an ounce of faith that Jimmy would not die.

The string is clipped, and it is unremarkable in how easy it was.

The broken ends of the thread turn a dead grey, which quickly spreads outward in either direction. As it goes, the string itself begins to crumble with it.

As it goes, something shrivels in Jimmy’s chest with it.

He needs to apologize to his rancher…but the reaper is right there. And Jimmy just watched him cut his soul apart from Tango’s. And he’s so angry.

His run towards Tango turns into a lunge against Zedeath. He shouts and scowls, spit flying and wings puffing up. “You! You took me from him!”

Zedeath screeches and collides with the ground. “You were the one that died!” he defends, keeping his staff between the two of them. “I know the rules to this game! You die and you’re out and I go snippy-snippy!” Jimmy brings a fist down toward the reaper’s puffed-up cheeks, but he slips away in a puff of dark smoke.

Jimmy’s head swims with adrenaline, irritation, agony, and…memories of an enderman he swears he didn’t look at. “No…it was you! I didn’t die! You got me killed! I need to talk to Tango!”

Zedeath looks at him with those eyes—those damn purple eyes! He has the nerve to cross his arms and huff. The audacity of Death to be the one annoyed! “How many times do I have to tell you! Killing is not in my job description! I just move your soul so you’re not stuck like that forever!” He swings an arm out toward where Jimmy knows his corpse is prone and mangled. “Is that what you want? Hm!?”

Jimmy clenches his fist. He knows they’re wasting time. Tango is all alone! He’s never been the first to die before! Still…Jimmy can’t seem to put a lid on his fury. If he was a little calmer, he might’ve seen the irony.

 “I wasn’t ready to die!” His voice cracks and he mentally smacks himself for sounding so small. “You’re the one that takes my soul away! You’re the one that takes me out of the game! And you took Tango too this time!” I was the one that died. It’s not fair to him. He shouldn’t have lost.

“Oh, Tango!” Zedeath snaps as if remembering. “He’ll be able to tell you you’re wrong!”

Jimmy seethes. He is so sick of Death.

“You already took me out! You gave me these—these wings! Isn’t that enough?” To have Death turn his own rancher against him is a new level of cruelty, and one he’s too fired up to let pass.

Before Zedeath can say anything else stupid, that beautiful rough voice calls distantly through the trees. “Ze-e-d!” To Jimmy’s utmost dismay, it’s not his name, but the reaper turns his head with a bright smile.

“Tango!” he shouts back. “Over here!” He waves his arm as punctuation as if Tango would be able to see it.

“No!” Jimmy refuses, nose scrunching. “Tango!” he shouts himself, taking off in the direction he heard his soulmate’s call. His horn still swings from its tether on his neck, so Jimmy brings it to his lips and sings out for his rancher.

His Tango sings back. Just like he’d promised.

In true Team Rancher fashion, the two find each other via full collision, torsos and limbs crashing together between the trees. Tango’s horn knocks against Jimmy’s chin, Jimmy’s digs into Tango’s gut, and they both fall over with the force of it.

“Jimmy!” Tango chirps brightly, rubbing his forehead.

“Tango,” Jimmy breathes, relieved. “Whatever this death guy says, don’t believe him!”

“Death guy?” Tango looks a bit bewildered. “Oh, Zed! Yeah, I try not to.” His eyes crinkle like it’s a wonderful joke and Jimmy feels his chest swell with warmth. With their legs still tangled up, grinning together, he can almost imagine their soulbond is still there.

Jimmy pushes forward and wraps his soulmate in a hug. “Whoa there!” Tango yelps, but returns the embrace, toasty but steady. “You okay?”

“I really liked your tower,” Jimmy whispers, voice wet. “Even if it did look like a foot.”

Tango barks out a laugh against Jimmy’s ear, but he doesn’t mind. “I’m glad you were my soulmate too, buddy.”

With a tighter squeeze, Tango starts to extract himself. He offers a hand down to pull up his companion, which Jimmy gladly takes. “Ready to go home?”

“Home?” Jimmy repeats dumbly.

“Yeah.” Tango nods over Jimmy’s shoulder. When he turns, Zedeath is waiting, appearing to try and balance his staff on his palm. Jimmy is stunted as Tango separates to sidle over to the reaper. “The game’s over. I’ll see you in the next one though, right, rancher?”

Jimmy nods, knowing he looks foolish but not quite caring. At least Tango isn’t mad. At least he gives Jimmy a sharp grin and double thumbs up as the reaper pulls him into a respawn.

Jimmy sighs heavily. Tango’s probably super busy on Hermitcraft. He did tell him all about the new season and his big plans. His rancher has massive ideas and a selective attention span. Jimmy knows this and can’t blame him for hurrying out.

“Ready?”

