#you perfectly knew what you were getting into

[wileys-russo]

I love all your fics!!! From Alexia’s foundation can we get an Alexia x reader fic where you guys have a kid and Alexia won’t even take it easy on her own child while playing soccer

take it easy II a.putellas

"alexia." the blondes face softened at the call of her name, perking up as you smiled apologetically at the few other parents you scooted past to drop down into the empty seat beside your wife.

"hola mi amor." she pressed a kiss to your cheek as you scooted a little closer. "que?" she frowned seeing the obviously amused smile on your face as you looked at her.

"i have something..." she wiped at her mouth, having had a coffee not that long ago as you let out a chuckle and shook your head. "no, but you were making that face again." her frown only deepened at your answer.

"what face?" "the face." "what face?"

"this face." you mocked her stern scowl, sitting back in your chair and crossing your arms, practically glaring at the pitch where your son was running around, his training almost finished and the sun starting to dip lower behind the trees.

clicking her tongue at you the footballer just waved you off with a shake of her hand, though by the way she continued to fidget and adjust her position you knew she was now too aware of the way her face looked.

"what is wrong with my face?" your wife eventually huffed as the final whistle blew, all the boys huddling up with their coach as some of the parents began to stand and make their way over to the gate.

"nothing baby, i like your face. i married it." you pinched her cheek as she puffed air out of her nose and rolled her eyes simultaneously.

"why you make fun of it!" she scowled again, the accented english adorable as always, both of you speaking a blend of spanish, catalan and english around your son so he learned both your native languages equally.

"amor i am not making fun of it. but it makes him nervous when you sit and scowl like that!" you laughed as her frown shifted into something more curious. "who is nervous? leo?" alexia questioned.

"no amor, his coach!" you snickered, knocking your knee into hers and nodding down to where sure enough your sons five a side coach was sparing the pair of you, mainly your wife, nervous glances every now and then.

"see? this is why i said i would drop him off and pick him up today. have you been here the whole time?" you raised an eyebrow as your wife shrugged. "parents are allowed to stay."

"parents maybe, not professional footballers." you smiled, waving at leo as he spotted you with the same bright eyed grin that perfectly mirrored your wife.

"you make him nervous because of instead of watching leo you watch him and how he trains the boys. but they are five alexia! this isn't la masia." you teased as the blonde pulled a face, standing to her feet and offering you a hand up as the team dispersed, all running toward their parents.

"no if this was la masia, they would be winning games." alexia mumbled as you shot her a look and pinched her in warning, your sons team on quite the losing streak much to your over achieving high expectations having wifes displeasure.

"again amor, they are five." you reminded quietly as she hummed, leo sprinting over with his little cleats clacking against the pavement. alexia crouched down and braced right as he crash tackled into her, easily picking him up and spinning him around with a kiss to his cheek which was wiped off in seconds.

"you did so good today! i saw your goal." you praised as your son hugged your leg tightly, ruffling his sweaty hair as he beamed up at you, grabbing your hand and chattering away faster than you could even process the words.

"mami can we go kick the ball? i'm not tired yet!" your son begged, eyes looking pleadingly up at the blonde who smiled. "sí, cariño. i just want to go and speak to your coach about something-" you clicked your tongue at her but before you could even utter a word she was gone.

"vamos niño, mami can meet us at the car."

~

you watched on with a soft smile as your wife and son chased and raced around after one another in the park not far from your house, makeshift goals set up using sticks.

"mama! foul!" leo yelled to you from the ground as alexia tripped him, stealing the ball and booting it right into her goal, raising her hands to the sky victoriously. "amor." you cautioned her with a warning glare.

"que? that was clean!" she waved you off, leo already back up and on his feet with a scowl. "foul!" he parroted pointing accusingly at alexia. "foul. penalty kick awarded!" you did your best attempt at a whistle, will cheering and sprinting off to get the ball.

"let him score." you warned your wife once he was out of earshot. "en serio?" the midfielder scoffed in disbelief at the request. "sí alexia, he is five!" you hissed as leo returned, eagerly lining up for the kick.

"vamos mami!" he whined impatiently as you gave your wife a look and she walked off to the goal, standing in as keeper as leo took a few steps back and readied himself, hand shooting up in the air making you grin and alexia hide her smile.

"go!" you clapped, leo lurching forwards and booting the ball which sailed through the air...and right into alexias hands. "no goal!" your wife announced as leo slumped over, scowl returning and kicking at the grass.

"mama i wanna go home." he near levitated to your side, frown still etched into his features. "what! leo-" alexia called out but he was already off, stomping toward the car as you stood.

"see? you could not just let him score? idiota." you smacked her arm and snatched the ball, following after your son as alexia sighed deeply, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"leo we have to learn to lose cariño!" "i lose every week mami!" alexia winced a little at that as you all got into the car, maybe you had a point.

"lo siento hijo. how about when we get home i teach you a bicycle kick?" "sí sí sí!" "no alexia! he will break his neck!"

