#that's staying in the trunk where it belongs

[youareinacomawakeup]

Sora and Riku are SO...

Soriku is an emotion all its own for me. I can't describe it. Like shipping something is a feeling, yeah? Like it's dopamine, it's serotonin, it's "I like this. Looking at them together makes me feel the Good Feeling."

But I can't describe the way Sora and Riku are...unique to that for me. It's this unique concoction of brain chemicals I can't put a name to. Nothing else feels like them. When they're in my brain, when they curl up and make a home there, it's just...completely indescribable. It just... I don't know, guys, I don't KNOW.

It's like-- Okay, as a writer, inspiration is also a unique emotion. It's not just "oh i had an idea" it's just this sudden flooding of "Oh, I can do anything." A passion, but different.

Soriku is also a unique emotion, something I struggle to articulate. It's like trying to describe the flavor of something in a way that other people can taste it in their mouths just by hearing it.

It's secondhand love, it's home, it's adoration, it's safety, and I know how fucking insane this is coming across, like true obsession, but even saying "I'm addicted, it's a drug," seems too goddamn shallow for what this feeling is. It's not enough.

It's just...them.

[charliemwrites]

Guilty By Association Commission from the very sweet and patient @soleilak

You (Callsign: Giggles, Gigs for short) are a medic on temporary assignment with the 141. The only problem? You're a former member of Graves' Shadow Company.

Content: Injury, angst, power imbalance, fingering and oral (reader receiving)

“Get your arse in gear, Gigs!”

Already exhausted and aching, the rough bark of your temporary captain urges your heavy feet faster. Gunfire sprays all around – you’re so addled you can’t tell if it’s enemy or friendly. All you know are your orders, a cry of survival in the uneven pounding of your heart. A bullet plows into the ground dangerously close to your foot.

Just a few meters ahead, Gaz curses and tumbles to the ground, hat lost. It’s not even a decision to alter your course. You can’t tell instantly what the damage is; if he’s been hit or just tripped. So you tuck and dive, grabbing an arm and leg as your back rolls across his chest. The momentum gets the two of you up and moving again, adrenaline taking the edge off his weight.

“Get us to the trees and I can run again!” he shouts in your ear.

You settle your blurry vision on the forest line ahead. Blessed cover – and your extraction point just a mile further. Goal set, you push through the pain of bruised ribs, a wrenched arm, and the ricochet of a bullet across your thigh. You wheeze your way well past the tree line, weaving between trunks until Kyle’s palm smacks at your side.

“We’re good, we’re good,” he says.

You grunt as you set him down, give him the quickest onceover in the history of medics. His calf is bleeding, just above the tops of his boots. It’s an ugly wound; it’ll need packing – but he can survive until exfil.

“Where the fuck are you two?!” Price growls through your headset.

Kyle pats your shoulder and takes off again, only the slightest limp indicating his injury. You grit your teeth and try to follow his example.

No one helps you into the chopper when you’re the last on the ladder. You’re not surprised, but it still stings. Salt on the day’s wounds.

Once the heli is up in the air, you scoot over to help Kyle with the wound on his calf. It’s almost hypnotic, the press-wind-press-wind of packing the deep gouge. Almost like unspooling your own tension through the care of a teammate. Every inch of bandage seems to amplify your own pains, though, as the mission high ebbs.

You hurt.

When Kyle’s done, you sit back a bit to assess him for any other wounds. The twitch of his mouth and slight bob of his head tells you he’s sorted, though – and it’s more thanks than you usually get.

“Where the hell were you?” Price demands.

“I got held up, sir,” you admit. Had been ambushed by two men you thought were on another floor. Bad luck, that. Or just poor preparation on your part. Your side twinges as you ease yourself into a seat. “Won’t happen again.”

Price grunts, mollified. “See that it doesn’t.”

You get maybe thirty seconds of peace before Soap’s voice cuts through the tentative peace.

“Gonnae take care o’ that or keep bleedin’ all over Nik’s seat?” he teases. Or at least it would be, if not for the sharp glint in his eyes.

What’s that saying about sins of the father? Well, Phillip Graves was definitely not your father, nor was General Shepherd – though he was old enough to be. In their absence, it seems you’re paying for their crimes regardless.

“Right,” you sigh, tearing off the bottom of your shirt, “sorry, Nik.”

“Just stay alive to clean it up, eh?” he replies jovially.

It’s not much of a joke, but you laugh anyway. You don’t live up to your callsign much nowadays, so you’ll take the levity when you can.

You tie off the makeshift bandage with a grunt and lean your head back, too uncomfortable to doze off.

At least the infirmary is a friendly sight. The staff are always grateful for an extra set of hands – even if they once belonged to a Shadow. And you have a lot of time to help since you’re not encouraged (never mind invited) to any non-professional activities with the 141. Working with the nurses during all that extra time has gained you some friends at least.

Dana is on call when you limp in. She fusses about you looking like the walking dead – then goes on to tell regale you with details from her current first-time watch of the show. The stream of words soothes you in the quiet little treatment room.

“Think we need an x-ray, dove?” she asks, prodding at your already discolored ribs.

“Wouldn’t help,” you sigh, “we can just wrap ‘em and call it.”

“Alright, dear, but you know what to do if it gets worse.”

“’Course,” you answer, summoning a grin, “can’t be keelin’ over before your nephew leaves that tart.”

“Oh, don’t even get me started – you know what she said at Sunday dinner?”

You giggle through her undoubtedly embellished story until she gets to your thigh – and the terrible bandaging.

“A piece of your shirt,” she scolds.

“My bag was too far, and my ribs hurt,” you complain.

“And what are all those big burly men for then, eh?” she huffs.

You shake your head. “I can’t ask them to help.”

Dana scowls past your hip. “Just because you’re the medic—”

“Pardon.”

You jolt in surprise at Captain Price in the doorway. Christ, he takes up the breadth of it too, shoulders brushing the jamb on either side. Even mission-dirty and stern-looking, he’s a hell of a welcome sight – though an unexpected one.

You try to sit up at some semblance of attention, but he waves you off. Can’t say you’re not grateful, unable to help wincing as you lie back.

You don’t notice him pause as Dana washes the wound, too busy sucking air through your nose.

“What’s… the damage?” he asks carefully.

You open your mouth to answer, but Dana beats you to it.

“Contused ribs, sprained shoulder, and a bullet wound to the thigh,” she rattles off. You’re always impressed by the undercurrent of disapproval and accusation she manages to weave into each word. “Not to mention dehydration and sleep deprivation. You’ve been staying up again, haven’t you?”

You clear your throat and turn your eyes skywards. “Oh, look at the ceiling. What a lovely ceiling.”

She clicks her tongue and begins packing the wound as you had for Gaz.

“Bullet wound?” Price asks sharply. Your eyes flick guiltily to him. “Why the hell am I hearing about this now?”

“It’s just a graze, sir,” you reply. “Sergeant Garrick’s was worse.”

His jaw does that thing you secretly (ashamedly) drool over, where it tightens and jumps. You know it’s not good but hey, silver linings right?

He doesn’t ream you out though. Just crosses his burly arms and lets out a long, heavy breath. You’re… not really sure what that means.

“Debrief at 0700 tomorrow, Gigs,” he says, voice unusually subdued.

“Yessir,” you reply dutifully.

As always, a strange mix of relief and disappointment twists in your chest as he walks away. Talking to him is a bit like being under a microscope – if that microscope was ready to brand you a low-down, no-good, dirty, rotten traitor at the first hint of suspicious activity.

You get it, you do. Graves and Shadow Company tried to kill Soap and Ghost, Los Vaqueros, and committed unspeakable atrocities. As much history as you had with him, he deserved what came to him, and Shepherd will deserve the same when he’s found.

Not that your hands were clean before Las Almas, but you drew the line when the orders came. Couldn’t bear to detain or shoot the friends you’d made in Los Vaqueros, or join the hunting party for Soap and Ghost. You’d been labelled a turncoat by your own teammates, thrown into a cell to be “court-martialed.”

Kate Laswell coming to your rescue was a second chance, a small-time miracle that you’ve been determined to earn ever since. In your more pathetic moments, usually in the small, dark, lonely hours of sleepless nights, you wonder how much it will take. How long you’ll be guilty by association.

At least this isn’t shaping up to be one of those nights. You’re half asleep by the time Dana sends you off, arm chilly from the IV fluids she bullied you into. For once, you might get a few decent hours.

Your second surprise of the night comes just outside your barracks door. Soap is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, head back and eyes closed. Awake, though. His index finger is tapping a steady but rapid pace on his bicep.

“Soap?” you say, alerting him. “Did you… need me for something? You’re not injured, are you?”

He straightens up, drops his arms to his side. You pause a noticeable distance away, uncertainty leashing you to the safety of space. Not that you feel threatened. His posture is the loosest it’s been around you since… well, since before Las Almas went to hell.

“’Course no’, I woulda – tha’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh…” You process the strange wording. “Why are you here, then?”

He shifts his weight, a little line appearing between his brows as he seems to gather himself.

“I’m here to apologize.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Look, what I said during exfil – it was bang outta order. You’ve been nothin’ but good to us ‘n I’m still holdin’ on to old shite.”

You shift, adjust the stupid flimsy sling for your sore shoulder. “It’s… not that old,” you reason, “and I don’t blame you, either. Not after everything.”

“Still, ya did the right thing back then – and ya’ve proven yourself half a dozen times over, besides. I’ve got no reason to treat you like an enemy.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat. It feels like you’ve swallowed a grenade; any moment the pin is going to come out and an explosion of gory emotion will splatter the walls.

“Thanks, Soap.”

He grunts something about “not thanking him” and ducks his head, shuffling past you.

“Seriously,” you say, voice strained from keeping it even. “I really appreciate it.”

He pauses, gives you a genuinely kind look. “Rest up, lass.”

It’s the best you’ve slept in a long while – after you cry into your pillow, that is.

At 0700 the next day, you’re in Price’s office, sore but in high spirits. Gaz sat next to you and Soap said good morning at breakfast. Even Ghost seemed less frosty than usual, grunting at you in acknowledgement when you’d sat down.

Of course, the good luck couldn’t last.

The debrief itself is fine. You speak when it’s your turn, listen when it isn’t. About as normal as it gets for a special ops squad.

It’s as the rest of the task force is filing out the door that the other shoe drops.

“Gigs, a word,” Price calls.

You freeze mid-step, shoot Gaz a panicky glance. He glances over your shoulder, snorts, and pats your arm in solidarity. Not as helpful as he thinks.

With a deep breath, you pivot back around. The door closes behind you with a damning click. You can’t even hide your hands behind your back to fidget at parade rest – your arm needs to stay in the sling for the rest of the day.

“We need to discuss yesterday,” Price says, palms flat on his desk.

You tilt your head. Wasn’t that what the debrief was for?

“Sir?” you ask. “If I – did I do something wrong?”

He deflates a bit, big shoulders dropping before he pushes himself up and rounds the desk.

“No, you’re not in trouble,” he explains, “but I have concerns.”

When he gestures for you to take one of the visitor seats, you do. You’re a bit surprised when he takes the other – though you can’t help an appreciative glance while his attention is elsewhere. He practically dwarfs the stupid little chair, and the way he spreads his thighs trying to get comfortable…

“Concerns, sir?” you parrot, trying to corral your scrambled braincells.

“What you said in the infirmary,” he begins, expression solemn, “is that really how you feel?”

“What I said…?” You try to recall anything of note from last night, but most of what came out of your mouth is a blur at best. “What did I say?”

He leans forward, lacing his scarred fingers together. You try not to stare, though the way he rubs at the knuckle of one thumb with the other is distracting. It’s an unusual gesture for the disciplined, determined man you’ve been honored to call captain for months now.

“That you can’t ask us to help you.”

A block of ice drops into your stomach.

“That’s not – I know you guys would help me if I needed it,” you hurry to say.

He gives you a long look. “Then why don’t you ever ask? You were shot and didn’t say a bloody thing.”

You shift, unable to meet his eyes. Can’t find the words to answer. It’s not that you didn’t think you could ask. It just didn’t feel right with the bad blood between you, Soap, and Ghost. Besides, you’re the medic, you’re supposed to be the one fixing everyone else – not the other way around. What use are you otherwise?

You try to explain this to Price, but you sense (from the grim set to his handsome features) that it’s not helping.

“I’ve been a shite captain to you, haven’t I?” he sighs.

You jump. “No, sir! You’re a great captain. I trust you with my life.”

He chuckles, but it’s devoid of humor. Sounds almost self-deprecating.

“I’ve not done a bloody thing to earn it.”

You shake your head. “Sir, you’ve kept me alive for months now. That’s plenty.”

Beyond that, he’s always been fair with you. Doesn’t give you shit assignments or the most dangerous roles in missions. Always makes sure you’re alive and accounted for. Calls you out for mistakes and faults, sure, but it’s for the sake of you and everyone else. He’s been just as ready to pat your shoulder for a clever maneuver or praise a good shot.

“You know damn well it’s not,” he scolds.

You huff, almost amused. “Sir, with all due respect, get off the cross we need the wood.”

His eyebrows jump up nearly to his hairline. Normally, you wouldn’t dream of being so cavalier with Price of all people. Soap’s truce last night gives you the confidence to continue.

“I know you didn’t trust me as a former Shadow at first,” you say, “but you looked out for me anyway. After the first few missions… it seemed like things evened out.”

He sighs and sits back, running a hand down his face.

“Laswell vouched for you – it’s the only reason I didn’t send you right back on that plane,” he admits. A small but genuine smile curls his mouth. “And then you put your life on the line for my boys time and time again.”

You mirror him, the tension in your shoulders easing away with each word.

“I knew things weren’t great with the others, but I thought it was best if I kept out of it. Let you lot sort it out so long as you all cooperated when it mattered,” he continues. “I didn’t realize how bad it got, and that’s on me. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and lightly tap your boot against his. “It wasn’t the wrong call, sir. I think things are going to get better from here on out.”

He hums, eyes searching your gentle smile for any hint of insincerity. But you believe it, and it must show, because his eyes crinkle as he smiles back.

“Speaking of better,” he says, clearing his throat. “Mind if I take a look at those ribs? Dana had some choice words for me this morning.”

You giggle and tug your shirt from your waistband, hiking the hem up high to show the reddish-purple mottling all over your left side. Price makes a noise of sympathy, easing out of his chair to the carpeted floor. On his knees, he inches closer, leaning in to inspect the damage.

“How’d this happen?” he asks, voice lowering.

His fingertips skim over the edges of the bruises, featherlight. Your voice gets strangled in your throat as tingles race across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Um, hostile kicked me. A lot.”

His eyes flick up to yours, hard as ice. “Dead?”

“Yessir.”

His gaze softens, a proud, smug quirk to his lips. “Atta girl.”

You can’t fully suppress a shiver. It’s not just the gentle, considerate touches. It’s the purring praise from a man you’ve admired and harbored a sizeable crush on.

“Cold?�� he asks.

This is your chance to wave it off. To pretend you are not so inappropriately infatuated with a man you thought only tolerated you until a minute ago. A little white lie, you could smooth your shirt back down, and be on your way.

But you don’t want to do that. Not really.

And from the way his pupils are slowly, steadily subsuming his irises, neither does he.

“No, sir,” you whisper.

His slow exhale caresses across your tender ribs.

“Then would you be comfortable if I checked on your ‘little graze’ as well?” It’s a tease, but also a genuine check of your boundaries. Another out, freely and openly given, that only solidifies your resolve to see where he’s going with this.

“Yessir,” you answer, shifting to get at your belt.

Price tsks, though, big hands spreading across each thigh and urging you down again.

“Now, now, don’t aggravate that shoulder,” he murmurs. “Let me help like a good captain.”

You swallow back an embarrassing noise as deft hands unbuckle your belt, thumb the button of your pants open, and drag the zipper down tooth by tooth. His thick, warm forearms rest on your thighs the entire time, keep them spread to accommodate his wide shoulders. He’s in no rush to continue his “checkup,” toying along the length of your waistband before easing it down.

“Lift up for me, darling, there we are,” he murmurs. You gasp softly as his palms brush your ass while sliding your pants down. Then outright squeak as he squeezes a cheek in each hand, a low noise of admiration rumbling in his throat.

“Gorgeous girl,” he chuckles. “Gorgeous arse.”

Your face feels hot as he tugs your pants down to your ankles, though the square of gauze and tape on the back of your thigh is long revealed. It takes conscious effort not to squirm under his hot gaze, praying a wet spot isn’t already visible on your panties.

“Let’s just get this one free…” He works the pantleg over your boot, leaving the other pooled around the laces. “Now then.”

You bite into your lip as he hauls your calf up into his shoulder, propping your leg up to get a clear view of your thigh.

“Not bled through,” he notes, tracing the neat edges of the medical tape. “You’ve been taking good care of it. Well done.”

You can’t help the little twitch that evokes, your whole body reacting to the deep timbre of his voice. He’s not oblivious to his effect on you, a glint in his eye as his bristly jaw brushes the inside of your knee.

“T-told you, it wasn’t too bad,” you manage weakly.

He hums and your pussy clenches helplessly around nothing. His eyes flick down and you know it’s all over.

“And what about this, hm?” he asks. You whimper as his thumb skims the lace edge of your panties. “Have you been taking care of this?”

Flustered and yet so, so turned on, you can only shake your head. He coos in mock disappointment, rubbing slow circles across your labia, closer and closer to where you’re aching and needy.

“It’s alright sergeant,” he soothes, “your captain will take care of you.”

Except he only rubs you through your panties A maddening pressure back and forth along the wet seam of your cunt, never delving deeper. You break down in hardly any time at all.

“Sir, please,” you whine, wriggling. He’s quick to brace you still again, leisurely movements never faltering.

“Please what, darling?” he teases.

“I-I need…” You whimper with embarrassment, squeezing your eyes shut. “I need you to take care of me, please, captain.”

He practically growls as he tears through the hip of your panties, tossing them aside in a sodden heap on the ground. With two fingers, he parts your labia, eyes hungrily drinking in the cream shimmering between them.

“All this and I’ve barely touched you,” he rasps, awed.

You nearly sob with desperation for something, anything. He shushes your fussy little noises with his thumb, dipping into the pool of slick at your entrance. Gets the pad soaked before drawing a line up to your swollen, sensitive clit. Your mouth falls open as he starts drawing tight, firm circles over that bundle of nerves.

He treats your body and your pleasure with all the confidence and competence you’ve come to expect of John Price. It takes shockingly little time for him to learn just how to press, how fast to rub, the patterns and circuits that get your legs shaking. And that’s before he twists his wrist and sinks a finger inside you.

“Practically sucking me in, love,” he murmurs, petting at your walls. You shudder and wordlessly beg for more, rocking your hips. “Need another already, greedy girl?”

He doesn’t even wait for your nod before stuffing you with another, curling and scissoring, exploring. You keen as he finds a sweet, sensitive spot inside you and begins toying with it, his thumb still swiping relentlessly at your clit.

He settles into a rhythm that has you moaning and keening, the heel of your boot digging into his shoulder blade. All the while he showers you in praise and encouragement, the dirtiest compliments that make you clench down tightly on his hand. Your body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending lit up with pleasure.

It’s builds and builds and builds, never quite cresting. You’re near tears when you moan his name, trying to find some leverage or angle to finally tip you over the edge.

“Do you need to cum, doll?”

“Yes, yes,” you cry, “please, sir, I wanna cum for you. Please, I’m s-so close.”

He hums, bracing your thigh with his free hand as he leans in. Your foggy brain doesn’t have enough time to process before he latches onto your clit and a third finger bullies into you. You wail. Your thigh twinges from the dull pressure of his shoulder, but the slight pain only adds a delicious edge to the pleasure.

His tongue swipes across your puffy clit once, twice, three times and you’re gone. You gush all over his hand, his beard, onto the chair. Your hips jerk as he works you over, fingers abusing your g-spot relentlessly despite how tightly you clamp down. Your body feels nuclear, nerves popping like firecrackers.

He only relents when the waves of ecstasy threaten to drown you in overstimulation. He eases his fingers from your twitchy hole, making room for him to lick you clean. It’s loud and obscene, yet there’s no room left for embarrassment anymore. You shiver and pant in the aftermath, your body unravelling into a puddle.

“Wh-what about you?” you ask as he begins straightening out your clothes. There’s an absolutely delectable-looking bulge in his fatigues that you’re dying to get your tongue on.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “If you want more –” (“I do.”) “- then you’ll have to wait until you’re healed up. Non-negotiable.”

You try to pout, but the effort is thwarted when he chucks you gently under the chin.

“C’mon, let’s have a lie down.”

He steadies you as you wobble to the couch off to the side, lying down first and letting you cuddle up between his legs. It’s a comfort more than you would have expected from a clandestine little triste, but you should know better than to doubt your captain. Head resting on his chest, you let yourself drift for a while, lulled by his fingers carding through your hair.

“Price…?” you ask after a while.

“Hm?”

“You didn’t do this just to… I dunno, make up for something, right?”

He huffs. “No, sweetheart. I’ve been arse over teakettle for a while. Staring like a complete muppet when you train.”

You hide a grin against his collarbone. “Good. I thought I’d have to start making things up for you to owe me.”

His chuckle rocks through you, and for the first time in a while, it feels a bit like home.

[hellishjoel]

chokehold

1.6k / pairing: tattoo artist daddy dom!joel miller x sub f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | notifications blog | ko-fi

chapter summary: Joel teaches you how to face fuck. 

chapter warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, unspecified age gap, established relationship, reader is described to have hair and is able-bodied (but otherwise, unspecified), swearing, dirty talk, smut, lots of pet names (sweetheart, angel, little bunny, etc.), dacryphilia (kink = getting aroused by tears), dom/sub dynamics, innocence kink, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, face fucking/oral (m!receiving), size kink

A/N:  very lightly edited, but I wanted to give a little love to joel and little bunny since the third chapter is taking me some extra time! divider is by @firefly-graphics! and always a thank you to @thetriumphantpanda for reading this over and endless encouragement <3

Joel’s eyes roll to the back of his head, slow and steady, because that’s just the pace you’re taking him. 

Facefucking is still experimental to you. He’s your first partner, and you’re nervous to impress. 

What you don’t know is that Joel would never judge your inexperience. All sexual pleasures involve trust, praise, and a little direction.

Joel stokes your hair affectionately, growing more possessive as he gently guides your mouth up and down his thick length. 

You can feel the power shift as your knees dig into the floor, eyes hesitantly meeting his while you try to take more of his shaft. You want more, you’re willing to push your limits. 

Joel seems to sense your loss of inhibitions, your twinkling eyes meeting his whiskey ones. 

“Want me to use that pretty little mouth of yours?” Joel’s words vibrate through the room. He pulls his cock from your lips, smearing his tip from one corner of your mouth to the other as you catch a breath. His warm pre-cum slips onto your tongue, and all you crave is more. 

Watching you desperately try to get him past your parted lips again is enough to force out a dark, low chuckle. 

“Wanna hear y’say it, baby.” 

Your impatient whine and eager hands on the back of his thighs make you beg, “Please, Joel,” in that wrecked voice that he loves so much. 

Joel presses his hips forward once more, watching his tip slip past your puckered lips and back into the hot heat of your mouth. “Yeah, right where I belong, huh, baby? Right where that cock belongs.” Joel’s hand comes to cradle your face, tracing the bulge of his length against your cheek with a sinister smirk. 

The further he pushes on, your tells start to show. He admires the way your eyelashes flutter, gagging and coughing around him but insistent not to let yourself off. A stray tear slips down your cheek. He collects it with his thumb and brings it past his lips, tasting what you give him. 

“Even your tears taste pretty, sweetheart,” he mutters predatorily, watching as your eyes blow wide, shyly moaning against his length. 

“When it gets to be too much, try to stay on. Swallow around me,” Joel gently nods his head. “Go on.” 

You obey, swallowing around the thick trunk of his cock, throat feeling a little looser now. You’re oh so willing to take on the discomfort just to please him. Anything for Joel, because he’d do anything for you. 

As his hips pick up a lazy pace, Joel encourages you to drop your hands from the safety blanket of his thighs. Like the good girl you are, you ease them to the base of your spine and lay one wrist over the other. He’s tied you up in that position more times than he can count, allowing Joel to take control and use you as he pleases. Such a good fucking girl. 

Tears pool along the top of your cheeks, the sight of glassy eyes igniting a fire deep in his belly. The overflow of saliva trickles out along the corners of your mouth, pooling down to his length and soaking the coarse hair on his balls. 

Joel watches as you shift anxiously on your knees, eyes pleading because somehow you want more. 

“Oh, honey,” he drapes in a degrading tone, stroking your hair away from your wet face and letting you catch a breath as his hips halt. “Need more, don’t’cha, doll?” He drawls, cooing softly as you lay your head against his thigh. Your orbs lazily look to him and nod weakly, still measly sucking on his tip. 

You bravely flick your tongue along his tip’s sensitive slit, toying at the idea of getting a rise out of Joel. 