What else is there to say?

It’s over. Go home.

The reaper loops the hook of his staff around Jimmy’s torso. The canary pointedly does not look at him, staring off to a static enderman through the trees. Zedeath tugs his staff, and Jimmy is pulled through space in an instant, landing back on a permanently dusty bed with an absence in his heart.

…

-

The canary does not even startle as the crook pulls his soul out of the most recent wretched game. He does not gaze down where he knows his corporeal body lay, head smashed and bones broken. He does not look to find his allies. He only curls in on himself and cries.

Shimmering silver tears slip down past his shades and paint his cheeks with grief. He hiccups and sobs, throwing his glasses away with a strangled shout.

First out again. What is wrong with him? He had been doing so well at the start!

“I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself.”

He’s the worst. He was dragging his team down. He should’ve worked harder.

But does it even matter what he does? It’s always going to be him. It’s always going to be him.

After a game where every second counts, Jimmy doesn’t know how long he cries. He likely would have wept longer, but there’s a tapping on his head that makes him look up.

Who else would it be?

Zedeath stands at a distance, patting his head with his shepherd’s crook. “There, there,” he says, looking uncomfortable. “There, there.”

Jimmy is…tired of seeing Zedeath’s face. It only affirms what he already knows: that he’s died, that’s he’s lost. Seeing the cloaked reaper is his own personal symbol of failure.

He reaches up to shove the crook away. “Why’d you have to push me?”

To his credit, Zedeath does pull his staff back. “It was more of a…consolation pat.”

“On the bridge,” Jimmy bites out without much hostility. He just doesn’t have the fight in him right now.

The reaper looks at him strangely, dead eyes squinting. “My thing is really more of a pull. And at the splat site.”

“You don’t have to act stupid.” Usually he’d roll his eyes, but right now Jimmy is content to only look at his scuffed sneakers.

“Oh, this is no act! Rest assured, I’m stupid for real.”

“I didn’t fall off the bridge.” Saying it out loud should be some remarkable realization, but Jimmy is so tired. “I got pushed.” He knows this to be true in the deepest core of his being, but he does not voice as such.

“Hmm….” Zedeath stares back up at Bread Bridge, glancing around for something Jimmy doesn’t think he’d be able to see if he tried. “Grian does seem like the type. He’s pushed me around before; extremely rude fellow.”

Jimmy lets his forehead fall back onto his knees. His eyes feel strained and puffy. “I don’t like you,” he murmurs, more for himself than Zedeath.

“Neither does Grian,” the reaper returns easily. “And probably a bunch of other people, but I don’t keep track. Who has the time?”

“You don’t listen. I’m sick of you killing me first over and over.”

“Well now who’s not listening? I don’t control when you guys die! If I did, then I would kill Tango first. I like Tango.”

This startles Jimmy into a laugh. “Hey! That’s my rancher! You already took him first once!”

Death winks at him and Jimmy feels the truth of his own words wash over him. Tango was also a first death, wasn’t he? He’d only ever thought about it as dragging him down but…maybe he can be allowed a little selfishness to not feel so lonely.

The reaper continues on regardless, waving off concerns. “I’ve done worse to him, anyway. And he’s done worse to me.”

Jimmy wipes his nose on his wrist with a gross snuffle. “Like…dying all the time?” He doesn’t know what else Death could possibly do to torture someone. He feels he’s already gotten most of it.

“He gets himself killed enough as is. What I do is more fun! Like refilling caves he digs out and dragging his unconscious body around.” Death sounds as chipper as Jimmy’s ever heard him, and he has to gape.

“I didn’t know you could do things in the real world like that.” He’d had his suspicions, but these would have to be largely involved, which is a scary thought. His rancher never mentioned being puppeted by a reaper…could it happen to him too? Jimmy’s already had enough of playing toy. He’s certain this would be the last straw to completely break him.

“I can’t! This is on Hermitcraft. Off the clock.”

“YOU’RE ON HERMITCRAFT?” Jimmy can’t help but shout. The spectre that’s haunted him for so long spends his normal time playing pranks on Hermitcraft? Jimmy’s even visited! He feels like he would have recognized the fellow if he ran into him at all!

“Did Tango not talk about me? I’m hurt!” It may be only a trick of the light, but Jimmy thinks he can see a stray bit of blond peek out from the dark hood.

Frankly, he didn’t even think Zedeath was anyone under the shadow of his void cloak. How could he, with such a powerful and terrifying being? With someone seemingly made of shadows and stinking of death, who only serves to pry him from the games and his friends? Who cursed him into a sacrifice of a songbird?

This changes everything.

After a short conversation, he stands and allows Zedeath’s crook to snag around his middle. It’s biting cold even through his leather jacket. Zedeath’s always cold.