[sinstear]

you don’t know how long you’ve been lying here; sweaty, panting, sinking your nails into vi’s shoulder, but all you know is that she’s been having way too much fun. too much fun seeing how many times she could make you cum; it was a joke at first, mindlessly mumbling that she could make you cum more than 3 times, more than any ex has in a night. for a second you knew she was joking but when you saw the mischievous glint in her eyes and that infuriating yet adorable grin, you knew you were fucked. vi wasn’t joking anymore.

she was adamant about making you cum more times for her than anyone else. “vi,” you murmured, fingers threading through her hair with a soft whine. her hum vibrates through your body and curls her fingers slowly, brushing against your walls perfectly. “fuck!” you gasped, squeezing your legs around her head and grinding up against her touch. vi’s quick to remove her hand from your hip, to grip your leg, pinning it down as she fucks her fingers in and out faster, grinning around your clit with each sound you let out.

“baby, s’too much,” you moaned and gripped the back of her head. were you trying to use her away or pull her closer? you weren’t sure anymore. the grip she has on your legs gets tighter each time your legs start to tremble, to thrash around and try to move, and by the way her eyebrows pinch forward into a tight frown, and her eyes flicker up to your face, it’s a silent you’re not going anywhere. the tears well up in the corners of your eyes before you can stop them, your walls clenching tightly around her fingers with each thrust and your toes curling.

vi grins once more, her fingertips brushing your velvet walls more vigorously and she swears that seeing you lying here, panting heavily and sweating profusely, is the second hottest thing she’s ever seen. watching you cum is always first. you assumed she would be done after the third time making you cum, but as you hold her tighter you realise she’s not.

it’s at a certain thrust of her fingers that your hand grabs a fistful of hair and grinds against her tongue and fingers sloppily. “gonna cum,” you choked out, tightening around her fingers. i know, she thinks and hums around your clit. “vi, stop, i can't,” but she doesn’t, she never falters and keeps fucking you.

your eyes flutter closed, the tears slip down your face and you tremble beneath her as your fingers tugged and pulled her hair; dragging her where you needed as you fucked yourself against her mouth. vi reluctantly removes her hand from your leg, and presses it down on your stomach instead, enjoying the way your back arched into her and your mouth opened with a loud shaky moan. “vi!” you cried out, your cunt squeezing around her fingers more. “please, m’gonna cum, please,” you sobbed pathetically.

she simply hums again, somewhat nods and curls her fingers, reaching that spongy spot deep inside that you barely get time to register what’s happening; your body tenses, hands holding her head still against you as you gush over her tongue with a broken string of whimpers.

vi fucks you through your orgasm, riding you through your high before she’s withdrawing her fingers, leaving you whiny and empty, and presses a kiss to your inner thigh with a subtle grin. “so, when you’ve had water, wanna see if we can make you cum a few more times?”

[marshemillow]

Okay but you do realize the danger in saying, "This is an addiction because I feel good when I have it and I feel bad when I don't have it." right? Do you understand that that's a slippery slope invented by conservative purity culture to make people feel bad for fulfilling needs they can't fulfill in other ways?

Are there people who spend 22 hours a day watching porn even when the rest of their life is going well? Sure, of course there are, but the vast majority of people who claim to struggle with porn addiction don't actually watch more porn than the average person; They just feel worse about it. Pathologizing normal, healthy expressions of sexuality is how these high control groups get and keep members.

It's the same with "food addiction"; Yes, binge eating disorder is a real thing, but a lot of people who think they're addicted to food are actually eating way less than they should be, and their cravings are really just normal feelings of starvation. People go on extreme diets, binge because their body is screaming at them to stop starving themselves, and then they feel bad for binging like it was just lack of willpower that made them cave and they think it's their fault for not being strong enough to be "healthy."

My whole point is that this attitude comes from people believing that addiction is a moral failing, and also acting like anything that makes you feel better is an addiction by default when it's probably just a normal coping mechanism for needs you can't fulfill normally like loneliness. Yes, there are people who are addicted to phones, just like there are people with Pica who can't help but eat drywall, but the consensus right now is that there is insufficient evidence to prove that phones are addictive. Even if you could find thousands of people who were addicted to eating drywall, that's still not enough to prove that society at large needs to be worried about becoming addicted to drywall.

Honestly, genuine question; Why did you bother replying to me if you couldn't even be bothered to read everything I said? Did you just see a couple key words and assume you knew what I was saying? Do you know how frustrating it is to feel like people are misunderstanding you on purpose?

If you're actually addicted to social media, then I would say you deserve compassion and treatment for that, but don't act like these movements to label everything as an "addiction" are perfectly innocent. Even on an actually unhealthy level, taking people's phones away doesn't solve the root cause, and it does nothing good to make people feel bad for their coping mechanisms, even if it really is an addiction.

I wish it was easier to talk about mobile phone addiction without sounding like a boomer

[sematarygirls]

Okay but he’d fuck you so hard when they lose the Super Bowl after you spends an hour gloating about the eagles handing their asses to them!

i saw this request and started giggling and kicking my feet omg. anon, i owe you my first born child. you are a GENIUS! (although, fair warning, i'm not great at writing smut. i hope this is okay <3) not proofread

cw: unprotected p in v, rough sex, mean rafe, slapping, degradation

Football tended to be a touchy subject between you and Rafe. Where you were a diehard Eagles fan, he wouldn't be caught dead rooting for them. After the Chiefs narrowly beat out the Eagles in the 2023 Super Bowl, Rafe wouldn't shut up for weeks about how "trash" the Eagles were. It drove you absolutely insane.

That's why, when the Eagles absolutely kicked ass this Super Bowl in a rematch against the Chiefs, beating them out at a whopping 40-22, you thought it was your well-deserved right to rub it in Rafe's face, much to his dismay.