A hiss is released past his clenched teeth, his whiskey eyes turning wild. And then you do it again. 

Joel’s hips jerk like that of a bucking bull. His hand in your hair turns to a fist, causing you to clench your eyes closed at the scorching prickle along your scalp. Joel scoffs as you fucking moan against him. 

His grin turns wicked, twisted at the thought of you enjoying some rough love. 

“Fuckin’ naughty, aren’t ya, little bunny? Yeah, bein’ a damn brat,” he chastises, watching as you frown around his tip and sucking it insistently. “Think m’gonna have t’finish deep down that pretty throat of yours, make ya choke on it,” he remarks as he repositions your head with a newfound need to punish.

Joel gathers your hair into two sets of pigtails, fisting them between his large palms. He watches you struggle to stay upright and drags you into position. “Keep that cock in your mouth, don’t let it go, sweetheart,” he gripes as you struggle to maintain him. It almost feels like a twisted game the way he nearly slips loose from your heat. 

Your mouth was full, jaw aching for a break that was nowhere in sight. Your fingers intertwine to keep them locked at the very base of your spine, whining nonsense against his cock. Soaking wet and dripping onto the hardwood, your pussy clenches around the ghost of what is currently occupying your mouth. 

You wanted to touch yourself so fucking bad. The self-discipline it took to keep your hands together makes your stomach churn. Your pearl twitches with enthusiasm, drenched in your own arousal. 

The muscles in your thighs are tight, your chest heaving and causing your bare breasts to rise and fall at a quickened rate. The overflowing spit that drips down from his balls lands on your chest. Joel can’t seem to stop staring at the gleam. 

Your nose brushes against his thick pubic hair as he buries your face against the base of his stomach, and you sputter up a cough. Lungs squeezing, throat tightening, you will yourself to swallow around him and stay right where you are. I’m yours, Joel. Please, take me, use me. 

“Fuck,’ he growls upon yanking you off his cock, smirking widely as you gasp for lost breaths. “Love that goddamn throat,” Joel mutters before reaching past you and pulling your hands to the front of his thighs, which quickly form a home for you. It’s grounding, to feel him, to feel his blood pumping through his body, and etch mine on the inside of his upper thigh mindlessly. 

“Got me so close, honey,” he starts, and you’re already eagerly nodding. Joel brings his thumb to your throat and slowly circles one spot against the column of your flesh. “Wanna feel myself right here, think you can do that, sweetheart?” 

Your eyes soften at the depth he wishes to go, but you’d do anything for him. You nod shyly and drop your jaw, flattening your tongue just for him. Always for him. 

Joel’s pace is gentle at first, working up a rhythm that has your throat molding perfectly around him. You gag each time he thrusts all the way, knowing when to swallow and when to breathe, Joel has taught you this new erotic art. 

The saliva dripping down to the base of his cock greets your chin repeatedly. You hollow your cheeks around him, and he moans naughty filth. 

“Such a pretty slut for this cock, make me feel so fuckin’ good- god damn,” Joel pauses with his length fully down your tight throat, grinding himself against your mouth as you clench your eyes close and gag. Joel places his thumb on that sacred spot against your neck, and he can feel his tip bulging against the column of your throat. You’re so fucking full of him, and it’s enough to make him spill. 

The hold he has on your hair tightens, scalp prickling as you cry out along his length. Salt bitters your tongue, weakly swallowing back load after load of his warm, thick finish. You swallow around his length and moan lowly, all muffled and messy for him as he crashes harshly through his own concocted orgasm. 

Your nails etch half-moon shapes into the back of his thighs, keeping him there, pushing for him to cross the finish line. And it was all for you. 

Tears of happiness stream down your face as you let him finish painting your throat, releasing with a dramatic pop as you do your best to swallow every last dribble. You’re careful as you give his sensitive tip a few sweet kitten licks. His hands are at the ready in your hair as he hisses harshly, ready to control you if it’s too much overstimulation for your poor old Daddy. 

Sponging kisses down his softening length, you lay your head against his thigh, and he cards his fingers through your hair. A soothing hum leaves your throat, fluttering your eyes closed as his thumb comes along to brush away the stray tears. 

It’s easier to ignore the throbbing between your legs now that Joel has found peace. Your heart pounds in your ears, and you listen only slightly as he begins to coo gentle affirmations for you.

Joel holds your hands and helps you stand, your arms already tiredly linking around his neck as you lay your head on his shoulder. 

“Such a sweet girl,” he whispers, “always make Daddy so happy, you know that?” Your head bobbles loosely. His sweet remarks make your muscles even more pliant in his arms as he easily sweeps you off your feet and moves you to lie across the bed. 

Joel takes all of you in. Sweat glistening along your temple, parted lips lacquered in spit, the extra effort it takes you to swallow, how perky your nipples are, and the slick that’s all but made a mess down your thighs. 

“Shit, she’s so pretty f’me,” Joel whispers as you grin weakly.

“My turn now?” Your wrecked voice squeaks, to which Joel slowly nods, helping you pitch your legs up on the edge of the bed.  

“Your turn now, little bunny.”

[gremlingottoosilly]

A bomb threat (And how it got you a boyfriend) special forces!Konig x fem!college!Reader

Konig saves you from a bomb threat when you get stuck at your Uni. Based on his bio - presumably, Konig was a part of the Austrian Special Forces before joining KorTac. He is also a bit of a dork and we have a bit of an obsessive episode.

Tags: Fluff, Reader is a cringefailure, Konig is overstepping his authority, hurt(not really)/comfort Warnings: Bomb threats, mentions of terrorism Word count: 2450

Someone called a bomb threat in your college. 

Well, at least, this is what the automatic email is telling you. The email that was sent to you, about especially avoiding the library on the second floor because the anonymous(not for long, since they have a knack for exposing who the hell is calling those threats each time) caller said that there is a huge chance of the bomb being placed here. 

You know, the same library that you were sitting in, right now, reading this exact email on your laptop. You thought no one was around because it wasn’t a busy day, just after the major finals, with most people staying on campus only if they failed first tests or just wanted to get extra credits for some extra curriculum. Even if you were staying here just because you wanted to work on campus’s newspaper – the library is a good place to scoop for some rumors about the dean of the uni being three raccoons in a trench coat, or the lunch staff posing as Polish mafia. 

The thing is – it seemed like you were the last fucking person to receive the email. The thing is, there are only a few weeks left before summer break, and the campus already started to turn off major announcement equipment since no sports or other events are planned. Are you going to die? Probably, there is a huge chance of you dying, as you can feel directly in your bones – god, there are probably some terrorists or uni shooters or that weird Christian suprematist who are going hysterical at the mere sight of religion other than theirs. You are going to die, you are going to die, you are going to…

— Scheisse! There is a civilian! 

You were never particularly religious, maybe only at the time of finals and work submissions – and in situations like this, where you are already mentally preparing yourself to get blown up with unfinished articles and forgotten hopes and dreams and everything and…

You were never particularly religious – so you have no idea why your pre-death auditory hallucinations suddenly included an angel’s voice with devil's timbre and some huge, tree-trunk-like hands wrapping around your waist, checking you for possible injuries or explosive device. 

These hands are really huge – and muscular, you can see how tense they are even through your black uniform, and they are roaming over your body in a way that would make you scream bloody murder and file sexual harassment if it didn’t belong to an obvious angel. Angelm in special forces uniform, an angel with a really nice boyish voice and warm hands that are sliding to your thighs, groping and checking for every possible outcome – for weapons, probably, because you are literally the only person in the room that was deemed as a bomb threat, and if you were this guy, you’d also think that you were the culprit. 

His fingers linger on your hips perhaps a bit too long – you can him patting you down like you were heading to a club – and then he lets you go reluctantly, not finding anything except for your phone which he also checked for possible timers. The interaction lasted…a minute or so, but you are already hot and bothered, getting off the strong hands holding you, even though he already let you go. 

— Are you alright? 

He must have noticed your worried face and international student badge – his English is a bit accented but nonetheless confident. You never thought that small traces of German in a speech can sound so fucking hot but, perhaps, you are just traumatized and high on adrenaline and weren't getting laid for too fucking long. 

He wears a badge – something something long German words, huge design construction that made you think he must be pretty high-rank – knowledge that you only had because of the movies and games you were playing, trying not to get off the military kink too much. Something in the situation told you that you’d spend the whole evening searching for porn with guys dressed in all black today. Maybe, a touch of cargo. 

— Y…yeah. Fuck, sorry. I’m fine, fine. Yeah. 

You are rambling and he tilts his head to the side. This large, looming hand goes to your face – you wait for either a harsh slap to return you back to reality, or a passionate and deep kiss from your fantasies and dirty novels. He slowly traces his fingers on your face, getting up, in the hairline, searching for something – perhaps, a nasty head parasite that got you acting so weird around this random guy. Random guy who is just doing his job, securing that you’re safe, sound, and not going to explode in the next few minutes. 

— No head injuries. Gut. 

You want him to touch your face some more. You want him to check for mouth injuries, to evaluate the status of your lips. Maybe do some chemical tests with that gloss you were using today. Check the reaction with his tongue. 

He twirls you in place and you almost want him to press you against the wall. Search you some more, maybe get his hands a bit deeper, pass the oh-so-modest pants that made you look like a little bitch boy – his hand goes to cup your waist again, checking for anything that might catch his interest. Nothing – and you were never this sad about Hot wearing a concealed weapon that might force him to pin you down or get you into a chokehold with those massive biceps of his. 

— What were you doing here, ma’am? 

Studying in Vienna, you never found an Austrian accent this sexy. Never knew that you might like being handled like this before – it’s not romantic, not even in the slightest, but you smile a bit shyly, a bit awkwardly, and look at him from under your lashes, trying to look as innocent as possible. You are innocent – you weren’t doing anything, you were just trying to study and write in the last few weeks. Concentrated enough, so you never even noticed a fucking bomb threat. Didn’t hear soldiers running through the building, securing each room. 

— I…study here? 

You gulp loudly, taking a few steps away from the soldier. Allowing him to examine the room, deem it safe – the bomb threat called on your university was probably fake. Maybe a call from a paranoid individual, maybe someone with nothing better to do than pranking colleges. You seriously doubt anyone would try to blow up this place while almost none of the students are actually inside – especially the library during the low season. Even you almost decided to ditch the traditional writing atmosphere and just do something in the cafeteria. 

— Oh. 

His voice actually sounds…nice. Funny even, that small remark also makes him cough and look at you more seriously. He has a mask concealing his face, some weird hood or net on top of it – you try to see his eyes, but you can only occasionally catch glimpses of ice staring at you. Mysterious, you like it. Too mysterious, that little journalist club member inside of you is itching to get a look at his face better – you tilt your head to the side, contemplating just yanking it upwards and praying that he won’t kill you. 

Although you wouldn’t mind being crushed in his hold. 

— Let’s get you out of here, ja? 

You don’t question him when he suddenly picks you up – when the world starts to spin and you are pressed against his chest, his hands are supporting you under your knees and back. Securing you in place, making sure you are nice and comfy in his hold. You don’t ask questions when he slightly adjusts your hold so he can touch more of your thighs – you think he is just getting you comfortable, and you appreciate just how thoughtful he is. 

You don’t ask questions when he holds you almost like a bridal carry, even though you are certain you aren’t injured, and someone like him probably has more interesting things to do than saving poor college students who decided to ignore bomb threats. 

His hands are warm, his chest is even warmer, and his muscles aren’t even slightly trembling. You don’t know what sort of training those guys are coming through, but it must work – his steps are light and decided even when he can’t press you firmly against him, vest standing in the way. You don’t know what to do with your hands and you don’t want to mess with the government property – you think there is a law against fidgeting with special forces soldiers on duty – so you just get them on your knees. Like a good girl. Polite girl. Girl who isn't drooling over the guy who is just doing his job. 

— Thank you. For saving me. 

You whisper it in his headset – you are worried about someone else also hearing you, but there is something intimate about tilting your head upwards and getting right into his face, your lips millimeters away from the edge of his mask. You don’t want to sound suggestive, so you sound weak instead. You don’t to sound ungrateful, so you sound pleading instead. 

His hold on your thighs gets stronger. You lick your lips nervously, chuckling to ease the atmosphere a little bit. 

Your leg brushes above his waist – and you swear that you can hear his breath hitching. It’s impossible, you think, he must be a tough and content little soldier, perfect to save damsels in distress just like you – but something in his posture, in the way his fingers twitch slightly at the edges of your body, makes you think otherwise. Maybe, you’re just dreaming. Maybe, you know nothing. 

Someone slams into the room. Another man – shorter than the one who holds you, by a large margin, but none less intimidating. Burly, muscular, dressed up in full uniform which is expected – and with his face covered up by a similar veil or mask or whatever this is – which is unexpected. You thought that special forces would have something less eye-obscuring, but what do you know? You would be dead if the bomb threat was real. 

— Other sectors secured. No bomb in sight. Commander. 

He almost hisses, the similar accent in his voice makes your cheeks heat up even more. You feel weird, dirty even, thinking of those two large, intimidating men in such an intimate setting while they are just trying to save your life – but you try to silence that little annoying voice, to convince yourself that this is probably just adrenaline, ovulation and sudden urge to procreate before you would die. 

You feel your entire body stir when the man takes a step closer, looking at you. You can’t see his face, not even the outline of it – but you feel the burning gaze on your scared expression and obediently folded hands. 

— Gut. Other civillians? — 20 civilians in the building in total. University workers, some students. Already evacuated. — Any casualties? You hear a cruel chuckle from a shorter man. — If they were, you’d hear about it, sir. No, the sector is clear. — Gut. Dismissed – we’re finishing here. — What are you doing with the civi…

— Kruger, dismissed. 

The man who holds you is surprisingly stern when he isn’t talking to you. He used a much softer, quieter tone when he was talking to you, observing if you were hurt or in danger – and he is much, much different now. A cold voice, serious tone, the image of the ruthless commander flying in your head – well, at least you were right about his patches meaning something important. 

A shorter man leaves, and the door behind him swings open. To your surprise, the man who holds you – a mysterious stranger, you can’t even seem to find a name on his uniform – doesn’t let you go. His touches feel like you’re burning alive, he is igniting and brilliant and fucking perfect and…

He lets you down to the care of the local police department and some of the uni workers. His hand brushes over your face again – you think he was checking for the injuries but, then again, why would he touch your hair ever so gently only to move it out of your face to take a good look at your lips before letting you go? You’re imagining things, you probably must be – the man is just doing his job, he isn’t trying to fuck you in the nearest hallway even if you wanted him to. 

— Sir. I…thank you, really. For the help. 

— I didn’t do anything, Schatz. Someone must been playing a joke on everyone. 

You are going to find the guy – or a girl, or someone else, you don’t discriminate, everyone is equally capable of calling on the false bomb threats – who informed the special forces about the bomb in the building, and then you are going to kiss them. 

— What kind of joke is this? 

— A dumb one. 

He looks over to his unit – a group of tall, burly men, with weapons and uniforms and everything a girl could ask for – already packing in the vehicles to move out. You brace yourself to ask for his number – for his contact, anything, everything, maybe the favorite tree in the park under which you could meet again. You know that those guys aren’t supposed to reveal their identities, that he is probably out of town anyway, special forces aren’t usually called off to false threats, you know that your attempts are futile and yet, you lick your lips for added confidence and…

— Goodbye, Scahtzen. Stay safe, ja? Don’t want to save you from a real bomb one day. 

— I…I…um, you mean you wouldn’t save me from a real bomb? 

He was already halfway to the armored car before you could say anything. You aren’t nearly confident enough to yell across the whole fucking campus territory to get a number of this hot special forces guy, and something in his hunched shoulders, twitching fingers, and slightly less social and more abrasive manners tells you that he would hate the gesture as much as you would. 

Just like this, your first even real-life military crush is driving away, leaving you bombless, hoeless, and, most certainly, more depressed than ever. Summer is going to be great, right?

*** — What do you mean calling a fucking bomb threat?! 

Your friend wasn’t happy about the pick-up strategy you wanted to use.

*** — Of course, sir, let’s raid a fucking college dorm room. 

Sergeant Sebastian Josed Krueger wasn’t happy about his commander’s newfound love for college girls. 

Mostly because König refused to fucking share. 

[lustfulslxt]

1949 ⭑ Matt Sturniolo

Chapter One

summary : you move back home with your brother and click with his friends, though the tension is high with matt and it turns into something more

warnings : brothers best friend trope, slow burn, tension, sneaky relationship, swearing, eventual smut, slight traumatic past relationship with reader’s mother, and probably some other stuff

a/n : each chapter will have a different collage solely based on what takes place in it. kind of a new idea but i’m gonna run w it. if you don’t like it, use your imagination and pretend it’s not there xx

3.4k words

prologue

—

Surprisingly, after the long and heartfelt hug, things were quiet as the three of you make your way back to the car. Your dad insisted on carrying your belongings for you, leaving you arm in arm with Nate, who refuses to leave your side.

The lights on the car flash as your dad unlocks it, heading towards the opening trunk to place your luggage in it. Nate opens the back door for you, holding his hand out, motioning you to get in. You easily slide through, the fresh aroma of black ice filling your senses. A wave of familiarity washes over you, striking you with old memories you’re so fond of.

“Are you okay?” Nate asks from beside you.

You glance at him with a smile before furrowing your eyebrows, “Yeah. How come you’re not up front?”

“Oh come on. I’ve spent thirteen years without you, I don’t ever wanna leave your side again.” He admits with a bittersweet laugh, then pauses, “Wait, unless you’re more comfortable—“

You stop him from getting back out by grabbing his arm, instantly shaking your head. “No, please stay.”

He gives you a smile, taking place right beside you again. Your father opens the door on the opposite side, and starts to scoot in before stopping as he looks at the two of you in the back.

“Wait.. I have to drive?” He questions, feigning absurdity.

“Dad!” Nate chuckles, leaving you all giggling as your dad gets behind the wheel to get you all home.

Home.

It’s weird to think that. You’re going home. It’s you, Nate, and your dad in a city you used to love, but now seems so foreign to you. You can only hope things start to fit together again.

The car ride is silent, the three of you just taking in the abrupt new change. You’re over the moon to be back with them, but you can’t help but notice the difference. And of course, things are going to be different as it’s been thirteen years. You just didn’t really know what to expect.

As you watch out the windows, the scenery becomes slightly familiar and it takes you a moment to realize where you’re at. You recognize the side streets, every turn, every tree, every house. And then you’re there.

Your eyes widen as you take in the house in front of you. Slowly exiting the car, you view the house from top to bottom. It’s exactly the same.

“You never left.” You find yourself stating.

Nate comes to your side as your dad retrieves your bags, “We wanted to stay here in case you ever found your way back home.”

Tears prick in your eyes and you can’t help but feel an overwhelming mix of emotions. Without a word, you lurch into Nate’s arms, engulfing him in a massive hug. His embrace is warm and welcoming, making you realize just how much you missed him.

Pulling away, he gives you a sad smile, rubbing your arm in a comforting manner. Your dad places a hand on your shoulder, causing your attention to shift to him. You immediately wrap your arms around him, yanking him into a much needed hug.

“Enough with being all sappy and shit. Let’s get inside, it’s cold as hell out here.” Nate chuckles.

You smile and follow them in, your heart rate increasing with every step you take. You’re in awe once you walk through the door. It’s been years, but everything’s still the same, aside from a few upgrades. It still gives that welcoming feeling you’ve desperately longed for.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Nate asks.

You look towards the staircase where your dad is headed, before looking back at your brother. He has a sort of hopeful look on his face, though you can still see he’s a bit unsure. You swallow the lump in your throat and give him a small upturn of your lips, nodding in agreement.

He starts up the same steps you used countless of times years and years ago, beckoning you to follow him. Your shaky hand grasps the railing as you do, the wooden steps slightly creaking beneath your weight. As you round the corner, you notice your dad standing outside the door to your old bedroom.

“Uh—we didn’t change anything, we kind of just left it as it was.” He starts, his tone of voice a bit nervous, “We did get a new bed when your grandma said you were coming back, figured you’d like more room as opposed to a twin. Oh, and your clothes were just pulled out to make room for what you have now. They’re packed away in the garage. I know your taste has probably changed, so we can do whatever you want with it. ”

You’re left speechless as you hesitantly cross the threshold. Your mind is flooded with old memories that you seemed to have forgotten.

“Well, we’ll leave you to get settled in.” Your dad says, “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“But—“ Nate is cut off by a tug from your father, pulling him out of the room.

As soon as the door closes, you turn back around to take it all in. Your eyes are wide as you observe your surroundings. Today is full of surprises, you almost don’t even know how to deal with it all.

Your walls are covered in that same pink pastel wallpaper, spare flowers scattered all across them. Your floor still has that white fluffy carpet that you were obsessed with when you were five. The chalkboard is covered from top to bottom with old writing from when you and Nate were little, but you notice something in the corner that looks a bit different.

I miss you so much sis

The tears flooding your eyes slip, streaming down your cheeks as your fingertips brush over the words. You wonder what it’s been like for them. Was it as hard for them as it was for you? Was it even worse?

You take a deep breath and continue around the room. Your small desk is filled with coloring books and writing utensils just like you left them the night before you were torn away from your family. Your toy box is overflowing with all sorts of things — dolls, stuffed animals, legos. You have a giant kitchen set on the side of the chest, one that you vividly remember you and Nate playing with. There’s a small bulletin board by your window, covered in pictures from your younger years.

Being with your family in your old house, your old room, brings so many feelings to the surface. You’re super glad to be home, but you feel so sad. Sad that you’ve gone so long without them, and you’ll never get that time back.

Taking a deep breath, you sit on the edge of your bed, before letting yourself fall flat against it. It’s soft and plush, just how you like it, and the fact that they remembered makes you smile.

You don’t know how long it’s been as you lay there in silence, but your eyes feel droopy and you’re practically fighting sleep. However, it takes merely minutes for it to consume you, and you drift off into a much needed slumber.

-

The sweet and smokey smell of syrup and bacon fill your nose, causing you to scrunch it up as you slowly become conscious. Your eyes are heavy and it takes a minute to adjust to the bright light shining through the window. After a moment, your body begins to wake up and you find yourself rolling over in search of your phone. Running your hands through your sheets, you sit up in a slight panic, only to feel the hardness beneath you in the back pocket of your jeans. You pull it out to check the time, shock flooding your veins as you read 12:47 PM.

“Holy shit.” You whisper to yourself, in disbelief that you slept so long.

You swing your legs off the bed, planting them on the ground as you reach your arms up to stretch. Your back subtly cracks, pulling a satisfied groan from you as your legs slightly twitch. Rolling your head from side to side, you stand up and follow the pleasant interruption that awoke you from your peaceful tranquility.

As you make your way downstairs, you hear shuffling in the kitchen. The sound of grease popping is heard, followed by a loud yelp. Quickening your stride, you round the corner and see Nate watching the stove from quite a few feet away.

“Um, are you okay?” You question, your voice still a little groggy with sleep.

Nate jumps at the sound of your voice, whipping around with wide eyes. “You’re awake!”

You give him a crooked smile, your eyebrows knitting together, “Yeah…”

He recomposes himself and points at the stove, “Sorry, dad had to work and I, uh- I was tryna make you breakfast.”

You bite back a grin and walk forward to the stove, turning the burner down. The extra grease popping ceases, it now only softly bubbling around the bacon.

“You just had the temperature too high.”

Nate chuckles, “I didn’t know you were a little chef.”

“Oh no, I just had to learn to fend for myself.” You match his laugh, pausing at your own words. “Um, sorry I slept so late. I didn’t even realize I fell asleep last night.”

“You’re good.” Nate shakes his head, “I know you were probably tired from the flight, different time zones and whatever.” You nod in agreement before he continues, “If you want, you can go shower and do what you need to do while I finish this. Just make yourself at home, it’s yours too.”

A warm smile graces your lips as you nod once again, “Yeah, okay.”

You turn on your heels, heading back to the stairs. You look back once more, watching Nate bounce all over the kitchen, and laugh to yourself at how he’s still the same as he was. Quickly you head upstairs, in desperate need of a shower to help wake you up and relax you.

Entering your bedroom, you go straight for your bags. You pull out everything you need in order to get ready for the day — a towel, washcloth, toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and a simple outfit to wear. After gathering all of your little supplies, you head to the bathroom.

Flicking the light on and shutting yourself in, you move to lay everything out on the counter. You place your washes in the shower, turning the hot water on. As you wait for it to heat up, you hang your towels on the shower rack, and begin to brush your teeth.

Once you finish, you strip from your clothes, and step into the scalding hot water. A content sigh falls from your lips as the water pellets continuously rain down on you. You run your hands through your hair, letting it soak up the water.

You find yourself staring off into space, your thoughts consumed by this new life you have to readjust to. You've wanted it back for so long, and now that you have it, you don't know what to do with it. You feel unsure of what's to come, the looming anxiety paired with an overwhelming sense of uncertainty. You just hope your family can help you navigate these new adventures ahead of you.