“I’m gonna do better next time,” Jimmy promises him, tear tracks still glinting on the apples of his cheeks.

“I won’t count on it!” The reaper—Zed—beams and pulls his staff.

Jimmy had it all wrong this whole time. Death isn’t an all-powerful force working against him. Death is a Hermit in a dramatic cloak he dons for the job. Death is his rancher’s friend. Death has a player name.

Death is only human.

It can falter.

It can make mistakes.

It can be swayed.

Jimmy steels himself and rises from his bed. He will not be the one to die first again.

He’ll make sure of it.

[pocket-vvardvark]

Sujamma Sundas

YAYYY, ty for the tags: @skyrim-forever @sulphuricgrin @skyrim-crossing

I'd like to tag: @fangsandsoftgrass @scholarlyhermit @hircines-hunter @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @bostoniangirl21 :) no pressure, I love you guys ♥️

[Post a favorite scene, favorite sentence, favorite dialogue, favorite anything from any fic you've written! If you haven't written any fic, feel free to share your ideas. If you don't have any, recommend a friend's fic!]

Under the cut bc um, it's a bit long 😬 this is from my fic Sweet Decay <3

Truly, this was beginning to be such a strange night and relationship. They weren't in love with each other, this weird limbo they were in was most certainly not love, that much he was sure of. 

“Angelica.” He starts, and loses his nerve so easily he could cringe at his own foolishness, “Come along quietly, we wouldn't wish to rouse your family.” Pouting, she follows him until they are safely out of reach and the thicket’s grown so high it has begun to level her waist. Peering around, her broodiness is forgotten once the air changes; a metallic tang on the underside of her tongue and the air is so thick, it's nearly suffocating. Her tongue shifts in her mouth, toying with her gold-plated piercing as if it could release the sudden taste of blood. It does not. 

“Verandis.” Her voice hisses with warning, frantically whipping around to face the growing sense of danger which seemed to loom ever closer. She doesn't hear his reply, only the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears as a good few figures assault them. They charge for Angelica first, claws tearing through flesh so easily she screams at the blinding, hot pain. It sears her flesh, rendering her useless as she tumbles to the ground with a wounded side. Verandis struggles with his own aggressor, barely able to struggle out of their grasp as its face becomes visible against the dissipating fog. A vampire–they hiss, snarling and gnashing at nothing while Verandis keeps them away with a conjured stave. The second is nowhere to be found, but both are much too gone in their minds to be anything but feral, so she doubts they’d have gotten very far. Bleeding out in the grass while she watches the man she’s sweet on succumb to his fate is not what she planned for this evening. She hadn't even gotten an apology out of him. Clawing against the air, they snarl and bite with the promise of flesh. Picking herself up from the forest floor, Angelica readies her magic against unsteady, twitching fingers. With only one hand to work with, it would be impossible to use her conjured war-hammer, so she'd have to settle for a few undead companions. The earth rumbles beneath her feet as bones chatter and milky phalanges claw past their graves. Under her command, the spirits rush forward, tugging on vampiric flesh with several pops and creaks until a gruesome sight is left trembling beneath Verandis. Sending her a grateful nod, he moves quickly to mend her wound, his hands meeting her ribs with tenderness. It's not until Verandis is pinned before her that she has any recognition of what is happening. At break-neck speeds, the missing feral comes launching for an attack, but her raised skeleton manages to subdue them with a painful crack of its neck. It hangs limply, neck separating from its body unnaturally while its face is set in terror not unlike if it were still sane. With a chance at freeing Verandis from whatever magic surrounds his hands and waist, she squirms forward despite the dull ache lingering in her ribs. Scratches from harrow-fiends could prove fatal, provided they hit the right spot. That wasn't her worry at the moment, though, she could only panic as thundering footsteps rocked forth, rustling foliage as another entity crept into view. Magic bound Verandis so tightly, it was nearly impenetrable as Angelica struggled to tug the links away. Futile, only a spell like this could be broken with the right counter-spell, and she knew of none. Racking her brain of any useful thought, she desperately clawed at his magical binds, panicking as her breath becomes shallow. 

“Run! You need to get out of here, now! ” He was right to warn her as the overbearing presence grew behind her, but she stubbornly refused. Tears prick at her eyes, mocking her for feeling the way she did earlier. Her tantrum seems so childish, now, as she’s reduced to a sniveling mess above him. 

“ No !” She roars, pulling her lips in a snarl, “I refuse to leave you!”

His eyes are wide, and she realizes in spite of the danger, she's never seen him so frightened before.

A voice drawls from behind, “It seems you've met my pets, unfortunate they didn't make it. But, I suppose I'm pleased enough my prey is alive. Your screams will sound so pretty after I've sucked you dry, girl .” 