One thing about Rafe is that gloating is only okay when he does it—much like a lot of other things (he's a very hypocritical guy), hence his growing anger when you wouldn't stop talking about how the Chiefs absolutely threw the game with all their fumbles, making jokes the whole time about how it seemed like they weren't even playing.

Another thing about Rafe? He tended to get violent when he was angry. With other people, this meant he'd kick their asses, but with you, it meant you were in for a long night of rough fucking to make him feel better and put you in your place for your "bratty attitude."

Though, if you tried to point out the hypocrisy with him finding your actions annoying when he had done the exact same two years prior, he would only get more annoyed and very, very defensive.

You'd learned at a very early stage in your relationship that some battles were not worth fighting with Rafe, and besides, you kind of liked it when he was all rough with you, manhandling and degrading you deliciously.

"Not so mouthy now, huh?" He taunted, pounding into you from behind. Each thrust pushed you forward a little bit, your face burying further into the pillows as you moaned. A sharp slap to your ass had you gasping, the pain sending a jolt of pleasure to your core that had you practically gushing around Rafe's thick length. You didn't know how long you'd been going at this with him, but he hadn't let you cum, nor had he let up the brutal pace.

"Look at you," he sneered. "Can't even think of anything to say back to me, huh? Thought you were gonna gloat all night about how the Eagles won." His words were cruel and biting, revealing the depth of his anger, which wasn't about the football game. It was more so about being challenged, his ego hurt after talking such a big game about how the Chiefs were going to dominate.

You couldn't form a coherent sentence. Your brain turned to mush as the only thing you could focus on were his rough hands on you and his length stretching your velvety walls. You could practically feel each ridge and vein of his cock as it slid back and forth, his tip nudging your cervix roughly with each pass.

"What happened to that smart mouth, huh?" He mocked. "Your dumb little brain's too desperate for cock, huh, bunny," he cooed, his tone patronizing as he continued to pound into you with rough strokes, making your back arch and eyes roll back.

He was so mean, but you loved it.

He was right. You couldn't respond to him anymore. You had lost your ability to form a single word, dumbed down to a mess of please sounds as he hit that sweet spot inside of you so perfectly. He took that as a victory, seeing it as proof that you knew your place. He loved it when you whimpered underneath him, completely at his mercy. "Look who's behaving now. You're lucky you're so pretty, honey," he continued, enjoying this little game of his. "Otherwise, I wouldn't put up with such a bratty mouth."

"Fuuuuuck," he groaned, giving your ass another sharp smack before his hands found your hips again, his grip bordering on painful. "And this fuckin' love this pussy. Fuckin' perfect, baby."

He was getting close. You could tell by the way his pace started to falter, and his words switched from degrading to praising. One hand slipped down to your clit, rubbing firm circles. Even when he was pissed, he still tried to make you cum first.

It didn't take much more effort on his part. Your thighs were already trembling, desperate for release from the moment he'd thrown you onto the bed and ripped your clothes off.

"You're gonna be a good girl now, huh? You're gonna stop being such a pain in the ass, aren't you?" He questioned, punctuating each question with a thrust. "No more running your mouth and riling me up, right?"

"Uh huh," you whined pathetically, needy and desperate to cum.

He knew he had you right where he wanted you, all pliant and begging. "Yeah, you gonna stop talking back, huh? You can be a good little bunny for me, can't you?" He cooed, his words sounding a little bit less harsh. He was enjoying having you like this, completely at his mercy.

All you could muster was a weak nod, your fingers gripping the sheets and mouth parted in ecstacy as you reached your peak, blinding pleasure overtaking your body as your walls clamped down around his cock.

"That's it, baby, just like that," he groaned, pumping a few more times before pushing deep inside you and releasing spurts of hot, sticky cum into your eager cunt.

[finelinevogue]

i’m right here

summary - you’re constantly worried about Aaron after a dreadful attack

pairing - aaron hotchner x pregnant!reader

word count - ~1k

You were a little bit emotional to say the least.

If you were to perfectly describe it; You felt a wreck. You were sad and insecure, but you were also hopeful and happy. You were anxious and upset, but you were also relaxed and safe. You were worried and scared, but you were also comfortable and okay.

Feelings were already a lot to deal with, but add in a pregnancy and your emotional baggage will become ten times worse.

Like now, for example.

You felt so warm and safe in bed with your husband, but you were also so damn anxious and sad.

You stared at the wall as you slept on your side, tiny tears dripping from the corners of your eyes.

The room was warm and the bed was comfortable. Aaron was tucked in safely on the other side of the bed. You had started the night with Aaron right behind you, cuddling you like he always does, but he ha drifted away in the night and you really missed him.

He was 20 centimetres away and you missed him.

You looked at the picture on your nightstand. It was a picture of Aaron and Jack, framed in a batman themed frame because that’s what Jack had picked out.

It was taken only weeks before Aaron had been stabbed 9 times, alone, in his apartment, around the early stages of your relationship with him.

2 years on and the incident still scares you.

You blew out a short breath, blinking back the tears, when you felt Aaron’s hand come around your waist. His body slid right back up against yours and his chin rested on your shoulder, but not before leaving a kiss there.

“I’m right here.” He whispered, making your tears spill even more.