Snapping out of your thoughtful trance with bright red, and tender skin, you proceed to wash yourself up like you intended to. Having spent quite some time just staring off, you rush to finish cleansing yourself.

After you're done, you shut the water off and begin to dry off. Stepping out of the shower, you wrap the towel around your hair and move to the sink. You begin brushing your teeth while you air dry before getting dressed. Shaking your hair out, you hang your towel to dry, then make your way back downstairs.

"About time." Nate calls, "I was beginning to think you got on another flight without saying goodbye."

Your face droops, guilt taking over your expression as you stare at him.

His smile falls, "Too soon? I'm sorry."

You muster up a half smile and shake your head, "You're good, just wasn't expecting that."

You sit across from him at the table, both of you having a plate of breakfast in front of you. You notice a cup beside your food and look in it, eyeing its contents.

"It's tea. You still like tea, don't you?"

You grin, "Love it."

His face mirrors yours, and the two of you dig in. Your chewing falters for a moment, and you suddenly realize you should've waited until you finished eating to brush your teeth. Taking his thoughtfulness into consideration, you push past the bitter taste and continue chowing.

"Can I ask you something?" Nate breaks the silence.

You nod.

"What was it like?"

You figured he would hit you with that question sooner or later, but for some reason you're unprepared to answer it. You set your fork down and place your hands on the table as your stare at him.

"Uh," You pause, "It sucked. Mom was — I don't know. It just sucked."

He hesitantly nods. You can see that he has more questions, but he lets them go. There used to be a safe space between the two of you. You never had to worry about overstepping boundaries and swallowing your curiosity. You want that back.

"If you have something to say or ask, go ahead." You offer.

His eyes light up and he takes a moment to think. "Um, I-I just want to say that we know it wasn't your fault. Despite not seeing you for over a decade, I know how you are. It was hard for us, so I can only imagine how it was for you. We don't blame you for it. And if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm always here."

You feel a weight lift off your shoulders as you swallow the lump in your throat. You needed that. You needed to hear him say that he knows it wasn't your fault, because even though it wasn't, you were worried they would blame you.

"Best little brother in the world." You smile.

He chuckles and shakes his head, "What do you want to do today?"

"I have no idea." You admit with a laugh as you shrug, "Definitely wanna unpack, and maybe go shopping for new things. I only brought my essentials with me."

He nods, "We can do that."

The two of you finish your breakfast over small talk. Nate says he'll clean up while you start on your room, so you head up there.

You immediately pull your small speaker out, connecting your phone to it to play music. Getting started; you move all of your clothes into your dresser. You have a few perfumes and lotions that you place on top. A few pairs of shoes, you place in your closet. After emptying all of your bags, you're left with your journals.

Shortly after the move, you started going to therapy to help cope with things. Your therapist recommended that you write every day, even about the littlest of things. So, you did. Every single day, even when you didn't feel up to it, you made sure to jot down at least something — your feelings, what you did during the day, things you wish to do, etc.

Setting them in the drawer of your nightstand, you move onto your old belongings from when you were just a little girl. You gather the majority of everything, placing it all into several piles. You find yourself smiling at the memories resurfacing from going through it all. Oh, how badly you wish you could just go back.

"Hey." Nate's voice sounds from the doorway. "I brought this."

He holds up what looks to be a photo album. You meet him at your bed, both of you taking a seat as he sets it in between both of you.

"I figured maybe you would want to see some of this."

You eagerly nod, letting him open the album for the two of you to go through it. You find yourself smiling fondly at the old pictures of you guys as a family. There are pictures of you and your dad, you and Nate, Nate and your dad. You can't help but notice that your mother is nowhere to be seen in any of the pictures.

Nate seems to notice your confusion, and elaborates, "So, dad took them all out. It was hard for him; he was really mad at her. We still have them, I'm pretty sure they're just packed away in the garage with the rest of her stuff."

You nod, understanding that things had to have been difficult. You continue to go through the pictures, laughing together and commenting on every memory. However, soon enough, you're also nowhere to be found.

Your smile soon fades as you go through the pictures of your dad and Nate. From Halloween to baseball games, to dad teaching him how to golf. You even see a picture of Nate at graduation, and it brings a grave feeling to your gut. You've missed out on so much, and there's no getting it back.

Swallowing the pain, you point to a group photo of people you don't recognize. "Who are they?"

"They are my best friends." Nate smiles brightly. "They're triplets. That's Nick, Matt, and Chris. I met them in middle school, we played hockey together."

"Triplets, huh?" You say, "That's a new one."

"Yeah, they're amazing. Never a dull moment with them, that's for sure. They're pretty wild to be honest."

You give him a smile, "That's good. I'm glad you have good friends; you guys seem like you have a good relationship."

"It's awesome." He nods in agreement, "Actually, they want to meet you."

"Me?" You question, incredulously. "They know about me?"

"Really?" Nate gapes, "Of course they know about you. You're my sister, and they're my best friends. I talk about you nonstop."

Unable to help yourself, you're leaning over to pull him into a hug. He's always been the sweetest. He knows exactly what to say almost all the time.

"So, are you down?" He asks as you both part from the hug.

Your eyes widen, "Right now?"

He shrugs with a grin, "Yeah, why not?"

"O-okay." You agree, mirroring his shrug.

He pulls out his phone to presumably text them and have them come over. The two of you go downstairs before he leads you to the backdoor.

"They usually just come straight to the back, so we can just hangout out here if that's cool with you."

You hum in approval, already making your way around the backyard. Nate props his phone up against a flowerpot, running out into the yard with you.

"My sister's back!" He cheers, jumping on your back.

You stumble a bit, caught off guard, laughter pouring out of you as you quickly catch him. You turn towards his phone, a giant smile on your face. You're filled with a happiness you haven't felt in so long.

"I'm back." You copy, giving the camera a thumbs up.

He slides off of your back, picking you up and twirling you around. You let out a small yelp, joyous sounds floating in the air from the both of you. The two of you throw your arms up, cheering like maniacs, just like old times.

Your movement halts as you hear a car pull over the gravel in the driveway. Several car doors open and shut, before quick footsteps make their way to the back gate.

You're suddenly extremely nervous, bringing your hands together in front of you. Your breath catches in your throat when you see a hand reach over to pull the latch. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, unsure of your next move. Your heart races in your chest, and it's confusing to you. You're just meeting your brother's friends; it should never be this serious. But for some reason, as you listen to the creaky hinges swing the door open, you're met with a wave of undeniable tension.

—

a/n : sort of a lil cliffhangerrr lol. gotta keep yall on your toes :-)

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[laurfilijames]

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Hurricane. Power outage. Oral sex (F receiving). Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: A hurricane rolls in and knocks out the power, allowing Will to make good use of the time waiting it out with you.

A/N: I've had this idea toiling around in my head for a bit, and when we recently lost power at our cottage, I decided to go for it. I have no experience of hurricanes so I apologize if this isn't accurate, though I tried to remain vague. A big thanks to @rhoorl for the Florida hurricane knowledge and to @ramadiiiisme for supporting this idea through to the very end 💗

---

The sight when you reached the top of the stairs stopped you in your tracks, admiring Will standing by the large window of your living room looking out at the wrath of weather outside, his expression content and thoughtful.

You set down the pile of various candles you had collected from every room in the house, smiling despite feeling a tangle of nerves in your stomach at the potential strength of this growing hurricane.

“Should you be standing that close to the window?” you asked, causing Will to smirk and glance over his broad shoulder at you.

“She’s starting to really ramp up out there.”

You sighed in response, dreading the thought of it getting any worse, the rain already accumulating to the point that the drainage systems on the street couldn’t keep up with it.

Will remained in place, staring back out at the palm trees swaying wildly, the bend of their trunks impressive, seeming completely unbothered by the storm and almost calmed by it.

Coming up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his waist and brought your hands up to his chest, feeling him take a slow breath in as he covered one of your hands with his.

“I like watching Mother Nature do her thing,” he explained, his voice soothing and even. “She’s angry, letting it all out.” He squeezed your hand as you rested your cheek on his back, already tired of watching the sheets of rain and extreme wind bully everything in their paths.

“I know what that’s like,” he finished, exhaling another slow breath that you felt fill and deflate out of his lungs.

Will turned and gathered you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his somber admission now an afterthought. “So, what did you manage to scrounge up?” he asked, his tone lighter than before.

“Oh, just every candle I’ve ever bought or been given,” you smiled, turning your head to look at the array that was spread out on the kitchen table. “It might look nice when they’re all lit up, but the combination of scents might be a bit offensive.”

Will laughed, his body moving against yours with the motion of it, and you smiled and looked up at him, his blue eyes bright in the dim grey of the storm.

“I just hope the power stays on a bit longer,” you wished out loud, knowing however many candles you made glow wouldn’t be enough to outshine the encroaching dark from the storm let alone the fact that it was creeping later into the night.

“Hmm, yeah, the air conditioner is hardly keeping up as it is,” Will explained, his hand smoothing up your back where it dragged your shirt along with it, the stickiness of your skin and clothes already beginning to feel intolerable.

The lights flickered and the sound of the power surging through the house made both of you part slightly to glance at your surroundings, the warmth from the light of the lamps that were turned on illuminating your belongings for the last time before everything went dark.

Will chuckled while you groaned, his hands rubbing up and down your arms. “Well, sweetheart, it looks like you’ve got a superpower.”

You shot him a glare as you walked over to the table, starting to distribute the candles throughout the kitchen and living room, but not lighting any yet since some light was still coming in from outside.

Will sat on the couch, grinning as he watched you, almost seeming like he was pleased and entertained by the situation.

“How long before you turn on the generator?” you asked, testing your luck even though you knew what the answer was going to be.

He shook his head as he laughed again, “Not until I need to. We might have a ways to go here and I’m not wasting gas in the first few hours of this.”

His eyebrows crept up his forehead as he spoke, his voice stern and amused all at once. “You’re going to have to be patient and trust me.”

You sighed and nodded, flicking the Zippo lighter you held on and off a couple of times before walking into the living room to join him, knowing that out of all the people to have by your side during an emergency, Captain William Miller was the best and most capable one.

He had already spent hours checking the house to make sure everything was secure, gathering supplies like gasoline and food and water, and hauled sandbags all morning with Benny and Frankie that they distributed out to the neighbours, even making a point to check in on some of the elderly ones.

“C��mere,” he purred, beckoning you over to where he sat comfortably, his long legs spread wide with one arm draped over the back of the couch.

He looked at you adoringly as you moved toward him slowly, his smile growing to pull out the creases beside his mouth that couldn’t be kept hidden in his beard, and you matched it with your own sly grin, suddenly forgetting everything that was happening around you as you became pleasantly distracted by the man sitting before you.

You straddled his lap, pulling up the hem of your flowy skirt as you did, seating yourself directly on the bulge in his workout shorts that elicited a low moan from him.

“It’s going to be a long night, sweetheart,” he spoke softly, his eyes flickering over your chest and then up to your lips. “We’re going to have to ride this thing out.”

It was said with such implication that despite the heat, you shivered, goosebumps crawling up your back and down your arms, and you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you squirmed on his vast thighs.

“And what are your suggestions for…riding… it out, Captain?”

Will shrugged and smirked, his eyes glowing the same way his skin was from the humidity that hung heavily in the room, his hands groping at your hips.

“I’ve got some ideas.”

You smiled as you cupped his cheeks, loving the way his dark blond facial hair felt against your palms, and pulled him into a kiss while arching your back to get your body closer to his at the same time, both of you breathing out in the relief of your lips meeting.

Will set the pace, starting off with slow rolls of his tongue with yours, his hands carding up and down your body languidly, reminding you that there was no hurry in any of your actions and that you had all the time in the world to do anything you wanted with each other.

You slid your hands down the thick column of his neck to his chest, feeling his pulse hammer against them, landing on his chest where his body heat poured off of him, the cotton of his t-shirt damp and clinging to his form.

It took everything in you to maintain composure, thankful for Will reminding you to slow it down whenever you found yourself moving your hips faster, his hands pressing and digging into your flesh to force you to keep the steady rhythm that he started.

The slick that already saturated your thong teased you the more you ground your aching core against him, feeling his hard cock straining against the material that contained it, the excitement and anticipation of having him buried inside you intensifying by the second.

The skin on your chin and lips were already raw from how long you had been kissing, the steamy makeout session only made better by dry humping each other until you both were on the verge of finishing how you were, your whines and moans growing while your movements decreased to be as light as possible in an attempt to prolong this intoxicating tease.

Will kissed and sucked at your neck and chest, having already exposed more of you by tugging the neckline of your shirt to the side with eager hands, his breath fanning over your sweat-coated skin when he sighed deeply through his nose.

“Fuck me, you’re gonna make me cum in my shorts.”

He huffed out a laugh, but his admission only spurred you on more, grinding harder on him until his humour faded out and was replaced by ferocity, growling as he pressed his lips against yours again, the sweat that saturated his beard transferring onto you.

The storm was still going strong in the background, sheets of rain pummeling the house and striking the window with a sound that mimicked waves crashing the shoreline, the nerves you felt about it shifting into a frenzied arousal that you directed onto the man beneath you.

Your hands struggled to get under his shirt, the material so stuck to his stomach from his sweat that the skin on your palms dragged along his abdomen, the tackiness making it difficult for you to peel it up over his head.

It hit the floor with a slap, the weight of it evidence of how much the heat and you were affecting him, and you smiled against his lips at the sound of his breath hitching as you slid your hands down his chest to land on his solid pecs while your lower half continued to torture him.

You touched him everywhere you could reach, smoothing down his stomach and back up again, cradling the sides of his neck and then over his shoulders, and finally up to his hair where you let your fingers rake through it until you knew you had made it stick up in a spiky mess, deepening your kiss as the sensation made him press harder into your mouth.

The window rattled from the force of the winds, disrupting you enough that you broke your kiss and turned to look at it, the thought of it possibly shattering filling you with worry as you were reminded of your vulnerability.

Will placed his hand on your chin, his thumb smoothing it while his other fingers tucked up under your jawline, guiding your head back to face him where he silently assured you that everything was fine, his eyes reflecting a surety and vow of protection that no amount of reinforcements on the house could ever match. He adjusted the pad of his thumb so it sat on your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly to part it from the upper one, and it surprised you to see how quickly his expression changed, his eyes darkened so much by lust in a matter of seconds that the look in them rivaled the clouds spiraling outside.

He kissed you desperately, his hands falling to your waist where he lifted your shirt upward, only pausing the union of your mouths long enough to remove it from you, your braless chest grazing against his when you leaned into each other again.

Goosebumps broke out across your skin despite the humidity clinging heavily to the air around you, your nipples hardening and feeling incredibly sensitive each time his body brushed against them, your needy moans pouring into his mouth the more his hands roamed over your mostly bare form.

You could hardly handle it anymore, desperate to feel him deep inside you, moving your hips back slightly so you could access him, tearing the front of his shorts down where you reached in for his cock. Will was helpful, lifting his ass off the couch so his shorts could slide down his thighs in order to expose all of himself, his expression serious with brows furrowed and knitted tightly together as he watched you grip him in your hand and began stroking him tip to base, smearing the precum leaking from it all over his silky shaft.

He grabbed your hips, pulling you back to sit directly on top of his groin, guiding your motions as you rocked your covered pussy on his bare cock.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he hissed, holding your skirt up so he was able to watch you grind along his length, pressing his cock flat against his lower stomach where drips of cum spilled onto the smattering of flaxen pubes.

A slow sigh of approval passed your lips as you continued to languidly ride him, your eyes closing as you lost yourself in the sensation and moaning when you felt Will capture one of your breasts in his mouth and spin his tongue around your nipple.

You could feel him growing more impatient, his lips moving faster along your chest where he eagerly worshiped your tits, his fingers clawing at the thin material of your skirt as if he was ready to rip it to shreds to get at you, and his breathing became more laboured, his chest rising and falling quickly while the exhalations from his nose ghosted against the crests of your breasts.

“I need in there,” he growled, his head shaking to the side a couple of times like there was no way he could handle another second not being inside you, his fingers slipping into the crotch of your saturated panties to pull them to the side before running his index and middle fingers through your slick.

Your mouth pooled with saliva as he drove his long digits in and out of you in broad strokes before bringing them up to his mouth to suck them clean, his other hand angling his cock to line up to part your folds while you lifted yourself up on your knees to allow him access to enter you.

You sank onto him slowly, letting him fill you inch by inch until you encased him completely, his blue eyes locked with yours with an appreciation held in them that made your heart beat faster.

Remaining still, you leaned forward and kissed him, your hands holding onto either side of his face, deepening your kiss as you relished in the fullness he provided without moving.

When you parted, Will gave you a soft smile that made you melt, his fingers coming up to trace along the side of your cheek.

“I love you,” he said, the surety in his words clear, although his expression was a thrilling mix of adoration and something waiting to be unleashed, the suspense of experiencing either rough or gentle treatment exhilarating you.

“I love you too, Will,” you breathed, not daring to look away from him.

A strong gale slapped the side of the house, reminding you that the hurricane blasting outside wasn’t to be forgotten, but Will immediately drew your attention back to him, his hands smoothing up your back to hold you against him in a firm, but soft way, his lips pressing onto your shoulder and across your collarbone to your neck, alternating between kisses and nips that told you his control was beginning to falter.

You started moving on him, riding him in careful waves that felt so incredible you weren’t sure how long you could keep it up, knowing that whether you moved slow or fast, you would be reaching your climax in no time.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, resting his back against the couch to watch you, locking his hands on your hips to force you down hard each time you lifted yourself up and almost off his cock.

He was completely enamoured, looking at you as if anything could be happening outside that window and he wouldn’t care to notice, his eyes dancing over your form in a struggle to choose which part of you he wanted to see the most.

Finding the perfect spot that made you thrum with ecstasy, you rolled your hips and bounced up and down, your swollen clit hitting the base of his cock in a shattering blow each time, your skin tingling from head to toe as your orgasm built.

“You’re right there, aren’t you?” Will asked, his words breathy as he admired you sliding on him.

“Yes, fuck!”

Will thrusted up into you a few times, your cries growing loud enough they almost drowned out the noise of the hurricane, your nails digging into the flesh on his shoulder as you approached your high.

“Hey, hey, hold on,” Will interrupted, though his voice was soothing. “Not yet.”

His eyes were big and bright despite the dark grey that had fully consumed the room, and although you were taken aback by him edging you, you couldn't deny the trust you had in him to look after you.

“Sit down,” he ordered, nodding to the space on the couch beside him as helped move your legs off of his.

Will stood and removed his shorts that sat halfway down his legs, stepping out of them before moving to kneel on the floor in front of you, his thumbs smoothing on your knees in a way that contradicted the way he forcefully pressed on them to encourage you to spread your legs for him.

He kissed his way up the inside of your right thigh, a low growl coming from him as he inhaled deeply when he reached your core, and then moved over to your other thigh, peppering wet kisses slowly away from where you needed him most until you were squirming where you sat.

“Will…” you breathed, shifting your hips to try to bring yourself closer to him.

“Let’s get this off,” he grunted, his patience thinning as your skirt was preventing him from taking everything he wanted.

He reached behind you, his fingers easily finding the zipper and pulled it down, keeping steely eye contact while wiggling it off your hips with the help of you shifting from one cheek to the other until he peeled the flowy fabric off of your body.

The creases on his forehead were pronounced as he continued to look up at you as he tugged at the waist of your thong, sliding it down to expose your dripping cunt that his eyes were now fixed on as he guided the wet piece of cotton to your feet.

Will hooked his arms under your legs, letting them relax on his biceps, his tattooed forearms wrapping around your thighs to hold you securely. He pulled you toward him, bringing you to the edge of the cushion so you were flush with his face, his nose brushing your folds before his tongue swiped through the mess he had already made.

A long moan toppled out of you as you raked your fingers through his hair, lifting your hips slightly to get even more contact with his talented tongue that licked at you slowly and precisely in an effort to wreck you.

He picked you apart minute after agonizing minute, continuously bringing you to the peak only to stop you there each time, the violent storm outside going ignored and nothing compared to the one raging inside you.

As always, Will was completely focused on his mission, working you with the expertise he had come to master over all the hours spent learning your body, knowing the exact amount of pressure placed on the perfect spot that would send you soaring.

Not once did his hands leave their hold on your legs, completely unselfish in his art and not even considering touching himself, his generosity and the thought of his leaking, rigid cock left waiting for attention adding to your demise.

You pleaded over and over, his name like a song with the storm as your instrumental background, desperate for release as you ground against his face, your heels digging into his waist as he in turn dug his mouth harder into your cunt.

He had you where he wanted you, and pushing your tolerance a little further, Will unraveled one of his arms from around your leg and slipped his hand between the sofa and you, fingering you slowly while he sucked at your over-sensitive clit, the precise hook of his fingers making you clench around them like a vice.

And then he stopped.

You cursed loudly, whining and squirming as he sat up and looked at you with a satisfied expression, his face glistening from your pleasure.

A stray branch from a tree flew by and struck the house, drawing both of your attention to the window, but Will was quick to recover where your focus belonged.

He stood, a slight hitch as he straightened his long legs, his body that had been put through so much physical turmoil over his years of service known to cramp up if left idle for too long.

Will gripped at your knee, pushing it toward the back of the couch so your body was forced to spin and lay down, crawling between your spread legs until he was positioned over top of you with his arms braced on either side of your shoulders.

He kissed you intensely, moaning into your mouth as his cock nudged where he had left you aching for relief, savouring you like he had gone without the press of your lips on his for days.

His hand found yours, interlacing your fingers as he brought your arm above your head, laying his body completely on yours so he covered you entirely, protecting you with all he had.

He was heavy, but comforting, his weight assuring and a reminder of his strength and unwavering love for you, and at the same time it came as a warning of the crushing power he could choose to have, like he was a hurricane all in himself and you were in his path of destruction.

Will paused in kissing you as he adjusted his hips, looking down between your bodies to watch his cock easily push through your tight folds, a shaky breath exhaling from his parted lips as his brows knitted tightly together at the sensation of being back in your embrace.

You looked to the side to see out the window as another blast of wind surged against the house, only to have Will squeeze your hand that he still held in his, his voice calm and even.

“Hey, focus on me,” he ordered, his eyes a turbulent blue when you met them. “Look at me.”

You nodded, holding his gaze as he began to move inside you, the feel of him stroking your walls in long, slow drags making it difficult to keep your eyes open.

Your free hand ran along the flexing muscles of his back, clawing at his sweat-coated skin as he found a pace that brought you right back to the point he had left you at more than once, your head tipping back into the couch as you were dragged into the throes of pleasure even more intensely than before.

“You’re safe with me, sweetheart,” Will promised, his voice intoxicating and comforting all at once. “I’ve got you, you can relax…”

He spoke against your neck before moving his mouth back to yours, kissing you gently before probing his tongue in, the tempo of his thrusts deepening now that he knew you were succumbing to everything he was giving you.

He moved on you like the wind moved the rain, pushing and forceful, seeking his own release as he rolled against you with fervor and breathy moans were exchanged between your mouths as you chased your highs together.

Your whole body tensed, convulsing and giving up all control as he fucked you through the shattering orgasm made even more powerful thanks to how he had edged you, feeling yourself release on his shaft that alternated between being buried deep inside you and pulling out almost completely.

Will pressed his mouth hard on yours before breaking the seal of your lips, allowing his laboured breaths and rough grunts to sound out as he fought to follow right behind you, the cadence of your contracting walls coaxing out his end.

You could feel him pulse inside you, filling you to the brim with his thick, hot seed that was always generous in its quantity, his pace remaining steady though his rhythm began to break.

Drops of sweat from his brow landed on your chest, his harsh movements shaking the accumulated moisture off of him, continuing to buck into you erratically until he had nothing left to give.

He crashed against your lips again, transferring even more sweat from his efforts onto your skin, his hand releasing yours where he brought it to your head and smoothed it over your hair, kissing you slowly but purposefully as he gradually let the rolling of his hips fade out.

After a minute, Will pulled out of you, reaching for some tissues out of the box on the side table and handed them to you, taking some for himself for you to both clean up. He stood with a grunt, looking down at you with an extended hand to take the soiled tissues from you, the muscles in his cheeks flinching wildly as he clenched his teeth together.

Will paused for a minute, looking out at the tempest scene, all of his veins raised as blood pumped strongly through them, his muscles accentuated beautifully from his efforts, and you couldn’t help but fall even further in love for him, his face stoic and almost unreadable, but only you knew how much emotion lingered beneath.

He sighed as he moved again, stretching his weary limbs while stalking to the kitchen, and you wondered if he had any idea how much you worshiped him even as he did the simplest of things.

You laid there listening to him rummage around, looking out the window at the ever-present hurricane, the room almost completely dark as night had successfully consumed the sun along with the storm.

Will returned with two glasses of water and set one on the table, passing the other to you.