Reckless, Angelica is quick to collect her burning limbs, immediately directing her undead to the new threat. She's agitated–so tightly woven into the threads of adrenaline that it is the only way she’s remained upright for so long. The man smiles sardonically, appearing amused at her attempts to fight back. A few flicks of his wrist, and half her animated skulls and bones are scattered and razed to ash. It angers her, infuriates her into a blinding rage when the spirits she cares for are so easily scattered into the wind, unmade by a cruel hand that sets their souls into a state of unrest. The hand which clutched her side falls, no longer able to feel pain as another takes over. The pain of loss fuels her vengeance, twisting into the shadow of a war-hammer, inky-black and misty. She slices through the air, her swings a moment too slow to make contact with her foe. He smiles, and she can see his canines extend, ready to pierce her flesh and coat it in her own, sticky ichor. In her haste, she's rash, growing a bit quicker as the fight continues and she adapts to this deadly dance. Magic is brought into the mix, uttering a mantra of necromantic spells while she forces the vampire onto the defensive. Against her assault of fiery skulls, snapping and creaking their jaws to taste flesh, a slice finally makes contact. It crunches sickeningly as the blade strikes his shoulder, just as her quarry exchanges his corporeal form for red mist. Only her panting and the sound of creaking bones can be heard in the clearing, controlling her breaths she listens closer. Nothing–only the sound of the bog nearby, full of chirping crickets, buzzing dragonflies, and the gurgling of water. Her adrenaline begins to fade, and it is her undoing. Pinned to the ground, two fangs nearly sink into her jugular if not for her quick thinking. Unfortunately, with her blade raised against her neck in defense, it allows for it to be used against her. Her blade, although weaved of magic, is swiped from her in a haze, and she is unable to properly dispel it before she's screaming in terror. White, hot pain blurs her vision, heaving through bile and half-strangled whimpers when she realizes her dominant hand is missing. It lies beside her, sinew and flesh clinging to its mangled end as not even bone is left. Biting down on her lip, Angelica makes a last ditch effort, weaving her missing bone into a dagger which she brutally stabs into the belly of her attacker. Imbuing it with fire, she wins the advantage with the element of surprise, sending the vampire stumbling backwards as she continues to assault him. Screaming in rage, she redoubles her efforts, tears free-flowing as she decapitates the monster. Only when his head rolls free with a vacant expression, does she collapse in a heap of exhaustion. If not dealt with soon, she would expire as well. Thankfully, his magic bindings disappear, setting the Count free as he reaches for his crumpled companion. Loopy from adrenaline, and perhaps a bit delusional, she smiles crookedly. “I saved your ass, Count, that had better earn me an apology.” Her eyes roll back before she can catch his beautifully sad expression, though. Even as Verandis calls out to her, she fades against him, unable to hear a word as nothing is left unclaimed by the void of unconsciousness.

[zablife]

Here’s my lil offering for the ‘ambiguous gif’ request! Although I’m not sure how ambiguous it is.

It’s not a Peaky gif so I wasn’t sure if this was acceptable, but if it is….. I was thinking this with either Tommy, Luca, or Alfie ☺️👉👈

(thank you for all the ones you’ve been putting out btw! they’ve been amazing 💕)

Hi darling, this request must be old, but just showed in my inbox?? Anyway, I’m so pleased to hear you enjoyed the sleepover celebration! There are 2 more requests coming bc I started them then promptly became sidetracked by my new Bikeriders obsession 🙈 I won’t leave this delicious GIF unanswered tho!

I def think it’s Luca 🤭 His ego demanding immediate satisfaction if you did something as simple as give him the silent treatment over dinner. I imagine this bratty display of disobedience would warrant swift punishment.

The moment you’re alone in your flat, his fiery temper is unleashed. His strong hands fist into the buttery silk of your dress, gritting his teeth as he suppresses the urge to tear it off you. It’s the one kindness he shows, knowing it’s your favorite.

That won’t stop him from harshly rucking it up to your waist, revealing the tender flesh underneath to leave a stinging slap. Your yelp of pain entices him, delivering countless more before soothing you with his palm, only a moment of reprieve before he’s bending you over the arm of the couch.

His full weight presses against your back as he thrusts into you without warning, leaving you gasping for air. His energy will be nothing short of animalistic until he hears the tell tale pants of your impending release, then he’ll slow to a tortuous pace to keep you from bliss. It’s devious and infuriating, but so addictive at the same time.

Hot breath whispering in your ear, he’ll ask if you’re ready to apologize and in your needy state, you can’t help but play his games. You’d say anything he wanted, even beg for forgiveness.

At times like these, one thing is certain—a petty fight might have started all this, something neither of you will remember later, but the night of pain and pleasure that follows will be seared into your brain forever.