Your hand came to rest upon his hand that was on your stomach, stroking calming lines across your swollen belly.

You couldn’t find the words to reply.

“You know, I was just dreaming about you.”

You swallowed back the tears with a smile, rolling your eyes at his silliness. Whatever he was doing was working though.

“Pretty sure I dreamt you were a pirate or something.”

You chuckled at that, thinking that he was going to make up some really lovely dream story but remind you there was nothing better than having the real version of you right there in his arms. Instead he was honest about how he was still dreaming about you as a pirate and had been ever since you dressed as a pirate for halloween.

“You, like always, were on my mind,” Aaron kissed your shoulder again, “But what’s on yours?”

You shook your head, “Nothing good.”

Aaron’s other arm snook underneath your body so he could help carefully turn you around in his hold.

His heart broke a little when he saw how teary and puffy your eyes were. You had clearly been upset for a while but hadn’t wanted to bother him.

“Y/N…” He whispered, cupping a hand on your cheek and wiping your tears. “Talk to me.”

His brows furrowed like he was angry at whatever, or whoever, had made you sad. He had felt ridiculously overprotective ever since he had found out you were pregnant and seeing you cry was the worse sin there was.

“You’re here.” You said softly.

Aaron nodded carefully.

Your hand slowly moved underneath his pyjama t-shirt and traced over the jagged edges of his scars. You knew exactly where each of them were on his chest and you move efficiently between them to count them all again.

Aaron let you do what you needed to do.

After the events of that fateful need 2 years ago, you and Aaron had gone to therapy together to talk through it all. Aaron had found out there that you needed to touch the scars from time-to-time to make sure that they were all sealed and healed. You needed a physical reminder that he was okay now.

If anyone else touched him the way you were then he would feel so uncomfortable and exposed. With you, he felt safe and grounded.

“You need to try and sleep. Get some rest, before trouble comes.” Aaron suggested.

“I c-can’t.”

“Why, sweetheart?”

“In case he comes back. I need to keep you safe.” You said.

“Y/N.” Aaron’s frown softened, finally understanding the reason for your upset.

You were so worried about something bad happening again that it was keeping you up. Aaron needed as much rest as possible with such a stressful job, so you decided you’d take charge of night-watch.

“I need to. I can’t…. I…” You were getting yourself worked up again.

“Look at me.” Aaron’s voice forced you to look his way, “I am right here. Jack is next door. We’re all here and we’re all safe, that much I can promise you.”

“But…” You hiccuped.

Aaron shook his head, “We’re okay. We got the bad guy, we always do.”

“I just.. I keep thinking how alone you must’ve felt…” You cried, “A-and I was out at a-a bar.”

Aaron smiled at you.

“I wasn’t alone.” Aaron picked up your hand gently and rested it over his heart, “You were right here. So was Jack. You both got me through it - all of it.”

You gave out another cry and Aaron knew then that you would be okay, you just needed to understand that he was here now and he was okay.

He brought you closer to him, tucking your head beneath his chin and holding you close against him. He made sure there was room for your bump between you both and cradled you tight.

“I’m right here. I’m safe.” Aaron repeated mindless phrases to you to remind you of the present.

He was okay. You and Jack were okay. You’d all be okay in the end.

[jiminomenon]

model! karina cheers assistant! reader up

pairing: model! karina x assistant! female reader

word count: 1k+

summary: y/n was having an absolutely miserable morning, and everyone—including jimin—felt the effects of her foul mood. snapping at people left and right, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone, but of course, jimin had other plans. unwilling to deal with a sulky assistant all day, the spoiled model took it upon herself to fix y/n’s mood—whether she wanted her to or not.

from my series: the devil wears prada

y/n knew it was going to be a bad day the moment she woke up. her alarm didn’t go off, meaning she had to rush through her morning routine. her coffee machine—her lifeline—refused to work. then, as if the universe was out to get her, she stepped outside only to be met with pouring rain and no umbrella. by the time she arrived at jimin’s penthouse, drenched, exhausted, and running purely on frustration, she was already dangerously close to losing her patience.

“you’re late,” jimin commented, lounging on the couch with a cup of steaming coffee in her perfectly manicured hands. she didn’t even need coffee that morning; she just liked the aesthetic of holding it.

y/n shot her a sharp glare as she squeezed water out of her sleeves. “gee, thanks for the observation, sherlock.”

jimin raised an eyebrow at the attitude but didn’t say anything. yet.

the day only got worse from there. y/n had back-to-back calls, urgent emails, and a schedule to fix because someone (cough jimin cough) decided she didn’t feel like attending a certain shoot last minute. every little inconvenience grated on her nerves, and soon, she found herself snapping at anyone who so much as looked at her the wrong way.

even the model herself.

“ugh, can you stop hovering?” y/n snapped when jimin followed her into the kitchen, watching her struggle to open a stubborn bottle of water.

jimin, who usually had a snarky comeback for everything, simply tilted her head. “you’re in a bad mood.”

“no shit.”

instead of getting annoyed like usual, jimin just hummed. “hmm. i don’t like this.”

y/n scoffed. “well, i don’t like today, but here we are.”

jimin didn’t leave her alone after that. in fact, she made it her mission to pester y/n. during meetings, she’d text her ridiculous things like ‘what if i got bangs? do u think i’d look hotter?’ or ‘i saw a dog today. it was ugly. reminded me of you.’ ‘go get princess that new limited edition cat dress from givenchy’

when that didn’t work, she started physically annoying her—poking her arm, pulling on the sleeve of her blazer, even stealing her pen when she was trying to write something down.