“Drink up, sweetheart,” he drawled, smirking as he spoke. “The eye hasn't even passed over yet, we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

The wink he sent you went straight to your core, your anticipation of whatever else he had planned for you enticing you and almost had you hoping this hurricane would last for days.

You returned his smile as you brought the glass to your lips, sipping it as you watched him sit on the couch beside you and grab the lighter off the coffee table, flicking it on so the warm flame illuminated his dewy, gorgeous features in the otherwise dreary dark. He lit the two candles that you had placed there earlier before grabbing his own glass and downing the contents of it, seeing the way his throat moved as he swallowed making you thirsty for more.

He sighed when he finished drinking, running his hand over his face to rid it of the sweat, and looked back over to you still laying where he had left you.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked, his eyes slowly traveling up your naked form until they landed on yours.

You shook your head ‘no’, giving him a sated smile, thinking how you would happily give up air conditioning and electricity permanently if it meant sharing more moments like this with him.

Will gave a nod and laid down beside you, helping you shift so there was room for him to lay with his front against your back, spooning you comfortably where you both were able to face the window.

His arm draped over your waist and tucked under yours, his hand cupping your breast, and tangling his legs with yours, brought his groin as close to your bum as he could.

He hummed against the back of your neck, his nose brushing your damp skin, and you smiled when you felt he was hard again, his cock pressing between your cheeks.

“You’re going to outlast this hurricane,” you giggled, squirming so your bum rubbed along his shaft, making him growl against your skin.

“Damn right, sweetheart,” he chuckled, his hand running down your stomach and around to your ass, spreading your cheeks apart where he slowly pushed inside your tight walls.

He kissed your neck, the sensation of his beard on your skin making you moan and shiver, his hand returning to your breast where he tugged and pinched at your peaked nipple.

“We're going to need to pace ourselves, here,” he warned in your ear, beginning the slow drag of his cock out of you before slamming it back in, the conflict he felt between wanting to keep you safe and seeking to destroy you playing in his mind.

---

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[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Merry Ex-Mas - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Fem!Navy Officer!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Cheating/Infidelity (Not Between Reader and Rooster); Friends to Lovers; Romantic/Sexual Tension; Implied Sexual Content/Suggestive Content; Light Angst; Use of “You,” No Y/N

Summary: After surprising your boyfriend doesn’t go as planned, you spend Christmas with Rooster.

Master List

It was Christmas Eve morning and the house that you shared with Fritz, Phoenix, and Rooster was growing emptier by the hour. Phoenix left the night before, after you all got off work, to head to her brother’s house to spend the holidays there. Fritz left at the ass crack of dawn to drive almost half the day to be home with his family for a few days.

And you were getting ready to surprise your boyfriend for Christmas.

He told you that he was spending Christmas with some friends and because you knew his AirBnB password, you could see where he was staying. And after not seeing each other for five months, you knew that you needed to put in an effort to see him for the holidays. The two of you had been having a lot of fights lately and you were hoping that a Christmas together would help patch things up a little.

“You’re leaving soon too?” you asked Rooster, pulling on your coat.

“Yeah, probably in like two hours,” Rooster stated quietly, sitting at the kitchen island as you packed some snacks for your drive. He struggled to hide his disapproval of your choice as he glanced out the window for a moment. “You’re all packed up?”

“Yeah, I’ll get gas on the way to the highway and then I’ll just drive straight there,” you replied, glancing up to see Rooster’s expression as he turned to face you again. Sighing, you turned away from him. “Don’t give me that look.”

“I just don’t want you to drive all that way and be disappointed, that’s all.”

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted, gathering your last few things.

Bradley and your boyfriend didn’t get along. Actually, none of your friends really got along with your boyfriend. Granted, you complained about him a lot, but unlike the rest of your friends, Bradley didn’t even make an effort to try and get along with your boyfriend. The two of them just avoided each other whenever your boyfriend visited.

Rooster walked you out to your car, carrying your bag for you. You took it from him and moved to put it in the trunk. When you came walking around the car, he opened your door for you. Giving him a quick hug and smile, you slipped into your car.

“I’ll see you in a few days,” you promised him.

“Safe travels,” he returned quietly.

“You too.”

Rooster stood on the front steps of the house as you backed up. Once you were gone from his view, he headed back inside. Even though he told everyone that he had plans with people ‘from back home,’ Rooster was planning on celebrating the holiday alone.

As he pretty much had since he was eighteen, if he had it off.

So, he was just going to bake some cookies like he used to with his mom, watch some movies, and catch up on sleep. He didn’t tell anyone because he assumed that they’d try to drag him along with them and Bradley didn’t want to interrupt their holidays with their families. He didn’t want the pity.

He was just going to have a quiet holiday by himself. And he was okay with that.

~~~~~

You finally spotted the house. But you were a bit confused to only see one car in the driveway since your boyfriend listed off a bunch of names of people that were coming.

Parking behind your boyfriend’s car, you carefully shut the door and walked towards the house. Testing the door, you found that it was unlocked and let yourself inside. The sound of music quickly hit your ears and made you pause. You glanced around the rather fancy AirBnB when you noticed a pair of heeled boots that clearly belonged to a woman.

Frowning, you walked deeper into the house, keeping your steps light. You turned the corner and noticed the bedroom door ajar. Slowly cracking it open, you stood, shocked, when you saw your boyfriend and some woman that you’d never seen before fucking on the bed.

You stepped back from the door, your heart racing as you processed the image. But once you got over the initial shock, you jumped into action.

You started in the kitchen and stole the wine that they brought. Heading back outside, you stowed the wine in your car before you walked over to your boyfriend’s car. You let air out of his tires, not enough to be too obvious, but enough to cause problems—you wanted to drag that punishment out a bit more.

You walked back into the house and returned to the kitchen. Filling a bowl with ice cold water, you carried it to the bedroom. Opening the door as the music hid your footsteps, you tossed the water onto them, causing them to scream out in shock. Scrambling around, your boyfriend’s face noticeably paled when he saw you standing there.

“Baby—” he started, causing you to chuck the plastic bowl at him.

“Surprise,” you called sarcastically. Turning to the woman he was with, you added, “Nice meeting you. Have a wonderful Christmas with him.”

You turned on your heel and stormed out as your ex-boyfriend got to his feet. He pulled on his sweatpants and ran out after you, leaving the other woman alone in the bedroom, but you were in no mood to listen to him.

“It’s not my fault,” he stated, earning a scoff from you in return.

“You just accidentally lied to me, brought another woman up here by mistake, and then your dick just magically fell into her vagina? Do you really think I’m that fucking stupid?” you growled, turning to face him.

“You’re always working. And I love you and I cared about our relationship, but I was lonely.”

“Why didn’t you just break up with me? Why didn’t you grow a pair of balls and tell me that you were feeling that way?”

“I didn’t want to be the dick who broke up with you right before Christmas.”

“Oh, so you decided to be the dick who cheated on me right before Christmas instead?” you countered, raising your voice more.

“How do I know that you didn’t do the same? You’re literally living with a guy who’d fuck you if you let him,” your ex-boyfriend snapped back before adding, “Actually, are you fucking him? That would explain a hell of a lot to me.”

“You know what, have a great fucking life,” you replied, turning and heading out of the house. “I’m fucking done.” Reaching for the door handle, you yanked it open and sent one last glare back at him. “Merry fucking Christmas, dickhead.”

Getting into your car, you quickly backed down the driveway. You didn’t let the tears fall until you were on the highway.

It was already pitch black when you returned home, but it wasn’t too late. You could probably just make yourself a quick dinner and then soak in a bath by yourself and decompress. Unlocking the door, you dragged your bag inside and kicked off your shoes, not bothering to be quiet because you assumed that you were alone.

Bradley, who was still home, heard the noise and assumed that someone broke in. Sliding off his bed, he reached for his baseball bat. He held it aloft as he slowly crept out of his bedroom and down the stairs to confront the intruders.

You were lost in your own world, looking through the fridge. The bottle of wine that you stole from your ex was already open on the counter and you contemplated drinking all of it tonight. Closing the door to the fridge, you turned and screamed bloody murder when you spotted Bradley standing there with a baseball bat.

“What the fuck!?” you both shouted at the same time.

You dropped the container that you grabbed and jumped back. Bradley, quickly realizing that it was you, dropped the bat and let out a breath of relief. You held a hand to your heart and leaned back against the cabinet behind you, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor.

“What are you doing here?” you both asked at the same time.

“You were supposed to leave after me,” you stated quietly, causing Bradley to wince.

“Yeah, uh . . . plans changed.”

“Did you have plans in the first place?” you asked him softly.

“. . . No.”

You nodded slowly without any judgment. You simply pulled your knees up to your chest and leaned back against the cabinets. Bradley noted the redness to your eyes and the subtle sniffle and tear stains on your cheeks before slowly walking over to you. Sitting down beside you, he reached up and grabbed the plate on the countertop.

“Cookie for your thoughts?” he offered, causing you to laugh softly.

“You bake?” you asked, picking up a sugar cookie.

“Only around Christmas,” he replied, putting the plate back. He stared at you for a moment before asking, “You want to talk about it?”

“You were right,” you stated, taking a bite of the cookie. Looking down, you chewed slowly. “I found him in bed with another woman.”

“That son of a bitch.” Bradley turned to you with a softer expression. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t cheat on me,” you replied bitterly, taking another bite of your cookie.

“What did you do?”

“I let the air out of his tires and dumped water on him and her when they were in bed. And I stole their wine,” you added with a laugh. “It’s about the little things.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“He said that I worked too much and he felt lonely, both of which are perfectly fine, but I would have rather just preferred that he break up with me. And then when I told him that, he accused me of cheating on him.”

“With who?”

“You,” you answered honestly, turning back to him.

“Me?” he replied quietly.

“Yeah. He said you hated him.”

“That’s accurate, especially now,” Rooster agreed, nodding slowly. “Still, I’m sorry that you had to put up with that bullshit. You deserve better than that.”

“Yeah,” you responded softly, staring into Rooster’s big brown eyes. “I do.” The two of you stared at each other for a long moment before you added, “Do you think you can get the fire started?”

~~~~~

Tossing memories of your ex into the fire that Bradley started in the fireplace for you, you smiled over at Rooster as he started to play a song on the piano. He turned to you with a matching smile, pressing his fingers down on the keys.

“Old photos roasting on an open fire,” Bradley sang jokingly, causing you to crack up. “Black smoke nipping at your nose.”

“Just a little bit,” you defended yourself. “And we have the fire extinguisher.”

“I was the one who brought it in,” Bradley reminded you, causing you to turn away with a smile. “And I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Sorry,” you teased, tossing another photo onto the fire. “Please, continue.”

Bradley sang another verse as you finished up with your reminders. Simply standing in front of the fire, you reached for your wine and savored the moment.

“Although it’s been said many times, many ways, Merry Christmas,” Rooster sang, locking eyes with you again, “to you.” He finished the chord before slowly removing his fingers from the keys. With a softer look in his eyes, he added, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Bradley.”