“jimin, i swear to god—”

“oh, look at that. you’re saying my name now instead of ‘ms. yu.’ progress!” jimin smirked.

y/n groaned, rubbing her temples. “what do you want?”

“you, but less grumpy.”

“not happening.”

jimin gasped dramatically. “so mean. what happened to my lovely assistant?”

“she’s dead. may she rest in peace.”

but of course, jimin never knew how to give up. later in the afternoon, she disappeared for a while, only to return holding—of all things—y/n’s favorite pastry from that overpriced bakery she always talked about.

y/n blinked. “where did you get that?”

“doesn’t matter.” jimin placed it in front of her. “eat it.”

y/n frowned. “why are you being nice?”

jimin rolled her eyes. “i’m always nice.”

y/n snorted. “you’re never nice.”

“and yet, here i am, doing charity work by cheering up my grumpy little assistant.”

y/n stared at her, then at the pastry, then back at her. ugh. she hated to admit it, but… it was kind of sweet. with a sigh, she finally took a bite.

jimin watched her expectantly. “better?”

y/n chewed, pretending to think. “eh. a little.”

jimin smirked. “knew it.”

y/n shook her head but couldn’t fight the small smile forming on her lips. maybe today wasn’t completely terrible. as much as y/n hated to admit it, jimin’s efforts were helping. just a little. but she wasn’t about to give the bratty model that satisfaction so easily.

jimin, however, was relentless.

“so,” jimin started as she plopped down onto the couch beside y/n, far too close for comfort. “what else do i have to do to make you stop sulking? want me to book you a vacation? buy you a new car? oh, wait—maybe you want me to drive you around in said car. imagine that, ms. assistant, getting chauffeured by me.”

y/n shot her a deadpan look. “why do you sound like a rich old man trying to solve his problems with money?”

jimin gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in fake offense. “how dare you? i am far from an old man.”

“you have the attitude of one.”

jimin narrowed her eyes. “you really are in a mood today.”

y/n sighed and leaned back, rubbing her temples. “look, i appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but i just… i need some space, okay?”

jimin frowned. she didn’t like that answer. not one bit. y/n was hers to annoy, to pester, to keep close—space was not part of their arrangement. but instead of voicing her complaints, she stayed quiet for a moment, thinking.

then, out of nowhere, she got up and disappeared into the other room. y/n didn’t think much of it at first—jimin was unpredictable like that. but a few minutes later, she returned with something in her hands.

a blanket.

before y/n could ask, jimin tossed it over her, making sure it covered her entire body.

“…what are you doing?” y/n mumbled from under the fabric.

“i’m tucking you in. obviously.”

“tucking me in? i’m not a child.”

jimin scoffed. “well, you’re acting like one.”

y/n huffed, but she was too exhausted to argue. the weight of the blanket was warm and oddly comforting. she peered up at jimin, who was looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

“…why are you being nice?” y/n finally asked.

jimin crossed her arms. “you’re annoying when you’re in a bad mood. and if this is what it takes to make you stop being annoying, then fine. i’ll allow it.”

y/n gave her a look. “wow. you really suck at being genuine.”

“and yet, here i am, taking care of your grumpy ass,” jimin quipped back.

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the tiny smile tugging at her lips. she sighed, finally letting the tension melt from her shoulders. maybe jimin’s ways were unconventional, but at the end of the day, she did make her feel better.

“thanks, i guess,” y/n muttered, barely audible.

jimin smirked. “huh? what was that?”

y/n groaned, pulling the blanket over her face. “don’t push it, yu.”

but the way jimin’s smirk softened into something almost fond did not go unnoticed.

“just rest for now, m’kay? be in a better mood when you wake up.”

[blond3ang3l]

Hanging with plug! Connie

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

You and Connie knew each other for the last couple years. Having met him through your ex boyfriend since the two of them were homeboys, it was an unlikely friendship that grew between the two of you. People did tell him it was fucked to be hanging with the ex of a friend. He KNEW it was fucked up to his homeboy, but to be fair you were just more enjoyable to be around.

He felt like when he hung around other friends they always wanted something out of him or wanted to use him as a way to shoe off they were “down”. You were just chill and treated him like did everyone else, and that why he fucked with you. He didn’t mind doing shit for you even though you always objected. You were perfectly capable of doing and paying for you guys whenever yall went out but he always insisted.

When y’all first started to hang out one on one he expected it to be like how he was with everyone else. Just hanging in his car or his room and just smoking for hours. He was fried if he thought that all you would do is sit and smoke all day. Once in a while was whatever but you wanted to get out the house once in a while and having Connie go with you was a no brainer.

“Stay yo ass still nigga. You gonna have me fuck you up and then you gonna be mad.” Connie snorted in response while rolling his eyes. He had came over to our place at here in the morning because after arching. Few YouTube videos and tik toks you were convinced that you could cut, bleach, and dye hair. Now the dying his hair wasn’t the problem it was he cutting part, because you ad no clue what you were doing.