The two of you continued to hold your shared stare as you slowly walked over to the piano. Bradley stared up at you as you stepped up beside him. He turned in his seat a bit, almost inviting you in. He didn’t make a move to reach for you, letting you dictate what happened, but he didn’t pull away when you slowly leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He rested a hand on your cheek, matching your passion, and happily accepting you onto his lap.

~~~~~

There was a layer of frost on the sliding door on Christmas morning. The fire burned itself out the night before, but there was still a warmth that lingered in the room, even though the embers had lost their glow. While there were stockings hung up on the mantle, there was a collection of four socks—two pairs—on the rug. Accompanied by two pairs of pants, a sweater, a tank top, a bra, two pairs of underwear, and a partridge in a pear tree. On a tee shirt anyways.

Slowly coming out of your deep sleep, you cuddled further into Bradley’s chest. He was still asleep with his arm draped over your waist and his head resting on a pillow. He had thrown a thick blanket over the two of you the night before and you pulled it up and over your shoulders. You started to drift off to sleep again, but when you felt Bradley’s hand start to travel up and down your back in a soothing pattern, you picked your head up.

“Morning,” he greeted you, causing you to smile.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he returned, wrapping his arm just a little tighter around you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Great. You’re really warm,” you mused, resting your head on his chest again. “What time is it?”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s Christmas.”

“Good point.” Sitting up, you offered Bradley a soft kiss in greeting. Pulling back, you held yourself up as Bradley’s smile grew. “So, what do you normally do, first thing on Christmas morning?”

“Unwrap presents of course.”

You pulled the blanket back over you as Bradley teased it down. Offering him a jokingly sharp look, you laid down against his chest.

“Make me breakfast first.”

“I can make us waffles,” Bradley offered, causing you to hum in agreement. “With strawberries.” You literally moaned as he added, “with whipped cream and maple syrup.”

“If you make me that, I’ll give you your present early,” you offered, pulling Bradley in for another kiss that he eagerly returned.

[pendragon1400]

Elfsong

Do you ever think about how messed up the staff at Elfsong are after the party stays there?

Tav traveling with Gale, Astarion and Shadowheart, looking like a respectable adventuring team: "Excuse good sir, is there a room we could rent?"

innkeeper is all: "Eh, everyone else has been staying away due to the gruesome murders, sure. In fact pay me more and you can have the entire upstairs."

Tav: "Wonderful! We should get the rest of the party, I think everyone will be happy to have a bed again!"

Innkeeper: "Uh, okay we do have ample space up there. Remember if you need food you can order it."

*Cut to the rest of the party showing up*

Wyll: "Our campions rented the room upstairs. Is there anyone to help with our belongings?"

Karlach lifting two trunks, "No need for all that! Just show us where the room is."

Lae'zel carrying a trunk and backpack: "If that man is not giving you the key, I am sure we can find another way inside."

Innkeeper: "Apologizes, uh is that an owl bear?"

Halsin gently guiding Scratch and the Owl Bear cub inside.

Innkeeper: "You have an Owl bear...A dog...and"

Minsc: And a miniature giant space hamster!"

Innkeeper: "Right...Well it's upstairs. Enjoy you're stay..."

The innkeeper just watches in utter confusion and mild panic as the entire group troupes up the stairs followed by Withers, Mizora, Duke Raven guard for some reason and Shadowheart's parents.

Also the food requests would be a nightmare.

"I'm just saying all you need to do is add some spice. It is lifeless!"

Tav: "GALE STOP ARGUING WITH THE KITCHEN AND GO TO BED!"

Astarion: "Oh, do they have any more blood from the beef roast?"

Edit: I compeletly forgot about Aylin and Isobel. So on top of all these people in walks the moon maiden loving holding hands with her angel wife. Also Yenna and their cat is there as well.

[joshfutturman]

"you have me, you always have"

oneshot (request) - you and clapton have been in a 'will they won't they' type relationship for years, you're best friends - but is that all you want? (2.3k words) pairing - clapton davis (detention) + reader (gender neutral) tags: making out / kissing, moans (oops :3), feelings realisation, will they won't they, suggestive scenes, no use of y/n, vague alcohol mention, cursing

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

clapton. davis. what could you say about clapton davis? you had been best friends for as long as you could remember. it was always just easy with him. you never had to try too hard or try to be funny - he just got you, and you got him.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

notes: this was SO much fun!!! thank you so so much for the request @rhilove1234 ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵◌₎♡ - you're officially the first request of this account! i hope this was alright for you ٩( ´◡` )

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

clapton. davis. what could you say about clapton davis? you had been best friends for as long as you could remember. it was always just easy with him. you never had to try too hard or try to be funny - he just got you, and you got him.

it was actually kind of poetically perfect that you two had applied to the same college together and had been accepted, a miracle too. clapton had the lowest gpa you'd ever heard of, but with his interest in music and the passion he clearly had for the history behind it - the college took kindly to that. you wondered if he offered to create a mix-tape for the assessors. there must have been some sort of bribe involved.

there was a time when he'd told you of his fear of the future, how he'd rather stay in the present. you remember this moment vividly, the two of you sat on your front lawn, stars sprawling above you as the world grew quiet. clapton nervously fidgeted with a blade of grass and you watched on. "the present is good, what's so wrong with wanting to stay here?" he spoke quietly, as though he knew that he didn't really believe what he was saying.

"well, yeah, the present is pretty cool," you smiled, nudging his shoulder with yours - this earned a smile from him, "but. . . don't you wanna see what's out there? who's out there?"

his eyes perked up from the blade of grass and settled on you for a few moments before darting across the street. his smile turned softer, shyer. clapton had all he wanted, right here.

the journey towards the college would take a couple of hours and clapton offered to give you a ride. your hands shook as you packed your belongings into his trunk. he watched from the side, eyebrows furrowing as he bit the inside of his cheek. once you were both settled into the small red car, clapton set off. but not before he reached his hand over, giving yours a reassuring squeeze.

he didn't let go for the entire journey.

the dorm room was pretty much what you were expecting, cramped, but decent. your roommate, damon, offered a smile to both of you as clapton helped you inside with your luggage. with a warm, tight hug and a small cheeky kiss on the cheek that you laughed off and so did he, clapton left. not before he sheepishly eyed your roommate, though. they exchanged a look, and it made your eyebrow raise as you gingerly rubbed the skin where his lips had been.

as soon as that door closed, damon piped up. "your boyfriend?"

a laugh erupted from you. clapton? your boyfriend? you hadn't even kissed, how could you possibly be dating? was it the kiss on the cheek? that doesn't count. you were best friends. there were no feelings there. clapton davis? dating? never. that damn skateboard had his heart. yeah. it wasn't like you had feelings for him that were bubbling below the surface, threatening to escape after every interaction. it's not like you wanted to ask him if this was something more. and it definitely wasn't like you had thought about pushing him against the lockers every day and kissing him like time was running out, or that you imagined him taking his hand in yours, for real - nah.

best friends. that's all it was.

but that comment remained firmly in your mind. it had been a few weeks and you couldn't shake it. was this really something more? could it be, even?

clapton was the kind of guy who could win anyone around, practically everyone he had ever met had fallen in love with him in some capacity. sure, he could be an ass when it came to his music opinions and that adorable sting fixation could be grating - but not to you. it was exactly that, adorable. he was like this with everyone, right?

even in class, you found it hard to focus. he'd insist on sitting behind you or beside you so he could pester you. in this particular lecture, he was behind. clapton leans back, swinging in his chair as he eyes the back of your head, caught in a daydream.

he sighs, deeply. clapton often looked at you like this when you weren't looking. he would desperately try to think of something to say to make you laugh, to catch your attention, to have your eyes fall on him even just for a little while. he flips open his little black notebook and peers at the bullet-pointed contents. 'say something funny, say something witty, wear their favourite colour, tell them you like them.' he hastily shut the book.

leaning over, his fingers brush your hair behind your ear. you immediately felt goosebumps spread across your neck and a tingle ran down your spine like lightning. a blush burned deep in your cheeks. "do. . . you got a pen i could borrow?" clapton whispered, his breath hot on your skin.

with a hard swallow, you passed a pen backwards and offered him a quick smile before looking straight ahead again, gritting your teeth to firmly push those thoughts from your head.

best. friends. that's all it was.

these thoughts led to you avoiding him, avoiding one on one time. it was better to stay in a group when you were with him, or was it? damon wasn't the last person to ask if you guys were dating. and you saw clapton's face when he was asked, the laugh he gave people - clearly he thought it was a joke too.

it was fine, it was going to be fine. one of your classmates had invited you to a house party that night, this would surely take your mind off things. you'd get some space, more space from clapton and maybe you'd find someone new. maybe he'd find someone new.

your stomach churned at the thought.

walking inside, you relished the sound of conversation from all sides. there wasn't any space to listen to your thoughts in here and that's exactly the kind of escape you wanted. shoulders rising and falling with a sigh of relief, you find the kitchen. a drink in hand and you definitely feel more relaxed. yeah, things were going to work out. things were-

clapton.

your eyes fixate on him from across the room. he's on the sofa, surrounded by people. they're chatting to him like he's the most interesting guy in the world. you notice when he laughs, they do too. they're hanging on his every word and they love it. they're too far away for you to make out their conversation, but you can tell that clapton is enjoying telling the story. he always did like attention - and not in a conceited way, he just naturally attracted people.

and then, his eyes met yours.

eyes widening, you look away and down the rest of your drink. a few seconds later, you started to leave the kitchen area to retreat towards the cramped hallway. clapton called out to you, telling you to wait, to 'come join him'. you didn't listen, but if you'd stayed a few seconds longer, you might have heard that the story he had enjoyed telling so much was about you and him.

in the hallway, you gathered yourself and ran your fingers through your hair. it wasn't long before you heard clapton approaching too, though, and you let out a soft grunt of frustration. "trouble in paradise?" someone muttered and you shot them an icy glare. the door to the backyard ahead, you left and slammed it behind you.

the cold atmosphere hit you and your cheeks were hotter than you realised. it felt as though you could actually breathe in the night air. but when you heard the door handle turn and clapton exit, you felt just as tense again.

"what the hell is going on with you?" he speaks in a firm but confused tone, there was a hint of hurt in there. the brunette approached you from behind and stopped just shy of you. "you've been acting weird for weeks, ignoring me, rejecting every single offer to hang out - did i do something wrong?"

that last sentence hurts you, it hurt to think of him wondering if he'd upset you. "no." is all you manage to say.

night envelops you both, the quiet thumping of the music from inside fills the silence in between your words.

"then, what?" he asks and you can hear him almost stomp his feet.

"people keep asking me if we're. . . a thing and i thought. . . well i thought it would be better if we kept some distance, that's all." you said with a shrug, folding your arms firmly.

silence falls around you both for a few moments. you wondered if he could hear how loudly your heart was beating in your chest, as though it were threatening to escape.

and then you could feel his presence behind you, his head near your shoulder, lips close to your ear. ". . . is that what you want?" clapton asked, his breath shaking slightly.

the closeness was almost too much to handle. your stomach in knots, it trips over itself, desperately trying to untangle the anxious mess inside. of course distance wasn't what you wanted.

he mutters your name softly into your ear, placing a hand on your hip and you snap, turning quickly with clenched fists. you want to yell, you want to ask him what you both are, you want to tell him to piss off - you want him.

fuck, you want him.

clapton raises his hands slightly to give you space and looks rather defeated, those hazel puppy dog eyes veering to the left to avert your heated gaze. but he then stands still, slowly his eyes return to yours and he can see conflict behind your eyes. gaining a little more of his confidence back, he puffs out his chest and takes a step closer. you noticed how his hands still shook though, despite that secure stance.

you held his gaze as he approached, your own hands shaking in turn. he almost commanded your attention with those eyes. and you realise in that moment that clapton sees you. he really sees you. he always has. you crave him, like it's been years since you both touched, his soft skin against yours.

"is that. . . what you want?" he repeats, bringing you out of your thoughts and he's firmer this time. you are inches from one another.

his hand snakes towards your neck along your supple skin, cupping against your jaw, thumb resting on your cheek. you can't help but let out a small gasp in response as your hand comes up to rest on his wrist. your cheek nuzzles into his touch, warm, safe.

"i want you." you finally admit, words trembling from your mouth, a short laugh following suit as if it was so silly to hear it out loud.

clapton's eyes sparkle and stare back into yours. you notice how his whole face lights up, unable to hide the smile pulling on his lips. "you have me, you always have." he admits with a soft chuckle like it was so obvious.

and then he kisses you, he kisses you like he's hungry, like he's starving. your lips collide, your eyes close and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. you come undone. clapton wraps an arm around you to pull your body closer to his and you trail a hand up the back of his neck to grip that messy, adorable hair. his tongue slips into your mouth and you welcome it, feeling warmth rise in your belly.

you never wanted to let go, you never wanted to stop. his hand firmly on your neck and a strong hand on your back, he held you tightly. though you tried to suppress it, a little sigh of pleasure escapes and you can feel him smirk proudly through the kiss. it causes him to hold you tighter in response and your other hand grips his shirt for stability.

the cold air nips at your skin but it's a welcome sensation against the fervency of the kiss. his hand slides around your neck to the back of your head, his fingers lacing into the back of your hair causing ripples of tingles across your shoulders. you whisper his name into his mouth and it comes out in a pleading tone - but you're not sure what you're pleading for.

he gives you what you want, despite you yourself not knowing what that was. a gentle tug on your hair and his firm hand trailing down your side to tug at the bottom of your shirt cheekily. a giggle erupts from your lips as you pull away just enough to let it out, eyeing him with a smirk.

before you know it, your hand is in his and your eyes are drawn to watch your hands tangle together. it amazes you how perfectly they fit, his digits sneaking into yours with a thumb caressing your skin. it felt right. this was exactly what you wanted. it felt different from the other times, more tender, more meaningful. he gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you meet his gaze once more.

"so," he speaks up, breathless, "is our anniversary now or is it when i thought we were actually dating all those years ago?"

you can't help but laugh, breathless too. "oh my god," you roll your eyes, "shut up."

[motomamita]

eddie munson × fairy!reader

warnings: smut, +18, dubcon by reader, tighs fuck, fantasy creatures.

Influenced by the sunny and cool days in Hwakins, Eddie decided to go camping outside the town on his own. Serious mistake.

Without a compass and in the middle of the forest, Eddie was lost in the cold night. Things got even worse when, in complete darkness, he did not notice where he was stepping and fell down a small ravine, hitting his head and remaining unconscious for several hours.

Fairy!reader, who had been watching him for hours, tried to fight her instincts and not meddle with humans. However, her conscience would not be clear if she left Eddie unconscious and alone in the darkness of the forest.

Carefully, she managed to drag him to her small house inside the trunk of a large tree, a few meters from where he had fallen. She laid him down on her bed, covered him with some bushes, and began to clean his notable wounds. It was not the first time she saw a human, the forest used to be filled with hunters during certain seasons and many of them came to be relatively close to her territory. The difference was that she had never seen one so close, much less bringing him to her place, her refuge.

When Eddie's wounds were clean, she went to her small kitchen and started a small fire to make her herbal tea. Meanwhile, Eddie was still unconscious and unable to attack her if he wanted to. She approached him and looked at him carefully. She started with his face, his long eyelashes, his nose, the small acne scars on his skin and his pink lips. Curious, she touched that last part with her fingertips, surprised by how soft it was. Then she continued with his neck to his chest and watched as it rose with each of his breaths. Finally she reached his pants.

Within the world of fairies, men were scarce compared to women, and the few men that could be found were characterized by their extreme shyness. Fairy!reader had never had the opportunity to be with any man, neither fairies nor humans. At first she didn't care, she preferred to stay alone but calm in her small home, planting flowers and herbs, and communicating with the small animals that passed by. However, her curiosity, and need, began to grow as time went by. That led her to watch the hunters from afar, admiring their strong muscles and masculine aromas, so contrasting with the delicacy that characterized her species. She soon discovered that those hunters were not good people, because they only went to her forest to kill animals and destroy nature as if it belonged to them.

But Eddie, he didn't seem like that type. He just walked through the forest, collecting stones with strange shapes and taking polaroids of the most colorful flowers, without tearing them from their place. Even with his face unconscious, his expression looked serene and sweet. Equally or more charming than the fairies you've ever heard of.

Seeing him there, at her mercy was tempting. She knew the risks she was running by having him there, he could wake up at any moment and break her delicate wings. But hee curiosity was greater, so greater that she did not mind losing his life there.

Sh sat on hee bed and carefully she brought her hand to his belly, caressing it over his shirt and lowering her hand to his pants. Eddie remained unfazed and that encouraged her to go much further. She touched his crotch over his pants, curious to know if human men were at all similar to fairies. Eddie whined still unconscious at the touch. For a moment she thought about walking away and going to see the tea, but he raised his hips slightly in search of more. She continued to feel him over the fabric, noticing how his member slowly hardened and Eddie seemed even more restless in his unconsciousness.

Little by little she lowered his pants and underwear, exposing his member to her. The fairy observed in shock what was in front of her: Eddie's member was hard and erect, dripping small beads of precum and contracting slightly as if asking for her attention. A heat invaded her, something almost fierce and uncontrollable that she couldn't explain. Is this what it felt like to be in love?

She brought one of hee hands to Eddie's member, squeezing it slightly and noticing how more liquid came out of its pink tip. She moved her hand up and down in a slow rhythm, experimenting and observing his reactions. Eddie's hips moved in response to that agonizing rhythm, almost begging for her to increase the pace and help him reach his climax. That's how she did it, with greater confidence and noticing that he was asking her for something but she didn't know what.

"Yes... Keep it up... my love..." were the words that came out of Eddie's mouth, who was slowly beginning to wake up. His muscles began to tense, announcing the arrival of his orgasm.

She continued her movements, encouraged by Eddie's husky voice. As if it were a bucket of water, Eddie opened his eyes and noticed his surroundings in fear. That wasn't his house and he didn't even have a girlfriend who treated him the way they were doing at that moment. He quickly got up from the bed, not caring about ruining his orgasm, and covered himself as best he could with her underwear.

She jumped out of bed when he woke up and almost ran to one of the corners of her small room, keeping her distance so as not to scare Eddie more. He, with his rapid breathing, looked at her carefully, noticing her shiny wings and her peculiar way of dressing. He looked around, everything was made with natural things and the occasional object from civilization.

"Where I am?" He asked agitatedly, looking at the girl, who only smiled kindly at him.

"In my home." she answered obviously. "You fell and became unconscious. I rescued you and brought you here." Eddie touched his head and noticed a small bandage made of leaves, as well as scratches on his arms that were clean. Inevitably his gaze dropped to his painful erection covered by his underwear. "I just want to help." she murmured almost pleadingly.

Eddie observed her in greater detail, admiring every element that made that girl, or creature, something hypnotic for him. Her head decorated with bird feathers, her dress was made of small leaves of multiple colors that hugged her curves well and left her thighs exposed. Her wings moved slightly, continuing to release small flashes of light.

The simple image of that unknown fairy who had rescued him, cured him and sought to keep him alive excited him enormously. In his daily life he had never received the attention of the girls around him, and that supernatural beauty showed appreciation for him, an ordinary man. Eddie relaxed and decided to give himself completely to her. In short, if she had wanted to kill him, she would have done it before.

"You want to help me?" He asked receiving a nod of her head in response. "Come closer, little fairy.." Eddie undid his underwear and his member was exposed again. She approached him slowly, dazzling him with her natural beauty. "Give me your hand.."

She obeyed without hesitation and extended her hand to him. Eddie grabbed it and admired for a few seconds how delicate and small it was compared to his own. Then, he spit into her palm, wetting her skin with his warm saliva. Attentive to every movement, Eddie guided her to his member and made her resume her movements. He closed his eyes at the pleasurable sensation and cursed under his breath, enjoying the sensation.

"I'm going to cum soon- can I fuck your thighs? Please, please.." He begged, opening his eyes, looking at her tenderly. She, noticing his desperation, nodded without stopping moving her hands on his hard member.

Eddie, without waiting any longer, grabbed her hips and brought her close to him. His large, swollen cock fit perfectly between her thighs, giving him a warm, soft welcome. Desperately, he moved his hips, fucking her thighs and wetting them with his saliva. When he lowered his gaze, he met her bright eyes who seemed to be in some kind of tranquility, stunned by his actions. From his height, Eddie had a good view of her breasts while he felt her nipples harden against his clothing.

Eddie's cock moved in and out, rubbing against her pussy and giving her a sensation of ecstasy she had never felt before. He looked into her eyes, connecting glances and losing himself from his reality, concentrating only on his pleasure. He carefully hug her even more, taking care not to hurt her fragile wings and flooding her with her floral aroma.

Soon, his orgasm reached him and he had no choice but to allow himself to be invaded by it. With a loud moan, Eddie came, staining the fairy's thighs and pussy with his thick, white semen. She, noticing his agitated breathing, hugged him, bringing him even closer if he came close to her, offering him a series of support until his ecstasy subsided.

When they separated, Eddie lifted his pants, sat on the bed and soon noticed the mess he had left on her. He carefully took his bandana and cleaned the fairy's skin, who looked at him almost pleased with his detail. Then, both of them locked eyes and he was the first to speak.

"Thank you, little one." He said almost embarrassed by what just happened.

"It doesn't matter!" She responded with a sweet smile, almost as if everything before had not bothered her. "I'm glad I helped you." She combed his hair with hee hands and suddenly her wings tensed, letting a bit of glitter fall to the dirt floor. "I just remembered that I made you some tea! I don't want you to leave without being completely healthy!" she spoke to him with care and then walked to the small fire she had made.

Eddie looked at her from his spot and smiled tenderly. Maybe going camping alone wasn't a bad idea after all.

[mika-mp3]

The treasure is all mine!

-chapter one-

(Prologe, chapter two)

Genshin Impact x Creator!Reader

warnings: no y/n used, slight yandere behavior, possible spelling errors and maybe a bit off to the Aranara Story (but I've read lots about it in the wiki so should be fine)

summary: Aramasu offers you to come to the Aranara Village, you agree and enjoy it at first but soon notice someting off

characters: Arana, Arama, you , Araja, (Aranara!OC:) Aramasu

word count: 1756

wattpad story here

(here are pictures of the Aranaras if it makes your reading experience better)

Nara = Human Vana = Forest

https://pin.it/6cQzybFhG

"Perhaps," Aramasu continues, its voice carrying a gentle, melodic resonance, "you are more than what you think you are. The forest knows you, and so do I."

You pause, considering Aramasu's words. "I don't remember anything from before. I don't even know my own name."

Aramasu looks thoughtful for a moment, its eyes reflecting a deep, ancient wisdom. "Names are important, but even without one, you are still you. You need a place to rest, to think. Come with me to Mahavanaranapna, where we live. You can stay until you find your name."

"Mahavana- what?" you ask, curiosity piqued. "What is that?"

"Mahavanaranapna is home. Located in Varana, Hidden from Nara eyes, safe and warm. It's our village, with houses made of leaves and branches. Beautiful lakes, giant trees, plants protecting us. It is invisible to all eyes that aren't supposed to find us, I'll take you there."

You nod, a deep sense of gratitude welling up inside you. "Thank you, Aramasu. I would like that."

With that, Aramasu begins to float ahead, guiding you deeper into the forest. The journey is enchanting; each step you take brings the forest more vividly to life. You pass by flowers that emit a soft, ethereal glow, their petals shimmering like tiny stars. Streams murmur happily as they weave through the underbrush, their clear waters reflecting the sunlight in a dance of liquid light. The trees seem to hum with an ancient, serene energy, their leaves whispering secrets to the wind.

As you walk, the scenery grows ever more vibrant. The trees tower majestically overhead, their thick, emerald leaves forming a lush canopy that filters the sunlight into beams of golden light, casting intricate, shifting patterns on the forest floor. The air is fresher here, imbued with the scent of blooming flowers, rich earth, and the faintest hint of wild herbs.

After what feels like a timeless journey, you arrive at a hidden entrance. A colossal tree, its trunk twisted and intertwined with thick vines, stands before you. As Aramasu approaches, the vines gracefully part, revealing a path that seems to beckon you forward into a secluded realm.

"This is Mahavanaranapna," Aramasu says with a hint of pride, its voice almost a song.

You step through the archway and are greeted by a breathtaking sight. The village is nestled around a vast, crystal-clear lake, its serene surface reflecting the towering trees and a kaleidoscope of colorful foliage. Quaint houses, crafted from natural materials and adorned with leaves and moss, blend seamlessly into the vibrant landscape. Giant trees with immense trunks stand sentinel around the village, their branches forming a protective canopy that feels both sheltering and sacred.

Aranaras of various shapes and sizes go about their daily activities, some tending to the verdant plants, others making music and playing by the lakeside. They glance curiously in your direction but their eyes hold no fear, only a gentle curiosity and warmth.

"I will talk to the others," Aramasu says. "You are welcome to stay, to rest. Maybe here, you will find answers."

You look around, taking in the serene beauty and harmony of Vanarana. Despite the uncertainty about your past and identity, a profound sense of hope and belonging fills your heart.

"Thank you, Aramasu. I think this is exactly what I need."

As you settle into the village, you feel a warm wave of acceptance from the Aranaras and the forest itself. This hidden sanctuary offers not just safety and rest, but a chance to discover who you truly are. The journey to uncover your past and your identity has just begun, and with the guidance of the Aranara and the magic of the forest, you feel ready to face whatever lies ahead.

Months have passed since that fateful day. You have spoken to many Aranaras, each with different interests, personalities, and stories. They are just like normal people. Normal people? What does that even mean anymore? You can't recall what normal is, but it doesn't matter now. You've made friends—very good friends—friends who stand by you and help you uncover the truth about yourself. At least thats what you think. Araja, the village chief, accepted your presence and has grown quite fond of you over time. He too sensed something special about you but never divulged further details.

Sadly, you still don't know your name. However, you did discover a particular dish that you enjoy. On days when frustration weighed heavily on you due to a lack of progress, Aramasu and the others would prepare that dish to lift your spirits. The name of the dish was difficult to pronounce, not being in your native language, but that never hindered your enjoyment.

Each day, you delved deeper into the community, learning and sharing moments that felt both new and strangely familiar. You participated in their daily activities, from tending to plants to joining in their joyous celebrations. The Aranaras' simple yet profound way of life became a source of comfort and inspiration. Despite the challenges and the ongoing mystery of your identity, you found solace in the bond you shared with your new friends. They taught you to find joy in the present, even as you searched for answers. And while the journey to uncover your past continued, the warmth and kindness of the Aranaras made the journey a little easier.

At least for a while.

It was a morning like any other. You woke up, greeted your friends, and enjoyed a simple breakfast before taking a walk. Arana, one of your closest friends, usually accompanied you, sharing stories along the way. Later, you listened to the Aranaras' delightful music, a cheerful and soothing melody that filled the air. Arama had taught you how to make flower crowns, so you often found yourself sitting in the grass, surrounded by your friends, weaving pretty flowers into delicate crowns. As the day passed, you felt a sense of contentment. By the time evening fell, you gathered for dinner, the warm glow of the setting sun casting long shadows across the village. After dinner, you retreated to one of the cozy houses to rest. Each day followed this familiar rhythm, a comforting routine of friendship and tranquility.

However, despite the lovely stories and enchanting music that changed each day, you felt a stirring within—a desire for something more. The villagers often warned, "Vana can be very dangerous!" You understood the forest held dangers, yet your curiosity and yearning to explore the unknown parts of this land remained strong. The beauty and peace of your daily life in Vanarana were undeniable, but the call of the mysterious forest beyond your safe haven was growing louder. You wanted to see more of Vana, to experience its wonders and challenges firsthand.

It didn't make you happy. Sure, it was a peaceful life, but besides the stories, you had learned nothing—nothing about yourself or this world. The lack of progress became increasingly frustrating. Whenever you mentioned the idea of leaving Vanarana, the Aranaras grew defensive, almost… hostile? Surely, that was just your imagination. They had been so kind before. Why would they want to keep you here against your will?

Yet, you couldn't shake the feeling. The longer you stayed, the more you felt trapped. Your longing gaze often drifted to the horizon, wishing you could soar through the sky like the birds, flying toward freedom. Every day, your desire to explore the unknown parts of Vana grew stronger, and the village's comforting embrace began to feel like a cage.

That's it. You are done.

Determined, you decided it was time to break free. The forest, with all its mysteries and dangers, called out to you. You needed answers, and you realized that staying in Vanarana wasn't going to provide them. The beauty of the village had lost its charm, replaced by an insistent need to discover your true self and the secrets this world held.

No more waiting. No more wondering. It was time to take your fate into your own hands.

Packing your bags with a few supplies, a blanket, and one last flower crown for memory, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. Sorrow, that describes your feelings pretty well. This village, with its serene beauty and gentle inhabitants, had been your home for months. Leaving it behind felt like leaving the part of yourself that you just found. Yet, despite the sadness, there was also a glimmer of excitement. The unknown world beyond Vanarana beckoned, filled with the promise of discovery and the hope of finding your true identity.

You took one last look around the small house that had been your shelter, your sanctuary. The familiar scent of the fresh forest air mingled with the earthy aroma of the village. Memories of laughter, shared meals, and quiet moments of reflection played in your mind. You gently placed the flower crown in your bag, its vibrant petals a poignant reminder of the friendships and bonds you had formed.

The Aranaras had been kind, but you couldn't ignore the defensive looks and wary glances whenever you mentioned leaving. It only fueled your determination. You needed to find out who you were, and you knew you wouldn't find those answers within the confines of the village.

As you slung the bag over your shoulder, a sense of resolve settled within you. Stepping outside, the village was quiet, bathed in the soft light of dawn. The giant trees cast long shadows, and the stillness was almost tangible. You took a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill your lungs, and began to walk.

Every step away from Vanarana felt like a step toward your destiny. The path ahead was unknown and undoubtedly fraught with challenges, but it also held the promise of adventure and self-discovery. With each stride, your sorrow was tempered by a growing curiosity and the thrill of what lay beyond.

You glanced back once, taking in the sight of the village one last time. The Aranaras were nowhere to be seen, but you knew they would understand, eventually. They had given you a place to belong when you had none, and for that, you were grateful.

Turning back to the path ahead, you embraced the uncertainty. Your journey was just beginning, and with the forest stretching out before you, the world was full of possibilities.

With a final look at Mahavanaranapna, you whispered a quiet farewell and stepped into the unknown, ready to uncover the mysteries of Vana and the secrets of your own past.

https://pin.it/5CQX3f1ed

Thank you so much for reading! Fell free to give me feedback and ideas how to continue this!

Mika

Taglist: - @wutap

[lulublack90]

Prompt 8 - Teenagers

@wolfstarmicrofic July 8, word count 868

Sirius flopped dramatically onto Remus’s bed. 

“Get off, Padfoot!” Remus grumbled, nudging him with his feet. He was too tired to outright shove him, but he was in no mood to deal with him. Everything ached. It had been a bad moon last night and all he wanted was to sleep. But the others didn’t know about his furry little secret, and he had to keep it that way. 

He had a few half-healed wounds on his back and chest and having Sirius bounce on his bed had definitely knocked the scabs loose on a few. “Can’t you go find Prongs or Wormtail and annoy them?” He sank back into his pillow, unable to hold himself up any more. 

“I’d rather annoy you,” Sirius grinned at him, flipping over so he was inches away from Remus. 

Remus reared back, his neck cracking angrily as his body protested at the sudden movement. “Hey, calm down, Moony,” Sirius reached out to him, but Remus didn’t want to be touched. 

“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!!” Remus screamed. He felt the magic leaving his body before he could do anything about it. 

Sirius flew from Remus’s bed and collided with the bedpost of Peter’s bed. “Sirius, Sirius, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…” Remus was crying as he dragged himself to Sirius’s side. “Sirius, I’m so sorry,” His hands flailed in front of him, not daring to touch Sirius until he said it was okay. 

“Hey, hey, shhhh, it’s okay Remus, see.” Sirius cradled Remus’s head in his hands, wiping his tears away with his thumbs. “I should have known better not to push you after a full moon, I just wanted to take your mind off it.” 

Remus froze, his eyes widening in horror when he realised what Sirius had just said. This was it then? It had finally happened, someone had figured it out. He supposed it had only been a matter of time before someone did. He’d have to pack his belongings and go back to that damp Welsh cottage where his Father couldn’t bear to look at him and his Mother didn’t understand. He’d be locked in that silver-lined bunker Lyall had dug in their garden, where he was chained to the floor and left until the morning. His mother cried every time Lyall brought him back into the kitchen and attempted to heal the claw marks that marred his skin. Well, Hogwarts was good while it lasted. He’d managed a year and a half at least. He wondered if they’d snap his wand. He thought he’d freak out when this happened, but he just felt sad. Sad that he’d be alone again and that he’d lose the friends he held so dear all over something he couldn’t even help. “Come on let’s get you back into bed, yeah,” Sirius said gently. Remus shook his head, snapping himself out of his tumultuous thoughts. 

“What do you mean? I need to start packing and owl my Dad to come get me.” He started to collect his books and parchment, tossing them into his open trunk. His legs wobbled, he needed to lie down. He bit back a sob when he thought about the long walk and all the stairs up to the owlery that he’d need to climb once he’d finished packing. 

Sirius crossed the room and slammed Remus’s trunk shut. 

“What in Merlin’s beard are you on about?!” Sirius asked, a bewildered expression on his face. 

“I’m leaving. Dumbledore said I can only stay as long as my secret is kept. You know, so it’s not a secret any more.” Remus explained, opening his trunk again. 

“No,” Sirius slammed the truck closed again. “It’s still a secret, I’m just in on it,” A crooked smile tugged at the side of his mouth. “That means you can stay.” He said determinedly. 

“You want me to stay? Sirius, I’m a werewolf, you can’t want me here,” The tears were back. Sirius wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly. Remus didn’t have the energy or the desire to make him let go. 

“I will always want you, Remus. You’re my best friend and I refuse to let them take you away from me.” He pulled his head back and looked into Remus’s watery eyes. “That and how cool is it to have a werewolf as a roommate?” 

Sirius started asking question after question about what it was like to be a werewolf. Where did he go each month? Who else knew? What did he do in the holidays? How long had he been a werewolf? He didn’t stop until James and Peter came looking for them, their hands piled high with sandwiches. 

“Aww, aren’t they cute,” James snickered when he saw Remus and Sirius sitting close to each other on Remus's bed, Sirius holding one of his hands. “We brought you lunch,” He told them as Remus snatched his hand back. “We know how ravenous you get after you transform,” James said matter-of-factly. Remus shook his head and got into bed. Nope, he thought, that is a problem for future Remus, as he let his exhausted body fall asleep, to the excited murmurings of his far, far too clever friends. 

[transvampireboyfriend]

this is the last update i had for this weekend. you can follow the tag #steddie lake fic if you wanna check for updates. thank you for reading <3

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

Eddie sets up one of the picnic tables, using Argyle's gingham tablecloth and arranging the hot dogs and sandwiches he and Nancy prepared.

They find a glass water dispenser inside their cabin and Eddie makes lemonade to fill it and dumps all of the ice they bought in their last stop with it. He places that on the table too.

A soon as everything is ready, Nancy grabs some food and drinks and joins Robin and Argyle in their cards game, a few tables over.

Eddie's now heading in the opposite direction to have a cigarette while he pretends he's not watching Steve haul very heavy suitcases from his car to their cabin.

The cabin belongs to Steve's family. Steve played nice with his parents for months so they would let them all stay over this week: at the tail of summer, right before Nancy, Argyle and Jonathan leave Hawkins again, and Steve, Robin and Eddie go back to their jobs. At least until Robin figures out where she wants to go to school and drags the boys along with her.

Steve's been researching schools and cities with her, he wants the best for his platonic soulmate. He's sweet. He's also dead set on having Eddie come with them and he can be very persuasive.

Not that he needs to be, Eddie thinks, watching Steve lean into his trunk for what might be the last time in a bit, considering how empty it looks from afar.

Steve's rolled the sleeves of his white tee all the way up to the top, letting his biceps flex freely. He's wearing the light wash jeans that make his ass look like it's begging to be grabbed. There's sweat dripping everywhere. He shakes it off and runs his hands through his hair every now and then, and Eddie's mouth is producing way too much saliva.

Eddie takes a long drag from his cigarette and turns his back on the borderline wet dream that is Steve Harrington, facing the lake again.

As he looks at the water and listens to the birds, Eddie goes through one and a half cigarettes, lost in thoughts of hazel eyes.

After a while, he hears steps approaching him from behind for the second time today.

This time, he turns before they reach him and sees Steve walking the las few paces until he's within earshot.

He's so sweaty.

"All done, big guy?" Eddie asks, a little breathless as he watches him approach.

Steve' face is all red, probably from the heat. He scoffs,

"You're like two inches taller than me" he says,

"Oh, you've noticed" Eddie teases with a lopsided grin,

"Shut up" Steve laughs "My hair makes up for it",

"Hmm" Eddie hums, refraining from making a comment on Steve's hair.

He pulls out his cigarette pack and offers it to Steve, assuming that's why he made a beeline for him and not the food.

"Want one?" Eddie asks,

Steve shakes his head "Yeah, but no" he says,

Eddie frowns, confused, holding his own cigarette with his mouth while he occupies his hands with putting the pack back in his pocket.

His eyes are also focused on this task, so he doesn't see Steve reaching out, taking the cigarette right out of Eddie's mouth.

Eddie feels his eyes go wide as plates and he slowly looks up to find Steve smoking his cigarette, looking out at the lake.

Holy shit.

Eddie blinks himself outta his shock. "Oh," he says, stupidly.

Steve looks back at him, searches for something in his eyes and smiles. The twinkle in his eyes only registers when Eddie watches him lean into his space once more, and take Eddie's bandana out of his back pocket this time, using it to wipe the sweat off his brow.

What?!

Eddie goes right past shock and into indignation.

"Hey!" he protests,

"Can I use this?" Steve asks around Eddie's cigarette, and way too late, too, "I'm using it" he states, in the bitchy tone he uses sometimes, the one that makes Eddie weak in the knees.

"I can see that!" Eddie tells him, trying to contain his indignant (going on giddy) laughter, "You're gross", Eddie says, like he wouldn't lick the sweat off Steve if he were allowed.

Steve just laughs at him, looking so beautiful, like right out of a magazine. Eddie lets himself hope for a split second.

"Did you just come here to take my stuff?" he asks Steve, mostly to stop himself from leaning in to bite the moles on his cheeks. He also kicks Steve's shin softly, just to make him laugh again. He succeeds.

"Maybe", Steve says, blowing smoke to the side and then offering the cigarette back to Eddie, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

What. Is happening.

Eddie rolls his eyes but accepts the offer.

"Yuck." he says dramatically, keeping his eyes on Steve, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and failing miserably at hiding his smile.

Steve watches him do it and laughs, something mischievous and delighted, then begins rolling Eddie's bandana, supporting the motion on his thigh and then reaching up to tie the result around his head.

God. What the fuck.

"You're stealing from me now?", Eddie accuses, shocked.

Steve snorts, "Borrowing", he clarifies, "I'll clean it and give it back to you", he says, like he's proud of it.

Is he fucking flirting with me?

Eddie rolls his eyes again and tries to hide his shocked smile once more. Fails.

"Or would you rather I give it to you all sweaty like this?" Steve asks, somehow sounding both dirty and completely rhetorical.

Jesus fucking -

"Ha!" Eddie says, shoving Steve's shoulder. "You have to get permission to borrow something, Steve",

"I did! I just did!" Steve protests,

"Did I say yes?" Eddie counters,

Steve pulls out his puppy eyes, the bastard, aiming them at Eddie with full force.

"Can I please use your bandana, Eddie?" Steve asks "Eds?" he adds, switching to a nickname almost as an afterthought.

Eddie's going to die of a heart attack, one of these days.

In fact, he probably already did. Yeah, he died and went to heaven, it seems.

"I can't stand you." he tells Steve, squinting.

It makes Steve dissolve into laughter again and Eddie basks in the sound as he stubs his cigarette.

"Yeah, you can use it", Eddie finally gives in, "since you already are, you menace. Come on.", he invites, already walking back toward the food table, leaving Steve behind, trying to regain some of the balance in their interaction,

"I made lemonade" he calls back to Steve, and listens as the other boy catches up.

When Steve's at his side again, Eddie turns to look at him.

"Let's get you something that's actually for you, for a change" Eddie quips.

Steve throws his head back as he laughs.

part 5

[dianawinchester03]

Season 2, Episode 6 - No Exit

Series Masterlist

(Authors Note: Yes I made the picture Dean’s hand purposefully because it turns me on. DEAL WITH IT LOL)

_______________________________________________

Y/N’s POV

We were all getting ready to leave the Roadhouse. Dean and Sam were by the trunk while I'm leant up against the side of the Impala, smoking a cigarette. "Los Angeles, California" Dean says to us as he closes Baby's trunk. "What's in LA?" Sam asks, walking next to me. "Young girls been kidnapped by an evil cult." Dean informs us with a serious tone. "Yeah?" Sam questions.

"Girl got a name?" Sam asks him as I lean off the impala, taking a drag before blowing it out the corner of my lips. "Katie Holmes" Dean responds with a smirk, jingling his keys to open the car door. His snark earns chuckles from both me and Sam, "That's funny" I admit laughing, flicking my cigarette on the ground before crushing it with my boot. "And for you, so bitchy" I add with sass, making Sam bust out in laughter.

A crashing of metal in the roadhouse draws our attention, our gazes snapped over to the door with raised eyebrows upon the sounds of Ellen and Jo yelling and cursing at each other. "Whereas on the other hand, catfight" Dean quips back, we all share a slightly amused look before walking towards the bar. "I am your mother! I don't have to be reasonable!" We hear Ellen's voice boom through the empty bar as we open the door.

"You can't keep me here!" Jo screams back. "Oh don't you bet on that, sweetie!" Ellen growls back, fixing a chair in the bar to open up. Damn, this sounds way too familiar. "What are you gonna do?! You gonna chain me up in the basement?!" Jo snarls back. The boys and I take in the argument as we walk in, "You know what, you've had worse ideas than that recently!" Ellen shouts back, getting in Jos face.

She flinched a bit before Ellen moves past her. "Hey, you don't wanna stay? Don't stay! Go back to school!" Ellen quips back. Jos face contorts in disgust, "I didn't belong there! I was a freak with a fucking knife collection!" She shouts back defensively. "Yeah, but getting yourself killed on some dusty backroad, that's where you belong?!" Ellen retorts back with sarcasm. Jos face drops when she notices the boys and I standing behind her mom.

Ellen turns to us, awkward smiles plastered on all our faces, our hands stuffed in our jacket pockets, "Guys, bad time" Ellen spits, trying to subside her anger. We all nods understandably, "Yes, ma'am" I nod firmly, "Sorry ma'am" Sam says at the same time as me. "Yeah, we rarely drink before 10 anyways" Dean chuckles nervous before we all turn to leave but Jo stops us.

"Wait, I wanna know what they think about this" Jo walks to us, the door squeaks and a family of four enters. Two kids and two parents, wearing T-Shirts with 'Nebraska is for Lovers' printed on them. "I don't care what they think!" Ellen shoots back. "Are you guys open?" The patriarch of the group asks awkwardly. "No!" "Yes!" Jo and Ellen yell angrily at the same time, scaring the shit out of the innocent family.

They all shift in their feet nervously, sharing a look of fear. The boys and I flash them apologetic looks, "We'll just check the Arby's down the road" The father says fearfully ushering his wife and kids out the door. We turn back to the angry and quarreling mother and daughter. As if on cue, the Roadhouse landline begins to ring.

Jo turns to her mother, still annoyed. They both share angry gazes before Ellen stomps towards the landline on the wall, answering it, "Harvelle's...Yeah, preacher" Ellen answers before Jo turns to us, a file in her hands. "Three weeks ago, a young girl disappears from a Philadelphia apartment." She begins to explain, handing me the file.

I look down at it, not taking it, "Take it, it won't bite" She says sarcastically. "No, but your mom might" I quipped back in a low tone. She rolls eyes before shoving it towards me again. I huff in response, giving her a unimpressed look snatching before the file from her. "This girl wasn't the first. Over the past 80 years, six women have vanished. All from the same building, all young blondes" She explains as I flip through the research in the file.

By the looks of it, it was well in depth. Not only was it thorough, it was well organized. Dean leaned over my shoulder to take a look, "Only happens every decade or two, so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either looking for one very old serial killer or-" Jo further explains but Dean cuts her off, "Who put this together? Ash?" Dean asks curiously. "I did it myself" Jo responds with a small smile.

My eyebrows raises as I give her a look of impress, my eyes flicker over to the boys who look equally as shocked and impressed, "Damn girl, this is really organized, props" I chuckle with a compliment, balling up my fist to give her a bump. She smirks back proudly, returning my fist bump. "Thanks" She giggles. "I gotta admit, we hit the road for a lot less" Sam says honestly.

"Good. You like the case so much, you take it" Ellen butts in, done with her phone call. Jo's smile drops, "Mom!" Jo exclaims. "Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough. I won't lose you too" Ellen cuts in firmly, tears welling up in her eyes. My heart pangs for Ellen, she didn't want her daughter hunting alone because she didn't want her to get hurt. Not because she wanted to control her, but because she loves her.

The boys and I share sad looks, "I just won't" Ellen adds tearfully. Jo sighs in defeat, nodding but something told me she wasn't gonna give up that easily. For someone who tracked a pattern like this, I'm getting the vibe she won't let this case go easily.

________________________________

Somewhere in Philadelphia

The boys and I finally made it to the apartment in Philly, Sam picked the lock and the second he opened that door, it was like a wave of unpleasant energy lashed over me. A sick feeling churned in my stomach as Sam powered up the EMF meter. "I feel kind of bad snaking Jo's case." Sam admits as Dean closes the door while a chill crawled up my neck.

"Yeah, me too" I sigh. "Well, she did put together a good file, but can you see her out here working one of these things?" Dean scoffs. This catches my attention, "What's that supposed to mean?" I huff. His eyes snap over to me, "I'm just saying, she's clearly inexperienced" Dean defends. "Yeah, and so were we. Or is it because of the fact that she's a woman?" I counter, resting my hands on my hips.

I hear Sam awkwardly clear his throat behind me, Dean looks over to his brother with a face that says 'Help me out here' but Sam shakes his head, "I ain't touching that line with a 10 foot pole" Sam snorts. "It's just different with you, princess" Dean tries to reason. I snort at this, "Oh don't hit me that bullshit. I think she has potential, that's all. With proper training, she could be good if she did all of that with just research" I defend.

"You haven't even seen her in action yet" Dean rolls his eyes. "I just have a feeling okay" I huff. Dean sighs in defeat as he powers on his EMF meter, "You guys getting anything?" He asks me and Sam, "No, not yet" Sam answers, scanning one side of the room. I felt the chill grow more intense when I turnt to the fridge behind me. "Yeah, I think it's a spirit" I answer.

"How're you so sure?" Dean asks. I point to the back of my neck, indicating I'm getting chills. Deans mouth formed in an 'o' shape in realization. I narrowed my eyes at the handle on the door, a black gooey liquid oozing out of it. "What's that?" I muttered, "What?" Dean and Sam said in unison, walking over to me. That still startles me to this day.

Brothers.

I touched the liquid, I instantly recognized it when I felt it. Ectoplasm. "Holy fuck" I whisper in shock. Sam and Dean then touched the ectoplasm and recognized it instantly. "That's ectoplasm" Dean points out. "Well, sweetheart, I guess you were wrong. It's not a spirit..." Dean whispers to me. Sam and I cock our eyebrows at him, confused because the only thing that can cause ectoplasm is a pissed off spirit.

"It's the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man" Dean jokes, earning eyerolls from us. "Dean, I've only seen this stuff, like, twice." Sam ignores his sarcastic response, going back to the case. "I mean, to make this stuff, you have to be one majorly pissed-off spirit" I point out in agreement. "Alright, let's find this badass before he snags any more girls" Dean says smugly.

-

Now walking down the hall out of the apartment, we hear a woman and a man talking. "It's so convenient" The woman says sweetly. The boys and I share a panicked look before backing up into a corner, pressing our backs against the wall to conceal ourselves. "Yeah. It's a great building, fixed it up real nice. Apartments come furnished too." The man responds. The woman's voice sounded familiar....way too familiar.

"It is so spacious. You know, my friend y/n told me that i absolutely had to come check it out" My eyebrows shot ti the sky when the woman said my name and it could only be one explanation. Jo. The boys and I share a look as the voices move closer. "And I have to admit she was right. You did a really good job with this place" Jo tells the man as she bends the corner.

We pry ourselves from the corner, "What the hell are you doing here?" Dean asks her in shock. "There you are, honey" Jo smirks, grabbing Dean by his arm. My chest begins to flare when she does this, my jaw clenching. I notice Dean gulp when she does this, his eyes flickering over to me. "This is my boyfriend, Dean. My friend Y/N, the one I was telling you about. And her boyfriend, Sam" Jo introduces us.

I cock my eyebrows further at this, before wrapping my arm around Sam and faking a smile. Sam did the same, wrapping his casted arm around my waist. "Good to meet you. Quite a gal you got here" The man reaches out to shake Deans hand as Jo smiles widely. Dean smiles tightly, accepting his hand. "Oh, yeah, she's a pistol" Dean fakes a chuckle, slapping Jo on her ass a bit harshly.

"And she's talked so much about you" The man reached over to shake my hand and then Sam's, "Well, how sweet" I smile, looking over at Jo giving her a look that says 'You slimy little...', before turning to Sam. "She's just a riot, isn't she honey?" I chuckle. Sam feigns a laugh like me, his hand traveling down to the small of my back. "Most certainly, babe" Sam smiles tightly,

He gripped my waist, pulling me in closer to him, the both of us faking an affectionate stare. I notice Dean narrow his eyes at both of us. His jaw clenching tightly like mine did earlier, his eyes trailed to Sam's hand on my back, nearing my ass and back up to us. "So, did you already check out the apartment?" Jo asks us. We don't answer because of her slip of tongue, a bit of panicking settling in.

Jo, I was just defending you earlier, you're making it a bit hard right now honey.

"The one for rent" She adds with a smile. "You bet. Yes. Loved it. Great flow." Dean chuckles. "How'd you get in?" The man asks confused. "It was open" I say quickly but the man still looked confused. "Now, Ed, um. When did the last tenant move out?" Jo asks. "Uh, about a month ago. Cut and run too. Stuffed me for the rent" Ed, the building manager, explains slightly annoyed. "Well, her loss, our gain" Jo smiles widely.

"Because if Deano loves it, it's good enough for me" She giggles. Deano? Really? I internally rolled my eyes. "Oh, sweetie" Dean grits his teeth, masking his clear anger and discomfort before slapping her ass again. "We'll take it" Jo feigns a smile before handing the manager a wad of cash. Our eyes widen, I couldn't help but be impressed as the man graciously accepts the money. "Oh...okay." The man smiles widely.

As the man walks away I feel Sam's casted arm drop directly in my ass and I don't think he noticed because knowing him, he'd groan in disgust by now. "Get your hand off my ass, Samuel!" I spit through gritted teeth. Sam is startled, "Oh, fuck. Sorry" He apologizes quickly, grinning sheepishly as Dean glares at him.

Why the fuck he he glaring?

________________________________

We were back in the apartment, Dean was cleaning his gun and Sam was by the dining room table cleaning his own gun. "I'll flip you for the sofa" Jo says to me as I was cleaning my gun next to Dean. "Oh no no no. 1. You're sharing with Sam. The bastard punches in his sleep." I begin snarkily, cocking my gun. "I do not!" Sam defends, I wave him off as Jo rolls her eyes at my snark.

"And 2. Does your mother even know you're here?" I stand up, getting to eye level with her, resting my hands on my hips. "Told her I was going to Vegas" Jo shrugs. "You think she's gonna but that?" Dean scoffs. "I'm not an idiots. I got Ash to lay a credit card trail straight all the way to the casinos" Jo smirks, I cross my arms over my chest. "And Ash did that pro-bono?" I ask her. "Nope, only cost me your phone number" Jo's smirk widens.

"You didn't" My jaw drops along with Deans as Sam snickers in the background. "I did" Jo laughs. I roll my eyes at this, clearly annoyed. "You know, you shouldn't lie to your mom. You shouldn't be here either" Dean says annoyed, reloading and cocking his gun. She looks over to me and Sam a bit sad, "Well, I am. So untwist your boxers and panties and deal with it" She snarks back as me and Dean glare at her.

Now I know what you're saying, 'You were all gung ho for her learning to hunt earlier'. And I still am, I believe Jo is intelligent and has potential. But not when it involves pissing off Ellen, that woman scares me.

"Where did you get all that money from, anyways?" Sam asks curiously. "Working at the Roadhouse" Jo responds as if it's obvious. "Hunters don't tip that well" Dean scoffs. "Well, they aren't that good at poker either" Jo retorts back cockily, I snort at this. Shaking my head, "Respect" I put my fist out for her the bump, she smirks widely. Returning the fistbump. "Thanks" She smiles.

Sam's phones rings. He stands up and he fishes it out of his pocket, pressing it to his ear. "Yeah?" Sam answers as Jo goes through her duffle bag. Sam pauses for a bit before gulping, "Oh, hi Ellen" He says causally, glaring at Jo. Dean and I begin to internally panic as Jo walks closer to Sam. I propped myself on the dining table Sam was at, crossing arms over my chest. Taking in the interaction.

"Don't tell her" Jo whispers to him warningly, pointing a finger at him. "I'm telling her" Sam grits his teeth back, pressing the mic to his shirt so Ellen can't hear. "I'm gonna kill you!" Jo growls lowly. "You're not even supposed to be here!" Sam retorts lowly. The two get into a muttered argument before Sam caves and quickly says, "I haven't seen her" to Ellen.

"...yeah, I'm sure" Sam responds to Ellen, "Absolutely" Sam finishes before hanging up still glaring at Jo who gives him a cute wide cheeky thankful smile. Sam rolls his eyes in annoyance, scoffing a bit but I managed to catch the little blush on his cheeks.

________________________________

Third Person POV

Currently nose deep into research, Sam, Jo and Y/N were sat at the dining table. A map spread out of the building infront of them, Jo was flicking and playing with her knife while Dean paces the room, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "This place was built in 1924. It was originally a warehouse converted into apartments a few months ago" Jo explains the buildings history.

"Yeah, and what was here before 1924?" Dean asks. "Nothing. Empty field" Jo responds. "So most likely scenario..." Y/N begins, taking a drag from her cigarette. "...someone died Bloody in the building and now he's back and raising hell" She finishes, dusting the ash into an ashtray. "Yep" Sam nods in agreement, resting his paper down. "Already checked. In the past 82 years, zero violent deaths. Unless you count a janitor who slipped in a wet floor" Jo informs them.

Y/N's eyes flicker over to Dean who was still pacing the room, "Would you sit down please? Your pacing is making me dizzy" She huffs, a smirk rises on Deans face. He obliges, settling in the chair next to her before pulling it closer to y/n, he rests his hand behind her, propping it on the back of her chair. He then gestures for her to pass him the cigarette. She looks at him a bit surprised because, just like Sam. He usually only smokes when drunk or stressed.