“Don’t fuck me up now. I don’t wanna walk around with damn bald spot or sumthin.” You snickered while taking the guard off the razor. Turning around you rubbed the mirror that laid on your nightstand to pass to him. “I think I did pretty damn good right Con?” Looking into the mirror he was surprised to see you actually did a really good job. You didn’t even know it but you were now about to be his personal barber. “ S’ alright.” “Alright??”

Connies arm wrapped around you waist to pull you in front of him while he laughed. I’m fuckin with you. you did good for a first time. Guess I’ll let you try again another time.” He took his phone out his pocket and pulled up Pinterest (which you got him addicted to) and pulled up his board of different styles of art for you to try after bleaching his hair.

“Now go through this and pick what you’re gonna do on me.” “Do I look like an artist to you?” He shrugged without a care in the world. “Well you gonna learn today.” You rolled your eyes but still happily made your way to your bathroom to get your hair dye…

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

[overadores]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ shifting heart ୨ৎ megan skiendiel

What we have is immortal

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 mystique!megan x quicksilver!reader ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 headcanons!

.ᐟ cw: , injuries, violence, childhood friends to lovers, kissing

Hello, Dear. Did someone call for a rescue?

‧₊˚ ⋅ mystique!megan where as kids, you two were inseparable—partners in crime, always exploring, always dreaming, but while she shapeshifted with ease, your powers remained dormant. one rainy afternoon, seeing you frustrated, she transformed into famous heroes, pulling silly impressions. "Maybe you're a late bloomer," she grinned, shifting into you perfectly. "but power or not, you're already special." her words stuck, and as you laughed through the gloom, hope flickered—because if she believed in you, maybe you could too.

‧₊˚ ⋅ mystique!megan where she knew the weight in your heart, the ache left by a mother long gone. so, when the world felt too heavy, when even speed couldn’t outrun the pain, she shifted—soft eyes, familiar warmth, the arms you missed. "It’s okay, my love," she whispered, stroking your hair, "I’ve got you." In that moment, she wasn’t just Mystique. she was comfort, home—a fleeting illusion, yet the only truth you needed and for now, that was enough.

‧₊˚ ⋅ mystique!megan who always looked out for you, even when your speed first kicked in and left you crashing into walls then one day, she shifted into Logan, arms crossed, gruff expression and all, standing at the end of the field. “Alright, hotshot. try again.” You sprinted—too fast, too soon—and tripped, but before you could hit the ground, she caught you effortlessly. “Told you I got you,” she smirked, shifting back. you laughed breathlessly. “Yeah, yeah. Show-off.”

‧₊˚ ⋅ mystique!megan where she plays hide and seek with you, but she changes into someone that's not inside the room and you would get frustrated, so you just let her win (she just loves winning).

‧₊˚ ⋅ mystique!megan who started falling for you when the two of you started training for x-men.

‧₊˚ ⋅ mystique!megan who has a bad habit of shifting into you just to mess with the others, and today was no different. she had snuck up on Sophia, making her shriek and nearly drop whatever she was carrying and by the time you walked in, Megan was back to her normal self, lounging on the sofa, barely holding in her laughter. Suddenly, Sophia stormed toward you, yelling, "Don’t scare me again!" You just stood there, utterly baffled, while Megan cackled uncontrollably.

‧₊˚ ⋅ mystique!megan that shifts into that person whenever she gets jealous and asks if you like them (which you always answer no.)

‧₊˚ ⋅ mystique!megan where the two of you are the unstoppable duo on the battlefield. while others strategized, you two simply moved—fluid, instinctive, lethal. you’d sprint ahead in a blur, disorienting enemies before she shifted right in front of them, striking with precision. they never saw it coming. whether it was infiltration or all-out combat, you and her always had each other’s backs, wordlessly syncing like a perfectly executed plan.

‧₊˚ ⋅ mystique!megan as you geared up for the dangerous mission with Logan, Megan found you in the dimly lit corridor, her usual confidence replaced by nervous energy. "Just in case," she murmured, voice softer than you'd ever heard it, "I need you to know—I like you." And for once, you were speechless. She laughed, shaking her head. "Figures. You never shut up until now." A beat passed before you grinned. "Guess I’ll have to come back, then."

‧₊˚ ⋅ mystique!megan where she taught you how to play games whenever there's no mission.

‧₊˚ ⋅ mystique!megan who loves messing with you, shifting into Charles, Erik, or even Logan just to get a reaction, but you were always one step ahead. "Spell 'necessary,'" you would say, arms crossed. her—still in disguise—would huff, mumbling, "N-e-s-e...s...a—ugh!" you smirked. "Nice try, babe." defeated, Mystique morphed back, pouting. "One day, I'll get you." you only chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "Not if your spelling doesn't improve first." And despite the teasing, she secretly loved that you always knew her.

‧₊˚ ⋅ mystique!megan when she saw you go down, a sharp cry escaping her lips. the shot to your arm sent you tumbling near a wrecked car, motionless. panic surged through her veins as she shifted into an unassuming bystander, rushing to your side. dragging you behind cover, she pressed a hand to your wound. “Stay with me,” she whispered.

‧₊˚ ⋅ mystique!megan who swayed to the rhythm, completely lost in her own world, her movements fluid and full of joy. she twirled, oblivious to your quiet presence by the door. as she struck a final pose, you clapped. she yelped, spinning around with wide eyes. “You’re back early,” she muttered, cheeks flushed and you just smiled.

‧₊˚ ⋅ mystique!megan who loves cuddling you after every mission.