Y/N passes him the bud, he takes it between his fingers and pulls from it. Allowing the nicotine and tobacco to course through his lungs, feeling a tad bit more relaxed. "So, have you checked police reports, county death records?" Dean begins to question her but Jo cuts him off. "Obituaries, mortuary reports and seven other sources. I know what I'm doing" Jo snaps back.

"Think the jury's still out in that one" Dean winks at her sassily. Y/N shakes her head, holding back a laugh at his sass along with Sam. Jo continues to twirl her knife in her between her fingers as Dean passes y/n back the bud, "Could you put the knife down? I feel like you're gonna take my eye out" She jokes with Jo.

Jo snorts, shaking her head but rests the knife down. "Okay, so, uh, it's something else, then" Sam begins. "Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought a spirit with it?" Y/N suggests, blowing the smoke out from the corner of her mouth. She passes the almost finished back to Dean. "We gotta scan the whole building, everywhere we can get to right?" Jo asks. "Right" Dean cuts in, crushing the finished bud in the tray as he exhaled the smoke through his nose.

"So, me and y/n will take the top two floors and you and Sam can take the rest" Dean instructs, getting up from the table. "We'd move fast if we split up" Jo counters. "Well, this isn't negotiable" Dean retorts. Jo rolls her eyes, but decided to oblige.

-

Dean and Y/N were canvassing the top two floors. Dean with his EMF meter in his hands, scanning the walls as they walk down the hall. "So, you gonna buy her dinner?" Y/N quips up, a bit of bitterness in her tone. Dean cocks his eyebrow, "What are you talking about?" He asks her confused. "Well, it's just if you're gonna smack the poor girls ass that much, it's only decent if you buy her dinner" She shrugs nonchalantly, trying to hide her jealous.

A smirk grows on Deans face, going back to when his brothers hand was on y/n's ass, "Oh, that's hilarious" He snaps back bitterly. "So, is Sam gonna buy you dinner? Seeing as he was so grabby with yours" He quips back in a clearly jealous tone, y/n's eyes snap over to Dean in disgust. "Dude, gross!" She groans, shoving him by his arm, earning a laugh from Dean as he stumbles.

"He didn't realize okay, that stupid cast in his hand is why. That's like going out with my brother" She defends, shivering in disgust at the thought as Dean howls with laughter. "Relax, Princess. I'm just kidding" He chuckles. "Not to be a gossip. But did you notice the way he blushed after he lied to Ellen when Jo gave him that smile?" Y/N gasped with a smile, looking over at Dean.

Dean snickers, nodding as he added to the gossip, "It was hilarious. Sammys got a crush" Dean agrees, laughing. "Too bad she's into the other brother" Y/N teased, trying to hide her bitter tone. "Yeah, right. She's a little too young for me, no thanks" Dean shakes his head. "Didn't seem so the way y'all were flirting back at the roadhouse" Y/N retorted with an eyeroll. Dean cocked his eyebrow at this.

"So you can flirt with her but I can't?" Dean countered with a smirk. Y/N's mouth snaps shut at this, "Touche, Winchester. Touché" She chuckled in defeat as Dean flashes her a victorious grin. "I still can't believe Jo ran. It's bad enough Sam lied to Ellen..." Dean shakes his head in disappointment. "I don't even think she's noticed she's the spirits type" Dean scoffs. "I'm pretty sure she has" Y/N responds.

"You think she wants to be bait?" Dean questions. "I wouldn't be surprised, if I were it's type, I'd jump at the case cuz it's the quickest way to draw it out, and you know it" Y/N shrugs as they walk down the hall. Dean chuckles ironically, annoyed at this. Walking past her, "What?" Y/N scoffs when she hears his tone. "I'm so regretting this" Dean mutters. "You know, I've had it up to here with your crap" Y/N snaps fed up.

Dean turns to her, surprised by her outburst, "Excuse me?" He scoffs. "Your chauvinist crap. You think women can't do the job" Y/N calls him out on his clear hypocrisy. "Baby, this ain't Gender Studies" He retorts cockily. "Women can do the job fine. I know you can, we've hunted together since diapers. Amateurs can't. Jo's got no experience" Dean repeats his words from earlier, earning an eye-roll from y/n.

"What she does have is a bunch of half baked romantic notions from that some barflies put in her head" Dean retorts. "Look. Dean, I get it. Dad and John started us in this so young, I wish we could do something else" She admits, Dean sighs, nodding in agreement. "You act like you love the job, but I know you don't" Y/N calls him out on the fact. "And how're you so sure?" Dean crosses his arms over his chest.

"Because you're twisted. We're all twisted" She chuckles dryly, earning one from Dean. "If I'm being honest, I'm kinda envious of the fact that Jo has a mother who worries and cares about her, who wants something more for her. And those are good things. Hell, I wouldn't throw it away if I were her. But if she wants to hunt, it's better she has people who can protect her" Y/N defends.

Dean is taken back by her concern for Jo, now realizing what this is all about. "You see yourself in her, don't you?" He calls her out on her relation to Jo. Y/N sighs, "Yeah, I do. And that's what scares me." She admits. "You and your soft heart will be the death of you" Dean smirks. Y/N huffs before smacking Dean in his arm, Dean chuckles as he clutches his arm. "Enough of this chick flick, let's go" She snorts, grabbing his arm to pull him down the hall.

-

A little later, they approach the end of the hall, y/n felt the chill rise in her neck again, she looked up to the ceiling into to see nothing. The spirit was stalking from an air vent below her, it began to protrude its ectoplasm coated arm. Causing y/n to jump fearfully when the chill grew stronger, flinching back, only to see the vent was clear.

"What?" Dean asks her concerned. "I'm not sure" Y/N gasps. Dean moves closer to her, taking a whiff of the air. "You smell that?" He asks her. "Yeah, what is that? It smells so familiar. A gas leak?" Y/N suggests. "No, something else.... I know it" Dean shakes his head. Y/N then crouches down to the vent, placing her hand on it. She gasps when the chill runs through her arm and down her body.

"Gimme your EMF meter" She gestures for Dean to hand her the meter. Dean passes it to her and it immediately lights up red when she places it over where she had her hand. She looks up at Dean with a smug smirk, "I swear, with you around. We don't need these things" Dean chuckles as Y/N hands him back the EMF meter. "It's inside the vent" Y/N points out, taking out her mini flashlight from her combat boots.

She powers it on and shines it inside but it seems to be empty. Dean reaches into his jacket and pulls out a screwdriver, he then begins to unscrew the bolts holding the vent cover into place before taking it out. Y/N then gets a little lower to get a better look, flashing the light inside the vent. She hands Dean back the flashlight when she spots something,

"Theres something in there, here" She tells him, she then reaches her arm into the vent as Dean rests his chin on her shoulder, shining the light for her inside. His firm chest pressed against her back, both their heart paces quickens as Deans hot breath fans her ear, she clears her throat. Trying to reach it, Dean knew exactly what he was doing and he was relishing in finding anyway to touch her.

Whether it be innocently or not, "Jackpot" Y/N groans when her hand lands on the fuzzy piece of hair. She pulls it out to reveal a clump of blonde hair with a piece of rotting human scalp attached to it. She groans in disgust along with Dean, "Somebody's keeping souvenirs" Dean says grimly as Y/N gags, pretending to throw it on to Dean. "Gross!" Dean exclaims, flinching as y/n laughs hysterically.

________________________________

The next morning, Y/N was fast asleep on the sofa in quite an awkward position. One hand behind her back and one hand below her stomach as she laid belly first, snoring ever so lightly. Sam and Dean had gone out for breakfast and coffee while Jo sat at the dining room table, playing with her knife. Y/N stirred in her sleep, beads of sweat running down her neck as she dreamed.

"Dean" Sam and Y/N sighed in relief, clutching their shoulders. Dean's heart dropped when he noticed a person behind his brother. "SAM LOOK OUT!" Dean shouts warningly when the person approached behind Sam and Y/N, wielding a knife.

Sam didn't have a chance to respond before he was stabbed in the back by a faceless person. Dean ran towards his brother in the field, "NOOOOOOO!!!" Dean screams painfully.

The person twisted the knife buried in his spinal cord before Sam fell to his knees, his face contorted with agony.

Y/N groans as she began to wake up, a pounding in her head. The sounds of police sirens waking her out of the horrid nightmare. Her eyes shoot open wide in terror. It was just a dream....right? But why would she dream about Sam dying? Gosh, their lives are so messed up she's dreaming about her best friend dying.

"Morning Princess" Jo quips up from the dining table, y/n's gaze narrows in Jo's direction. "Don't call me that" Y/N spits. "Jeez, sorry" Jo chuckles, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "Where's Sam and Dean?" Y/N grunts, holding her head. Her mind stuck on that dream...at least she hoped it was a dream. "Went to get coffee" Jo responds, flicking her knife in her hand.

Y/N groans as she peels herself from the couch, a stricking pain coursing down her spine from the old couch. "My back" Y/N groans, getting up from the couch. "How'd you sleep on that big, soft bed?" Y/N mutters to Jo, limping as she held her back. "I didn't. I've just been going over everything" Jo mutters back, her eyes studying the research spread on the table.

"Why this case, Jo?" Y/N asks her knowingly. "What do you mean?" Jo responds, feigning confusion. Y/N crosses her arms over her chest before giving Jo a look that says, 'Bull-fucking-shit'. "You're the spirits type. I know you're not stupid. You wanna be bait, don't you?" Y/N says matter of factly as Jo looks down guilty. "Look, Y/N. You can say what you want. It's the only way to draw him out. "It's a bad idea, Jo" Y/N groans.

Jo doesn't answer as Y/N cocks her eyebrow before picking up her duffel bag, her eyes trained on Jo's flicking of her knife. She digs inside before pulling out one of her favorite knives, a bit bigger than Jo's but a hell of a lot sharper. She detaches the covering from it, flipping it in her hand so the blade is in her grip and with a smile, she hands it to Jo, "What's this for?" Jo asks confused.

"It'll work a lot better than that little pig-stickler you're twirling" Y/N winks at her sassily. Jo fell silent, handing y/n her knife, a sad look on her face. Y/N's heart drops when she sees an engraving on it with 'W.A.H'. She glances back over at Jo to see a somber look on her face, "William Anthony Harvelle" Jo says sadly. Y/N felt guilty now, understanding why Jo kept twirling her fathers knife in her hand.

She could sorta relate, she always had her fathers machete from that vamp hunt tucked away in her leather jacket. Whether they were on a ghost hunt or monster. She kept it on her person as a homage to her father. "I'm sorry hun. My mistake" Y/N apologizes sincerely to Jo, handing her back her knife. She takes it back, returning y/n's large knife to her.

Jo sighs, sorrow drenched in her face. "What do you-?" Jo goes to ask, taking a deep breath. "What do you remember about your dad. I mean, what's the first thing that pops into your head" She asks curiously. Y/N freezes at the question, not sure how to answer. Her gaze was trained on her knife. "Come on. Tell me. It's only us girls here" Jo presses, adding a little laugh to the end.

Y/N couldn't help but chuckle at the 'It's only us girls here' comment. Growing up around men, she didn't have much female friends due to moving state to state for every hunt. Though she wish she did, I mean, Dean was the one who had to rush to get pads for her the first time she had her period because F/N and John had disappeared for a month and left them at Bobby's. Everything she knew came from crappy school health class.

Y/N sighs, settling in a seat by the table across from Jo. "I was about 6. And uh, he took me and Sam shooting for the first time with John and Dean. You know? Bottles on the fence, that kind of thing. John had taken Dean when he was around that age too." She begins to explain, opening up to Jo. She smirked a bit at the memory. "I bulls-eyed every one of them" She said with a bit of pride.

Jo smiled a bit, "He gave me this smile, like...." Y/N sighs, her mind tracing back to her childhood. "I don't know." She shakes her head. "He must've been proud" Jo assures her gently. "But the best part was when Dean yelled, 'Way to go, Princess!' And ran up to me, he picked me up in the biggest bear hug any 10 year old could give and spun me around" Y/N smiles, her heart skipping a beat.

Jo noticed the lovestruck look on y/n's face when she talked about Dean. Jo may have a tiny crush on Dean but she was mature enough to understand that when two people are clearly in-love, you don't get in the way of that. In other words, she's a girls girl. She could only wish she would find something like that one day. In all honesty, Sam caught her eye this round and she wouldn’t mind climbing that tree.

"He must've been proud of you too" Jo smiles suggestively at Y/N. A blush takes over her face, "Yeah, I think he was..." Y/N sighs, shaking her head. "What about you dad?" Y/N asks, clearing her throat. "I was still in pigtails when my dad died" Jo begins sadly, "But I remember him coming home from a hunt. He'd burst through that door like Steve McQueen or something." Jo smiles lightly at the memory.

"And he'd sweep me up on his arms and I'd breathe in that old leather jacket of his. And my mom, who was sour and pissed from the minute he left, she started smiling again" Jo chuckles reminiscing, earning a small smile from Y/N. "And we were-...we were a family" Jo finishes, gloom in her tone. "I know you guys think I'm nuts for choosing to hunt, but you wanna know why I do?" Jo says to her.

Y/N nods for her to continue, "For him" Jo says firmly, this touches Y/N. Now understanding Jo a little more. A sense of relation at that. "It's my way of being close to him. Now tell me, what's wrong with that?" Jo asks ironically. "Nothing" Y/N says softly, a sense of recognition in her voice.

Jo sighed, the two remained silent as they shared a look. Feeling a bit more connected to each other, as friends that is. The door swung open and in came the boys. "Where's the coffee, fellas?" Y/N asks them. The boys realized from the tension in the room that the two girls were having a heart to heart. "There's cops outside. Another girl disappeared" Sam informs them.

________________________________

A little later. Sam and Jo were at the dining table while Dean went to find out about the girl who disappeared. Meanwhile Y/N was leant against the kitchen sink, sipping on a beer, her mind still on the dream she had earlier. Considering all the death visions she and Sam had, it had her worried. Since they shared the visions and Sam hadn't brought up anything yet about having a vision yet, she wanted to assume that maybe it's just a bad dream.

Maybe I'm just being paranoid.

Sure Y/N, because every time you say you're pArAnOiD, some shit always ends up happening.

It could be just a dream.

Yeah, not like you have been having death visions with Sammy boy for the past year.

Shut up inner voice!

Sam realized Y/N was deep in thought when he saw her eyebrows scrunched together whilst clutching her second beer in her hand. He decided to approach her, leaving Jo in the dining room. "You okay, y/n/n?" He asks his best friend concerned, his voice snapping her out of her train of thought. "Yeah...I'm fine" She clears her throat, resting her beer down in the counter.

Sam cocked his eyebrow at her, not convinced. He have her a knowing look, resulting in her sighing guiltily. "It's just-" She begins, crossing her arms over her chest. "Did you have any visions today??" She asks warily. Sam lightly frowns before shaking his head, "No, I haven't. Why? Have you???" He asks. "It wasn't exactly the death visions we have. It was more a death dream, like what we used to get" Y/N explains.

Sam nods, listening. Leaning against the island across from her, crossing his arms over his chest. "Okay, and what happened in it??" Sam asks. Y/N hesitates for a second, "You died" She blurted out. Sam's eyebrows shot to the sky, "You were stabbed in your back by someone, I couldn't even see the persons face. I could barely see where we were. I remember hearing Dean scream. The entire thing was blurry, like if I needed glasses to see properly." She further explains.

"But it doesn't make sense right? Because our visions are connected so it wouldn't make sense. Because you would've had it too" Y/N asks for reassurance. Sam nods, "Yeah, I guess you're right. Honestly, y/n. We've all been through a lot, so it wouldn't be a long shot if the stress of the hunt is making you worry." Sam assures her gently. She sighs, "You're right. Thanks Sammy" She gives him a small smile.

Leaning over to give her best friend a hug, Sam chuckled, "Anytime, y/n/n" He smiled, ruffling her hair when they pulled away. She snorted, slapping his hand away. Earning a laugh from Sam. His mind strayed to earlier when Jo introduced them as a couple to the building manager, "Honey?" He says in a questioning tone, snorting in disgust. His face contorted in a cringe. Reminding her of when she called him honey.

"Babe?" She snorted back in disgust, mimicking his expression. "I thought I was gonna lose my hand with the way Dean was looking at me, like he wanted to chop it off" Sam says suggestively, waving his casted arm. Jo's ears quirked up at this, "Yeah, me too. We should've just given them the bed last night" Jo quips up from the dining room teasingly whilst flicking her knife in her hand, wiggling her eyebrows at Y/N.

Y/N's heart quickens but she covered it up with an eyeroll, denying the fact. "I hate both of you" She groans, covering her face as she blushes while Sam and Jo snicker like children. The door swings open and in walks Dean, "Theresa Ellis, apartment 2F. Her boyfriend reported her missing around dawn" Dean informs them as he walks in, locking the door behind him. The aura changed in the room from light to serious.

Jo puts down her knife before asking him, "And her apartment?" She asks. "Cracks all over the plaster, walls, ceiling. There was ectoplasm too" Dean tells her as he peels his jacket off, Sam and Y/N both take seats at the dining table, "Between that and that hair, I'd say this suckers coming from the walls" Sam suggests, standing up. "Yeah, but who is it? Buildings history is totally clean" Dean questions, stumped.

Jo's eyes land on an old picture printed out on the table with clutter of research, "Maybe we're looking in the wrong place" She mutters, picking the picture up. "What do you mean?" Y/N asks curiously. "Check this out" Jo then hands her the picture of an old empty field, in place where the building was. The boys peer over Y/N's shoulder to take a look at it.

"An empty field?" Dean questions, "It's where the building was built, take a look next door" She tells them. Y/N's eyes widen when she notices the bars on the windows, her eyes flickering back up to Jo. "Bars" Sam mutters. "We're next door to a prison?" Y/N says surprised, a tinge of proudness in her tone from how Jo picked up on that.

-

"Thanks, Ash" Jo thanks Ash over the phone after calling him to pull up any deep records they couldn't get on the old empty field the building was constructed on. "And if you breathe a word of this to my mom..." She threatens before ask quips up. "I know, I know. You'll pull my teeth out one by one" Ash muttered, rolling his eyes.

"That's right, I will. With pliers" She threatened again before shutting the phone close. Y/N snickered amused at her threat to Ash, sorta reminding her of her and Sam. "Okay, Moyamensing prison, built in 1853, torn down in 1963" Jo begins to explain the history of the building next door, waving the picture around.

"And get this, they used to execute people by hanging them in the empty field next door" Jo smiles widely. "Well, then we need a list of the people who was executed there" Sam smirks. "Ash is already on it" Jo informs them.

-

Y/N was now sat at the table, on her laptop, scrolling through a long list of names. The boys were besides her, leaning down to get a proper look. Both her and Sam agape while Jo stood behind her. "A hundred fifty- seven names?" She gasps. "We gotta narrow that down" Dean shakes his head. "Yeah" Sam agrees. "Or else we're gonna be digging up a hell of a lot of stiffs" Dean adds.

Y/N begins to scroll down the list, her eyes catching the attention of a certain name. She moved the computer mouse on it to highlight it. She knew she saw it somewhere, "Herman Webster Mudgett?" Y/N questions. Sams eyebrows quirk up at the name. "Yeah?" Jo questions. "I know that name from somewhere" Y/N mutters. It then clicks in Sams head, "Wasn't that H.H. Holmes' real name?" Sam points out.

"Oh my fuck" Y/N gasps, "It was!" She adds. Dean rolls his eyes, "You gotta be kidding me" He groans. Dean then turns the laptop to him, sitting next to Y/N as Sam takes a seat on the table why Dean begins to look up if H.H. Holmes was executed in the lot.

-

After some time, Sam, Jo and Y/N printed out some pictures old of the H.H. Holmes crime scene while Dean stumbled on an old news article that confirms it. "Yup. Holmes was executed at Moyamensing, May 7th 1896" Dean confirms. Y/N and Sam shake their heads in disbelief, "H.H. Holmes himself? Can you believe it?" Y/N nudges Sam. "Come on, I mean, what are the odds?" Sam nods in agreement, still in disbelief.

"Who is this guy?" Jo questions. "The term 'Multi Murderer'. They coined it to describe Holmes" Dean explains from the title of the article. "He was Americas first serial killer before anybody knew what a serial killer was" He adds. "Yeah, he confessed to 27 murders. But some put the death toll a over a hundred" Sam chimes in. "And his victim flavor of choice: pretty, petite blondes." Y/N adds, while Jo grimaces.

"He, uh, used chloroform to kill them....." Y/N continues, realization hitting her. She nudges Dean who also realized something, "...which is what we smelled in the hallway last night" They say in unison. The two share a look before Dean continued to explain to Jo, "At his place, cops found human remains. Bone fragments and long locks of bloody blonde hair....Boy you sure know how to pick 'em" Dean mutters sarcastically to Jo.

"We just find the bones, salt them and burn them, right?" Jo asks a bit scared now. "Well, it's not that easy" Y/N shakes her head. Jo looks confused at this. "His body is buried in town...but it's encased in a couple tons of concrete" Sam explains having researched a lot about serial killers, along with y/n, from a young age. It was a shared interest they had.

"What? Why?" Jo gasps. "The story goes that uh, he didn't want anybody mutilating his corpse. Because, you know, it's what he used to do" Dean adds with a tight smile. Jo's eyebrows raise as her mouth falls agape. Something dawns on Y/N, "You know something? We might have an even bigger problems than that" Y/N says, picking up the picture of Holmes' murder castle while Jo's face drops. "How does this get bigger?" Jo scoffs, trying to hide the fear in her voice.

"Holmes' built an apartment building in Chicago. They called it the Murder Castle. The whole place was a death factory. They had trapdoors, acid yard, quicklime pits" Y/N lists off, explaining giving Sam a knowing look. Sam begins to understand where she's getting at. "Right...and he built those secret chambers inside the walls. Where he'd lock his victims in, keep them alive for days. Some he'd suffocate, others he'd led starve to death" Sam adds.

The wheels in his head were spinning. "So you guys think Theresa could still be alive. She could be inside these walls." Jo finally gets where the two were coming from. Along with Dean, instantly going into Hunter mode. "We need sledgehammers, crowbars. We gotta smash these walls anywhere thick enough to hide a girl" Dean orders.

________________________________

Dean wielded the sledgehammer in his hands, breaking through the wooden wall with the help of Y/N, her crowbar crashing through the drywall behind. They coughed from the settling dust before Y/N fished her flashlight from her jacket pocket, shining it into the narrow hallway. Dean went in first, pressing his back sideways from how narrow the entrance was.

Y/N went in after, doing the same. Her phone rang, Metallica blurring through the empty hall. "Hello?" She answered pressing the phone to her ear. "We're almost done with the first floor but got nothing on the northwest wall" Sam informed her. "Okay, call us after you check the northeast wall" Y/N responded before flipping the phone shut. "Sam and Jo's almost done with the first floor" Y/N tells Dean.

"Hasn't found jacksquat either" She mutters getting frustrated as they trudged through the cobweb filled hallway. Dean groaned heavily when he reached the end of the hall which wasn't large enough to fit him. Y/N noticed the frustrated tone, "What is it?" She asked, "It's too narrow. I can't go any further" Dean told her, shining his own flashlight down the opening.

"Let me see" Y/N says. "What are you-?" Dean goes to question but Y/N pushed him back lightly against the wall, wiggling her frame through the small space between Dean, her breasts pressed to the bricked barrier, her back to Deans fronts. The second Y/N's ass grazed Deans jeans, his mouth fell agape. Clenching his jaw, "Oh fuck, should've cleaned the pipes" Dean held back his moan, but his words flowed out of his mouth unconsciously.

Heat built up in him, he tried to control his hormones. "What?" Y/N huffed, utterly confused. Deans eyes snapped open, embarrassed. "I just- I wish the pipes were clean" Dean lamely tries to cover it up, looking up towards the wall but his growing arousal pressed against her was hard to hide. Literally speaking. Her cheeks flushed when she felt his cock shift in his pants, a heat now rising in her.

Y/N's stomach flustered in pleasure, but she knew they had to stay focused on the mission. "Shut up. I can fit in there" She huffed. "You're not going in there by yourself" Dean huffed back. "You got a better idea?" Y/N countered sassily, purposefully pressing her ass further against his growing arousal. "You're not making this any easier, Princess" Dean whined, her eyebrows cocked at his tone.

A light smirk on her face, a glint of mischief in her eyes, she decided to tease him further. "It's just an ass, charming. Haven't you felt one before?" She mocked, a seductive chuckle leaving her throat. Dean narrowed his gaze at her antics. He was trying his damn hardest to calm down, and here she was pushing his buttons. One hand was gripping her left hip, pressing her firmly to him.

His other hand occupied by his flashlight. God knows if that flashlight wasn't in his hand, he'd find a way to touch her, with her consent of course. He couldn't help himself, the way she was pressed against him was driving him crazy.

"Make it quick" Dean growled, obliging on her shimming her way to the narrow route, using every ounce of dignity and respect he had for her, not to drag her out of there and have his way with her whilst Sam and Jo searched the bottom floor. She did just that, pulling out her phone. She called Deans, "Stay on the phone, I'll tell you what I see" She tells him. "Okay" Dean squeaked, still flushed from what just happened.

So was y/n, she was gripping by a thread right now to contain herself. She continued to flash her light, eventually ending up to the south wall. Using her crowbar, she sent it charging, bursting through the wall. Only for the light from the outside of the building to shine through. She groaned in defeat. "Where are you?" Dean asked over the phone after a minute and a half of silence.

"There's a dead end. I'm coming back" She sighed. Y/N move went back to where Dean was. They both shimmied through the hall and made their way back to the building itself.

-

Meanwhile, Sam and Jo found a similar narrow pathway to Y/N but this time, on the north side. Sam, was obviously too big to fit. "I can fit in there" Jo says. "Are you kidding me? No way in hell?" Sam shakes his head. "You wanna go in there yourself ginormo?" Jo retorts, earning an exasperated sigh from Sam. "Fine. Hurry up" Sam gave in as Jo shimmied into the narrow opening.

Now on the phone with Sam whilst she continued down the dark hall, ending up to a air duct. She finally made it to the north wall, "You still there, Jo?" Sam asked over the phone. "I'm by the north wall" Jo replies. Eventually, she stumbles on what looks like an air duct. "I'm heading down some kind of air duct" She tells Sam, holding the phone between her cheek and shoulder. "No, no, no, no. Stay up here" Sam instructs her, panicking a bit.

"Sam, we gotta find this girl, don't we? I'm okay" She assures him. Sam sighs, nodding as he looked at the map in his hands. "Alright, I'm heading to you" He says, making his way out of the tunnel. Jo grunts as she climbed into the air duct, finally hitting ground while Sam was in his way to break through the other side so he can go in with her. "Damn it" Jo huffed when she reached a opening even she was too big to fit into.

She shone her light onto the walls down the hall, her eyes widening in fear when she heard something like water began to seep through the cracks of the walls. She turned her light to the source, only to see ectoplasm running down the walls, the black thick and runny liquid drenching through the cracks. "Oh, God" Her voice cracked fearfully.

Sams ears quirked up at her tone through the phone, "What is it?" He stopped in his tracks, the phone sounds then went static. "Jo? Jo?" Sam calls out to her in panic. Jo's piercing scream echoed through the walls of the building. Sam bolted into action, running down the stairs.

-

Meanwhile, Dean and Y/N were finally out of the tunnel, "You..." Dean turns to Y/N, pointing his finger at her firmly, his eyes narrowed but still lust filled. She had a cocky smirk on her face, amused by Dean's flushed appearance though she was flushed herself. "...are one evil, evil woman" Dean scoffs as if he were mad at her teasing him in the tunnel, but honestly, it rocked his fucking boat.

He loved every second of it, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Winchester" Y/N feigns an innocent tone, putting on her puppy dog look through her doed eyes but Dean saw right through it. The way that 'Mr. Winchester' rolled off her tongue, had Dean going in a way he couldn't explain. He could only imagine how 'Mrs. Winchester' would sound coming off of it. Or his hips rolling against hers...her tongue on his....or on him...

Wait, what? Get your head in the game, dude! Dean thought to himself.

Before he could respond. Jo's piercing screaming through the building snapped them out of their heated gaze. Both sharing a look of terror before bolting into action.

-

They ran to the north side of the building, both bumping into Sam who was rushing down the hall. "Whoa!" Dean and Y/N exclaimed when they bumped into him, Sam was disheveled. "He's got Jo" Sam panicked. "What? How's that happen? We heard her scream" Dean asks panicked while Y/N's chest heaved with worry. "I wasn't with her. I left her alone. Damn it!" Sam exclaims, frustrated that he let her slip through his fingers.

"Okay, okay. Look. We'll find her" Y/N assures him as they follow him down the hall. "Where?!" Sam huffs. "Inside the walls" Dean adds, trying to calm his brother down. "We've been inside the walls all night. The other girls aren't there. She won't be either!" Sam growls, pushing the door to their room open. "Look, we just have to take a beat and think about this. Maybe we got Holmes' M.O wrong" Y/N suggests, closing the door behind her.

"Yeah, well we better fucking think fast" Sam grumbles as he and y/n sift through the papers on the table. Sam's phone rings, he fishes his phone out of his pocket. "Yeah" He answers. "You lied to me. She's there" Ellen's angry voice booms through his speaker. "Ellen" He gasps in panic, looking over at Dean and Y/N. Sams face was flushed with guilt.

"No. Ash told me everything" Ellen snaps. "He's a genius. But he folds like a cheap suit" She mumbles. "Now you put my damn daughter on the phone" Ellen orders him roughly. Dean gets up and snatches the phone from his brother, "She's gonna have to call you back. She's taking care of...feminine business" Dean lies terribly. "Yeah right. Where is she?" Ellen scoffs unconvinced.

They don't answer, Sam's heart pounding through his chest. "Where is she?!" Ellen yells. "Look, we'll get her back" Sam tries to say calmly. "Get her back? Back from what?" Ellen croaks, her stomach churning the way a mother's does whenever their child is in danger. "The spirit were hunting, it took her" Sam admits. "Oh my god" Ellen gasps, tears threatening to make way through her eyes.