‧₊˚ ⋅ mystique!megan grabbed you collar, crashing her lips against yourss in a desperate, bruising kiss. it was raw, filled with unspoken fears and unacknowledged goodbyes. when she pulled away, her voice wavered. "Just in case." and you smiled at her softly, brushing a thumb over her cheek. "I'll be back before you even miss me."

a/n: i enjoyed making this lmao (always love childhood friends to lovers trope)

[bbyg4rl]

reader getting all hot and bothered watching jj fix her car

thank you for fixing my car JJ

cw: jj x reader, no established relationship, oral (m receiving) !

summary: you thank jj for fixing your car.

a/n: this was supposed to be a small blurb but i got carried away lol hope you like this anon ♡

"you should let me take care of your car more" JJ speaks out from where he was hunched over your car's open hood. You had been watching him for fifteen minutes now. Fifteen minutes of the best view in obx. Fifteen minutes of grunts and pants and back and abs and arms. What a view.

You were sure the oil from your car ruining jj's shirt was just the universe blessing you. It's not everyday you can sit and watch a shirtless jj work.

"all done dumbass" he says pushing the hood of your car down with a loud grunt. Your eyes refuse to leave the sight of his arms as the muscles flex.

"Oh wow" you whisper to yourself, taking mental polaroids of every movement he makes.

Not a word leaves your mouth when he faces you. Your pussy's doing the talking now.

You can't help but rub your thighs together when he shoots you a shit eating grin all covered in grease and oil.

And of course he notices the affect he's having on you. He was enjoying this too.

Why else would a two minute fix take fifteen minutes? Why else would a perfectly fine oil sump shoot oil all of a sudden? That too only on his shirt?

Seeing you all worked up over had him worked up. He had his eyes on you the whole time. He'd seen every lip bite, every clench of your thighs, every flutter of your stomach- he was feeling everything you were feeling.

It took a special kind of control for him not to take you right there. To resist dirtying you with his greasy hands and bathe you in engine oil as he bent you over the hood and slid in and out of you.

He walked over to you slowly, his greasy hands now on your knees. "No 'thank you JJ'?"

"Thank you JJ" You say to him softly, voice on the verge of whimpers. You knew that he knew what you were feeling.

He takes a step back and points to himself. "Look at me baby- a small thank you isnt gonna cut it now is it?"

He takes your hand and pulls you off your seat. Your knees felt like jelly as he led you to the back seat of your car. He opened the door and you slid into the seat, earning a chuckle from him. He slides in after you and closes the door.

"Thank you for fixing my car JJ" you giggle out as your hands reach the hem of his shorts, He groans when you palm his crotch a few times before pulling them down.

You're quickly met with his cock, standing proud in front of your face. You wrap your arms around him and give him a few slow strokes. It's only fair he deserved to feel good after all the hard work he had just done.

He pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail with his hand and tugs you lower, silently ordering you to open up. And you gladly did. He pushed your face lower and lower as his dick twitched in your throat.

He held you down for a few more moments before using his grip on your hair to bob your head up and down on him. He hit the back of your throat with every rutt of his dick against you. Your mascara ran down your cheeks as he continued to fuck your mouth with his cock.

He pulls you off when hes satisfied with how much mascara is smeared on your face. He taps your cheek a few times- his silent code for please me.

You take his signal and reach out to stroke him, wrapping your mouth around his pink tip, You slowly suck as you tighten your hands around his shaft, twisting them around his girth, alternating between small kitten licks on his tip and long licks on the veins on his underside.

It didnt take long for him to reach his climax. He let out small whimpers as he paints your face with his cum.

"Thank you for fixing my car JJ" you say again as you lap up at the sticky liquid around your lips.

check out my other works ! masterlist

[zepskies]

All righty, here we go, diving into more of the angsty love triangle!! *rubs hands together* 😈

However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Oooh my God, poor Dean. 🫣 This is literally torture for him! lol

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you.

I had a feeling this was why he insisted on her living in the room next to his, our big protective man, but now it's coming back to bite him in the ass. 💀

He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

Sobbbiiiiiingggg -- oh Dean. 😭😭

It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

God Dean! You can only bury your emotions under assholery and anger for so long. He can hate the fact that she's a hunter and want more for her, but he has to accept that it's her choice, and he can support her and be honest with her rather than succumbing to his assholery. 🥲🥲

But of course, his "I'm not worthy" mentality crops up as well. 🙃 Makes you want to throttle him (if in more than one way lmao)!!

The thought that he was suffering so much while trying to find her when she was in another world is also heartbreakingly on-brand for him. He'd so be tearing through every piece of lore and resource to try and get her back. 😭

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother. Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

💀💀💀 Come on now, Dean, don't be petty. 🤣

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted." But I do want her.

TELL HIM, SAM. SHAKE HIM UNTIL HIS GREEN EYES ROLL INTO HIS HEAD -- make him see how he's acting!! lol

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Gahhh pain. so very pain, even though it hurts so good. 😭😭😭

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

Omggg finally!! Finally Dean's being honest about how he feels without being a dick about it. 😪

But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Ughhh such soul-rendering description, and the spice here is oh so delicious. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

But I have to point out that the reading is having a DAY loll. Two beefcakes in one night?? 😏

(Also, I'm afraid of how Ben is gonna take this. 😬)

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Oh sure, pretend she meant nothing to you to spare your deep-down man feelings. 🙄

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

LMAOO Ben vs. Technology -- I think we all know who's winning. 🤣

And Ben secretly liking therapy just so he just has someone to vent to for an hour? Be still my heart, honestly. 😭

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield. He thought it was cute.