"She'll be okay, I promise" Sam swears wholeheartedly. "You promise? That is not the first time I've heard that from a Winchester or a L/N." Ellen scoffs angrily. "What-?" Sam asks confused. "If anything happens to her.." Ellen goes to threaten but Sam cuts her off. "It won't. I won't let it. Ellen, I'm sorry. I really am" Sam sincerely apologizes.

"I'm taking the first flight out. I'll be there in a few hours" Ellen says quickly, hanging the phone up. Sam's heart drops, his head hung in shame. He turned to his brother and best friend, "Damn it!" Sam exclaims, tossing his phone on the table. Sympathetic looks on both Dean and Y/N's faces. "Don't beat yourself up, Sammy." Y/N says gently.

"Yeah, there's nothing you could have done" Dean assures his brother. He shakes his head in frustration, "Tell me you got something" Sam huffs, "Uh...maybe. Look" Y/N sighs, moving the papers to show them the blueprint. "If you look at the layout of the Holmes' Murder Castle. There's other torture chambers inside the walls, right?" Y/N begins. "Right" Sam and Dean respond in unison.

"But there's one we haven't considered yet, the one in his basement" She points out. "But this building doesn't have a basement" Sam and Dean say in unison again, startling her this time. "Okay, you two have gotta stop doing that. It gives me the heebie jeebies" She groans before going back to the subject of the conversation. "Okay, it doesn't have a basement. But I just noticed this" She begins, trailing her finger on a certain spot of the map.

Sams eyes widen when she does this, leaning in to get a better look of the map. "Beneath the foundation, it looks like part of an old sewer system. It hasn't been used for-" She further explains but Sam cuts her off. "Let's go!" He orders, grabbing his jacket and rushing out the door. Dean and Y/N share a look before shrugging and following behind him.

________________________________

Jo begins to come to, having been knocked unconscious when the spirit took her. She gasps when she realizes she's trapped in what seems to be a metal box. Shaking with fear, she reaches into her pocket where she had an extra mini flashlight. Turning it on, she shines the light around the tight space.

She then shined it above her, another gasp leaves her throat when she saw that ontop of the box were scratches.....human scratches. Jo runs her fingers over them, still shaking with fear. Emotions overtook her as she began to sob, as much as she wanted to be bait to catch this spirit. It terrified her at how real and intense everything has been.

She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she's doing this to be closer to her father. She recollected herself in a moment before flashing her light to the side. She noticed there was a little slit opening, she peeped out to see what looked like a chamber on the outside. A metal clanks from the area, scaring the shit out of her.

"Hello?" Jo called out through the slit, praying there was someone else there. Sobbing and gasping came from the other side of the room, through a slit similar to Jo's box, "Is anybody there?" A woman croaks, "Your names Theresa?" Jo asks her. "Yes" Theresa confirms, nodding as she cried. "This won't make you feel better, but I'm here to rescue you" Jo gulps, fear potent in her tone.

"Oh, God. He's out there. He's gonna kill us" The woman shakes with fear, tears drenching her face. "No, he won't. We're getting out" Jo tries to assure her, trying to stay positive. "My friends are looking for us. They'll fine us" Jo adds, knowing that Sam, Dean and Y/N are probably raising hell at this very moment to find her.

Footsteps trudge into the chamber, "Oh, God. He's here!!" Theresa squeals, shaking with fear again. "Shhh! Just be quiet" Jo shushes her, tears in her eyes also. Theresa does so as Jo pants, peeping through the hole. Suddenly, an arm reaches in and grabs Jo by her head. Jo screams as Holmes pulls out a chunk of her hair from her scalp. Crying from the pain.

________________________________

Meanwhile, the trio are back on ground above. Sam with a metal detector, scanning the ground for any hits on the sewer system while Dean and Y/N were equip with shovels. Sirens echoes through the streets and they canvassed the area. The metal detector started to beep, hope soared in their chests as they followed the beeping deport into an empty dirt lot. It went nuts over a certain spot in the middle of the lot.

"Here" Sam said, pointing to the ground. Dean places his duffel bag on the ground and they instantly began digging the ground. They hit metal after a minute and they all began to dust away at it with their hands, or hand in Sam's case since his cast was a bother. After dusting away the remainder of the dirt, they uncovered a large metal opening.

Dean and Y/N grabbed onto either sides, "Got it?" She asks him. "Yeah" Dean responds, both lifting open the metal cover, revealing what looked like a secret hidden bunker with some step ladders. Dean reached into the his duffel, grabbing three rock salt guns, handing one each to the two younger hunters. Y/N then turnt on her flashlight, shining it into the dark hole.

Dean went first, lowering himself and then climbing down. Sam followed in behind while Y/N entered last.

-

Meanwhile Jo was banging at the bottom of the box she was trapped in with her feet, grunting as she did so, trying to break free. She panted in defeat as she laid there, hope of getting out diminishing. Jo felt a preside begins her, a cold chill. She peeped through the little slit in the wall to see a bearded mouth,

"You're so pretty" Holmes' spirit moans, breathing heavily. "So beautiful" He sighs in pleasure. Jo felt like throwing up on spot, she narrows her hate filled eyes at him, "Go to hell!" She growls at him, Holmes' chuckles deeply before licking his lips. Jo turnt away from him, only to be greeted by the unpleasant feeling of his hand caressing her hair.

She groaned and gagged in disgust as Holmes moans, his hand drifting down to her neck, roaming her arm...before he could reach her bottom she swiftly wielding her fathers iron knife, stabbing the spirit in his arm. Holmes' screams in pain. "How do you like that?! Pure iron, you creepy-ass son of a bitch!" Jo screams with hate, mocking Holmes.

-

The trio grunted as they crawled through the wet, dark narrow tunnel. The only source of light being their flashlights.

-

Jo shook with fear, gripping her fathers iron knife as she panted. "Is he gone?" Theresa asks tearfully, equally as shaken. "I don't know. I-" Jo responds shakily, only to be interrupted by Holmes' dirty hand grabbing hers roughly. Jo screamed as Holmes tried to pry her knife away from her, he harshly placed his hand over her mouth, muffling her screams.

"Shh, shh." Holmes shushed her, moaning from the sick pleasure of gagging her. "Hey!" Sam's voice bellows through the chamber, catching Holmes off guard. Behind a gate to entire the chamber, was the trio. Sam cocks his gun at Holmes before blasting him with rocksalt. Repelling his spirit, causing him to disapparate. They then open the gate in a rush, "Jo?!" They all call out for her.

"I'm here!" Jos draws their attention to the box in the wall, sobbing. Using a crowbar, Sam begins to pry at the box metal box while Dean and Y/N look through other slits that seemed to be connected to boxes. Dean gagged when he saw a rotting corpse. Y/N's eyes widened when she looked into another box to see a very alive woman. Sam grunted, "Come on!" As he tried to pry the box open.

"We're gonna get you out of here, alright hun?" Y/N assures Theresa gently. "Dean! Y/N!" Sam called out to them, handing them each a crowbar. Dean and Y/N began to pry at Theresa box, "Hang on, Jo" Sam finally got her box open, lifting the side lid. "You alright?" Sam asks her, helping her out of the box. "Been better" Jo grunts ironically as she climbed out with Sam's help.

"Let's get the hell out of here before he comes back" Jo says as Dean and Y/N pry open Theresa's box. "Actually, I don't think you're leaving here just yet" Y/N says to her calmly. "What?" Jo huffs confused, her hair disheveled all over his face. "Remember when I said you being bait was a bad plan? Now it's kind of the only one we got" Y/N says before looking back at Sam and Dean who was helping Theresa to her feet.

-

Jo sat in the middle of the chamber, shaking with fear. Patiently waiting for Holmes to show back up. Her heart began beating out of her chest when she felt the air get colder, a moaning groaning sound of the man behind her. Holmes slowly made his way up to her as Jo sat cross legged in the middle of the chamber.

"Now!" Y/N shouted, indicating for the boys to shoot on her command and Jo to duck out of the way. They were peering from the gate, all aiming for the tarps with salt they set up on the walls. The salt fell to the ground in a perfect circle around Holmes' spirit, trapping him. Holmes gasps, his eyes wide with fear as Jo quickly crawls out of the circle with Y/N, running to help her to her feet.

She helped her out of the gate, locking it behind them. Holmes screamed helplessly since the salt trapped him. "Scream all you want you dick, but there's no way you're stepping over that salt!" Jo mocked him as Holmes screamed for mercy, they then locked the covering for the gate, leaving the ghost of a screaming serial killer trapped.

________________________________

They were all now back above ground, right by the metal trap door they entered from. "So, this job as glamorous as you thought it would be?" Sam asks her jokingly. "Well, except for all the pee-your-pants-terror, yeah, sure" Jo responds with the same level of humor, earning chuckles from Sam and Y/N. "But that Theresa girls gonna live a life because of us. It's worth it, isn't it?" Jo adds.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is" Y/N agrees, nodding. Sam sighs, still filled with guilt, "I really am sorry, Jo" Sam apologizes sincerely. Jo cocks her eyebrow, "For what? It's not your fault the bastard nabbed me. You got him good with the rock salt though" Jo assured him with a shy smile, nudging him slightly. Y/N cocked her eyebrow at the interaction when she noticed a sheepish smile on Sam's face.

They're so into each other. Y/N snorted as she thought to herself.

"Hey, what if somebody finds that sewer down there? Or a storm washes the salt away?" Jo asks curiously. Y/N smirks, both her and Sam sharing a look. "Both very fine points, which is why we're waiting here" She winks at Jo, "For what?" Jo asks still confused. As if on cue, the beeping of a trunk starts up behind him.

They all turn around to see a cement truck backing up, Jo chuckles, looking back to Sam and Y/N, "For that" Sam smirks as Jo chuckles. Dean carefully backs the cement trunk right in place infront of the hole. Y/N couldn't help but notice how hot he looked behind that wheel, something about the way he focused, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Ho!" Sam shouts for Dean to stop, indicating he's safe. Dean put the truck in park as Sam and Y/N unhook the canal for the cement, lowering it right over the hole. "You ripped off a cement truck?" Jo snorts. "I'll give it back" Dean shrugs innocently. Jo rolls her eyes, chuckling, kinda impressed as Dean pulls the lever on the truck, allowing the cement to make its way down the canal and into the hole.

Sam and Y/N smile at the sight. "Well, that ought to keep him down there till hell freezes over" Y/N chuckles, nudging Jo. Who smiles in return, both sharing a laugh.

________________________________

Now leaving the state of Philadelphia, the car ride back in the Impala was filled with awkward silence, the tension in the air thicker than ever. You may be thinking it's because of Dean and Y/N's little session, but you're dead wrong.

In the front seat sat Ellen, with a very obvious pissed off expression plastered across her face. Sam, Y/N and Jo sat in the back seat. Jo's eyes were trained out the window on her side with her arms crossed over her chest, while Y/N stared at her hands on her own side. Scared by the tension. With Sam crunched together in the middle, in a slightly awkward position.

"Boy, you really weren't kidding about flying out, were you?" Dean broke the silence, trying to joke to ease the situation but Ellen's face remained stoic, heaving with anger. Deans smile dropped, he puffed up his cheeks before thinking of something else. His eyes trailing to the radio deck, "How bout we listen to some music" He suggests before turning on the radio.

'You're as cold as ice!'

'Cold as Ice' by Foreigner began playing on the radio. Y/N physically facepalmed at the irony as Ellen reached over to turn off the radio. Jo's eyebrows raised as she looked over at Sam, the two share an amused look at this. "This is gonna be a long drive" Y/N mutters to herself.

________________________________

CE, Nebraska

They all burst through the doors of the roadhouse, Ellen dragging her daughter by her arm. "Ellen" Sam stops her, Ellen then turns to him. Anger prominent on her face, "This is my fault, okay? I lied to you and I'm sorry. But Jo did good out there" Sam apologizes again, Jo gave him a small smile, grateful that he'd stand up for her. A small blush rising on her face.

"Yeah, I think her dad would be proud" Y/N adds gently, giving her newfound friend a small smile. "Don't you dare say that. Not you!" Ellen snaps at Y/N harshly, surprising all of them. "I need a moment with my daughter, alone" She adds firmly, the three nod sheepishly, ashamed before exiting the roadhouse.

As they all exit, Jo turns to her mom. "You're angry, I understand-" She begins but Ellen cuts her off. "Angry? Angry doesn't begin to touch it!" Ellen lectures. "Let's just think about this." Jo pleads, rushing her bag on the bar counter. "Everything's okay. I'm alive" She assures her mother. "Not after I'm through with you!" Ellen yells.

"Is this about me hunting or something else?" Jo snaps back. "You let them use you as bait!" Ellen counters. "They were right there. They were backing me up the whole time!" Jo defends her friends. "That is why you don't have the sense to do this job. You're trusting your life to them!" Ellen screams, pointing at the door angrily.

"What are you talking about?" Jo screams bavk confused as ever. "Like fathers, like children. That is what I'm talking about" Ellen's voice falters as tears well up in her eyes. Jo's heart drops at this, "John and F/N?" She asks her mother. "I thought you all were friends" Jo says, "Yeah, we all were. I'm sorry, I didn't-" Ellen tried to cover up her outburst, but Jo calls bullshit.

"Mom...What aren't you telling me?" Jo asks her mother again, her chest heaves with worry when Ellen turns to her with a guilt ridden face.

-

The trio were all outside by the Impala, waiting for the mother and daughter to finish their conversation. All worried when Jo opened the door to the roadhouse, leaving in a rush. She gave them once over before turning to go in the other direction. Sam noticed this and walked over to her. "That bad, huh?" Sam asked her gently as Dean and Y/N sat on the car trunk.

"Not right now" Jo snapped at him. Sam is taken back by this, "What happened?" He asks concerned but Jo doesn't answer. "Hey, talk to me" He tries to ask again, putting his hand on her shoulder but Jo pushes his hand off roughly. "Get off me!" She yelled, Sam's heart dropped at this. Dean and Y/N got up quickly at this, both getting up to walk over. Standing side by side near Sam.

"Talk to me, Jo" His voice falters when he notices the pained look on her face. "Turns out my dad had partners on his last hunt. Funny, he usually worked alone. But I guess my father figured he could trust them." Jo begins, tears welling up in her eyes as they all listened. "Mistake. They screwed up, got my dad killed" She added with anger. "What does this have to do with-?" Y/N goes to ask, all confused but Jo cuts her off.

"It was your fathers, guys!" Jo yells. All of their hearts sink, Sam's especially. "Why do you think John and F/N never came back? Never told any of you about us? Because they couldn't look my mom in the eye after that. That's why!" She stated, filled with grief and anger. "Jo-" Dean tries to say. "Just get out of here" Jo growls, trying to not punch him.

"Please, just leave" She pleads, before turning away to walk. None of them knew how to respond. All facing the consequences of their parents’ sins.

________________________________

Author's Note: HIIII!! I hope everyone enjoyed this episode, I made this one especially long and added a few Easter eggs in, hopefully you pick up on them.

Can I just say…she really is an evil evil woman teasing Dean like that LOL. It was giving bad bitch for me tho hehehe. Definitely my favorite part of this episode😩

I'd like to know your opinions on Sam and Jo's crushes on each other this episode, I initially wasn't planning it but while writing this I thought it would be cute🥰

I know people love Dean and Jo and always thought they should've been endgame. But remember, this is a Dean x Reader book.

Anyways, thank you for reading and I can’t wait to do the next one!

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19 @deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28

Xoxo

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another" Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 5:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Hurt feelings and misunderstandings.

--------------------------------------------------

You felt like you were going to throw up.

“....useful asset… reckless…. irritable… not a member of the team to me…”

You'd gotten back to the ship earlier than planned, entering quietly as not to wake Omega. You froze upon hearing your name in Hunter's voice and then in Tech’s. It felt wrong, listening in to a private conversation, but you couldn't stop the way your heart sped up, sending butterflies swirling about your stomach upon hearing Hunter's voice. He sounded confused, upset even. So against your better judgment, you stayed. Now you wished you hadn't.

Is that really what they think of me? Reckless, irresponsible. An asset.

Not even a member of the team. An asset.

You curled into the pillow, hidden away behind the thick curtains that Wrecker had hung around your bunk.

Probably so that they wouldn't have to see me - so that they can just forget I'm here until I'm useful.

Tears burned hot, soaking the pillow in a silent grief. It hurt. You thought you'd finally found a home - finally found where you belonged. Now you knew that was a lie.

First Hunter. Now the whole squad.

The jagged remains of wishful hope that still lingered in your chest fractured further, splintering like glass.

You could still see it clearly. Though it was only a glimpse caught in nanoseconds, the sight of it branded itself behind your eyes like a hot iron. Hunter and Tara, lips locked in a moment of passion. Her fingers tangled in his hair. His hand on her waist.

The datapad lying forgotten on the bunk at your feet chimed loudly, drawing you back into the moment with a start. Almost instinctively, your fingers curled into fists, hands shaking, nearly drawing blood as your fingernails dug against the skin of your palm, clenching ever tighter until the skin around your knuckles turned white. Another mission. Echo must’ve been out at Cid’s. You scrolled through the dossier he’d sent, annoyance flashing across your face. They’d already assumed you’d be ready and able like nothing had happened.

Nothing has happened - at least not to them.

It was so easy to forget that all the turbulence that boiled under your skin was simply a product of your own mind.

One more mission. One more day.

You’d give them this. One last mission because you couldn’t bear to let them down. No matter what they thought of you, the love you felt for this squad was still there scrambling in a desperately futile attempt to repair the shattered pieces of hope that stubbornly refused to leave. Hope like that was dangerous. You’d only get hurt again - yet it continued to fight back.

But what if…

No.

Could it have been a misunderstanding?

No. Stop.

Am I overreacting for nothing?

If you keep this up you’ll just end up worse than before. Just accept that you don’t belong here. One last mission then you’ll leave.

But I don’t want to go…

Yes you do. It’s better this way.

Taking a deep breath, you wiped your face and quickly headed to the fresher keeping your eyes down lest anyone see the telling red-rimmed, swollen eyes and splotchy patches adorning your face.

It’s all professional now. This is just another job. The mission comes before all else. Emotions get you killed.

The cool water soothed the heat of your skin. You stared into the mirror making no attempts to dry the wet dripping down your face, allowing it to wash away all evidence of hurt. It was surprisingly easy to allow yourself to slip back into the gruff bounty hunter facade you’d kept up for so long before joining the Batch.

Focus on the task at hand. Get the job done.

Sitting back down on the bed, you drew the curtains again and unlocked the small trunk that held what little belongings you had. Sitting inside was the trooper doll companion you were making for Omega - stuffed with one of Hunter's old bandanas. It was only half finished.

And probably won’t ever be now, you thought as you picked it up, fingers running gently over the soft material. The tears threatened to come again at the thought of a memory that was no longer yours to make.

Something stuck out from beneath an extra jacket. Against your better judgment, you pulled it out and sighed. A bittersweet nostalgia knotted your stomach. There you were beside Hunter - Omega squeezed between you, smiling proudly despite the grime that covered her tunic. It was her first training exercise. You smiled proudly down at her. Even Hunter sported some semblance of a grin.

The fingertips encroaching on the sides of the image denoted Wrecker as the camera operator. Tech and Echo engaged in ship repairs in the background.

What you wouldn't give to go back to that time. Everything seemed simpler then.

Swallowing hard, you put the holopic back at the bottom of the trunk, covering it fully with the jacket. You shoved the remainder of your supplies into your pack and shut the trunk, letting the lock click into place with a resounding finality.

Clenching your teeth, you took a deep breath. One more mission. One more day.

--------------------------------------------------

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[s-awturn]

Moon Spell || CS55

summary: They were fated to love someone they hated. There was no spell, no grudge, no curse that could break the bond that united them, doomed to die in the feelings they fiercely nurtured. The Moon had determined it and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

“These violent pleasures have violent ends, and die in their triumph, like fire and gunpowder, which, when they kiss, consume each other. The sweetest honey is disgusting in its own sweetness, and its taste confuses the palate.”

cw: Violence, conflict, soulmates, blood, magic, alternate universe, obscenity, pure filth, chaos, fighting, swearing, intense hatred, love, mention of death, blood.

a/n: This came to celebrate Carlos' birthday and to open the new phase of my profile. This is supposed to have five chapters, no more, no less. I don't know what else to say, so read on!

starring: werewolf!Carlos x witch!Fem reader

Part One: We Were Born To Die

”Choose your last words, this is the last time 'Cause you and I, we were born to die”

Europe, 1498.

She packed all her belongings into a deep leather bag, threw in crystals, grimoires, a few candles, and other magical items; she couldn't stay there long, her hiding place had been discovered and soon crazy fanatics would be there to drag her to the stake. She couldn't waste her family's sacrifice in keeping her alive.

“Let's go, Spix, let's not wait for those madmen to take us to the fire or the gallows” she said, picking up the cat and putting it in the basket. Toledo was no longer a safe place, in fact there was no safe place, with the frightening religious fanaticism that the kings of Spain were feeding, everyone was suspected of witchcraft and heresy, women were dragged to the catacombs of churches and were never seen again.

S/N saw husbands hand over their wives, fathers hand over their daughters, everyone wanted the silver coins that the Church was offering. She needed to get away from this, S/N knew that her neighbors were suspicious of her, a woman living alone on the outskirts of the village attracted attention. She couldn't leave any room for bad luck.

She threw a black cape over her simple dress, tightened her boots, and left the house, saying goodbye silently. That house where her parents lived their entire lives, where she herself spent her life, would soon be burned down, so many memories would be turned into ashes; He didn't look back, he clutched the bag under his arm and ran into the woods, listening to Spix's meows, nestled in the bag.

The moonlight illuminated her steps, ensuring that she managed to avoid roots and holes in the ground and it wasn't long before she heard the angry shouts of the villagers, She hid behind a thick trunk and saw the torches shining in the darkness, they cried out the name of God, calling her a witch and accusing her of heresy. S/N heard her door being broken down.

It wouldn't be long before they noticed her absence and went hunting for her in the forest. She needed to run far away, get away from poor fanatics after a few dozen silver coins. Her life wasn't worth that.

She made her way to a remote part of the forest, where wolves and other wild animals hid. No villager would dare to go there, after all, no one wanted to become wolf food.

When she passed through the oak arch, a shiver shook her insides, S/N looked at the sky and the Moon shone so brightly that it illuminated small patches of darkness in the forest, and a thought made her stop: It was a full moon night and the werewolves would go out to hunt.

She was vulnerable in the middle of the woods, with only a small dagger in the pocket of her cloak and her magic. Anyway, she hoped that no werewolves would cross her path, or she would have a lot of problems besides angry Catholics.

She went deeper into the forest, even Spix's meows fell silent. In fact, there was no sound at all, the wind did not cut through the trees, the leaves did not rustle, not even the nocturnal animals screeched in their hiding places. Until a deep sound echoed, an angry growl that betrayed hunger.

Y/N gripped the dagger with trembling fingers, witches and werewolves had hated each other since the first dawn, if it really was a hungry werewolf there, she would love to devour her, just for the pleasure of destroying her; he took a deep breath and ran between the trees, whatever it was, he wasn't going to risk staying there, even though turning his back was already a high risk.

She ended up in a clearing completely lit by the moon, the exact same clearing where she and her mother used to perform rituals to thank the goddess for the harvest and the coven celebrated.

But that was before Ferdinand and Isabella began their persecution. Before she saw her friends burn at the stake, her parents die on the gallows.

A dark bark stopped her in the middle of the clearing, Y/N heard the branches being broken and the frightening sound of teeth chattering. Her heart accelerated painfully, she was terrified, maybe she could make the roots hold him, but her magic wasn't strong enough for that.

Her magic core was weak and did not have enough strength to channel forces of nature. She would have to make do with an iron dagger and the help of the goddess.

— ☽ —

It was the night of the full moon and he could feel the effects surging through his body since early on, and there was a strange feeling present in his chest. Carlos felt that something was going to happen that night, and it wouldn't just be the milestone of his thirty years of age.

He saw his father cross the small village with a group of refugees, religious madness had arrived in those parts and was terrorizing his people, there was no one who did not fear being dragged into the church basement. No one wanted to be tortured and killed.

“Stop daydreaming and go help your sister, that roof is still going to fall on her head” he heard his mother order.

“Where is her husband? That’s that lazy bastard’s responsibility,” he questioned, but received a click of his tongue in return. He growled in irritation, Carlos would beat up his brother-in-law as soon as he could. And he wouldn't care about his sister's crying or his father's lecture.

He trudged over to his sister's shack, seeing Blanca hanging from the roof, hammering some nails into the central beam. This only made him growl even more, he really was going to punch his brother-in-law in the face as soon as he got the chance.

“Blanca, what the hell are you doing there?" He stopped far enough away to see his sister, Blanca wiped the sweat on her forehead and glared at him mockingly.

“I think I'm baking bread, what do you think?” she retorted sarcastically.

“And where is your useless husband? He must be sleeping…”

“Don't talk about him like that, you know his health is fragile” She tries to defend her husband, but this only increases Carlos' irritation.

“He's a werewolf, Blanca, the only fragile thing about him is his will to work” Carlos growled “Get down from there, I'll take care of this, since your husband is as useless as a leaky bucket!”

The woman came down from the roof, and Carlos took her place, still complaining about his sister's husband and insisting on hammering the boards hard, not caring if it would wake the sleeping man. Work distracted him from the strange feeling in his chest, he didn't know how the full moon night would end, but he knew something would happen.

Only when the sun began to set on the horizon did Carlos finish repairs to his sister's house — not without landing two hard punches in the face of his brother-in-law who dared to complain about the noise. He needed to prepare, As it was the first night of the full moon, the effects would be more intense, and he needed to prepare his body and mind to allow the beast to command him.

As night fell, Carlos felt the involuntary spasms and his gums itched, the bones in his legs and arms cracked painfully, anticipating the metamorphosis.

And of course, the sensation increased along with the discomfort, the beast inside him scratched the walls, howling as if it was foretelling something. Maybe it was the villagers appearing on the edge of their land, maybe it was the witches who had returned, it could be anything.

Any damn thing.

When the transformation, he began to run between the trees, smelling the wet grass, the animals nestled in their dens, Carlos felt the wet earth under his feet and when he realized it, he was running on four legs, his peripheral vision was greater and his sense of smell could perceive things dozens of meters away.

He stopped abruptly and howled at the full moon, announcing the arrival of his birthday. That morning Carlos had turned thirty and there was nothing like fresh venison to celebrate.

He sniffed the air, searching for his prey and licked his sharp teeth when he caught the scent of a fox lurking in the bushes. The huge wolf followed the scent into the clearing, his eyes fixed on the distracted fox, he was about to pounce when a different scent filled the air.

The sweet scent of lavender and lemon hit his nose like a blow, disorienting the lycanthrope and he turned his skull, searching for the source of the smell and It wasn't long before the leaves on the far edge of the clearing parted and revealed a girl. Up close, her scent was more striking, more mystical.

Witch.

He growled, angry that she had disrupted his hunt and stirred his senses. His heart was pounding and he studied the girl, she was running away and looked terrified, the witch was sweating under her thick cloak and breathing quickly, her eyes scanning the trees and the wolf knew she was aware of his presence.

He could hear her heart beating and the wind started to blow again, carrying her scent to him and he growled, torn between wanting to smell her up close and killing her.

Werewolves had been killing witches since the beginning of time and his nature insisted that he rip out the girl's little neck. She pulled out a small metal dagger and he grunted with laughter, the little witch really thought an iron dagger would stop him.

He was eager to see her try.

With a powerful leap, the werewolf stopped in front of her, seeing her gasp in fright, her heartbeat increasing to the point of occupying all of the creature's sensitive hearing.

That was his feeling, somehow someone would die that night, either him or the little witch, after all that was the final outcome — regardless of how many ages his existence could drag on, at some point he would die. And the little witch too.

After all, all creatures are born to die.

But fate changed its course along with the path of the wind as soon as the wolf met the witch's eyes.

That could only be a bad joke from the Moon.