OMGGGGG I'M WEEAAAAK -- and he's already clocking IT girl's cuteness, I'm dead. 😂💞 The way he's already starting to like her better? I see what you did there. 😉

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

ahaha you charmer, you. 😂 A swoon-worthy line, even if we do know how sleazy this man can be lol. She really has no idea what she's getting into with this guy, but I love to imagine that with this nicely wrapped up ending! 💕💕

Part 3: Why Is It A Big Deal?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader

POV: Dean POV, Reader POV, Soldier Boy/Ben POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Enemies to Lovers, Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST, Crossover

Word Count: 12.4K (I PROMISE I DIDN'T MEAN TO)

Listen While You Read: Treat You Better By Shawn Mendes

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing, Making Out, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Jealousy, A little homophobia (it’s Soldier Boy), Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It's finally here! I have loved the return to this universe more than words can describe. Each of the POV's are crazy in their own way. And again, don't forget to read the fic "Stranded" by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this series in the first place! ENJOY!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean POV

Dean leaned back on his bed at the bunker and jammed the pillow further down around his ears over his headphones. He was listening to a mixtape that he had burned forever ago, chosen because it had the loudest drum solos blaring through his Walkman. However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Dean had tried his best to get Sam on his side when he proposed the idea that Ben didn't have to come back to the bunker and instead should be sent be sent back to wherever the hell he came from right then and there, but Cas was still out doing whatever it was he was doing, which meant that Ben was going to stick around for a little longer.

And it meant that Ben was finally getting his wish… you.

Dean's teeth gritted together when he heard another moan over the sound of the cymbals and felt a white hot spike of something in the pit of his stomach burn through his body.

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you. But other than the time you stubbed your toe and Dean kicked down the door when he heard you yell with his gun drawn, there hadn't been an emergent situation that required his help.

Right now he was regretting the decision to have you live next door wholeheartedly, because it meant that he was having a front row seat to everything Ben and you were doing in your bedroom.

Dean sighed, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried not to imagine what was happening, but he kept having flashes skate across his mind. He didn't want to see what it looked like or sounded like to have Ben's name tumbling from your lips, all Dean wanted was to hear you say his name like that and to be the one making you fall apart beneath him.

Not some asshole from another universe.

The image of you laying under him back at the school came back to him in a wave, pushing away the revulsion momentarily. He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He hadn't even made love to you and you laying there on top of you felt more intimate than any experience he'd had in his life. Dean wanted to exist in that moment with you a little longer, to savor those last few seconds of you staring up at him as if he was the only person in the world.

The memory of Ben kissing you after followed. Dean remembered the way Ben's lips roughly took from you and the way he held on to your face and it snapped Dean out of it. It hurt him more that you let Ben kiss you after Dean had been the one to save you.

Fuck.

His teeth gritted hard together so tight that he heard them grind. He hated watching you with Ben, hated watching Ben do the one thing that Dean had wanted to do for years. And Dean also hated the way that Ben treated you, as if you were something to be possessed and showed off, as if you weren't smart or anything more than just beautiful.

Dean had known from the first moment he saw you in Ellen's bar years ago that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life. You were funny, kind, sarcastic, and had a hard edge that you'd developed after years of being a hunter, but there was something else, a softer side of you that you didn't let everyone see, something hidden beneath it all that you only allowed yourself to have whenever Sam was around, but never with Dean.

It made him hate his brother a little bit, seeing how effortlessly the two of you had developed a friendship, while Dean had to practically Heimlich you to talk to him.

Dean wanted to see that side of you so badly. He wanted you to smile at him the soft way you smiled at Sam, and wanted you to laugh at his jokes or tease him playfully about his hair or about what he was wearing that day the way he'd seen you with his brother.

He tried to find reasons to be in the same room as you, drifting to sit nearby while you read or watched a movie. You always seemed different then. Your body was relaxed, open, with just a hint of a smile curving on the edge of your lips that made Dean want to stare at you for the rest of his life.

He tried to make you laugh whenever he could and tried his best to impress you, but each time he did you'd only roll your eyes and make a sarcastic comment. You didn't like him, Dean knew that, but he wished you did.

Sure he was maybe a little harsh on you sometimes, but Dean didn't want anything to happen to you, he was trying to protect you, because he knew the moment he stopped caring so much would be the moment he lost you.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

He hadn't felt like this about anyone else ever, and he didn't know what to do with his feelings. Bottling them up only seemed to hurt him more, but whenever something happened on a hunt or you tried to split away from him and Sam, he panicked and said things that he shouldn't instead of the three little words that he'd been wanting to say to you for years.

That's what happened a few weeks ago on a hunt, when you went into a house alone and faced a poltergeist that threw you across the room and into a glass cabinet. Dean had stood there yelling at you trying to tell you how stupid it had been for you to go in alone, while biting back what he really wanted to say- that he couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you because looking at you was like watching the fireflies along a misty road at dusk, each one lighting a path in the darkness that showed him the way.

Yes he was angry, but all Dean saw was the bloody ripped sleeve of your shirt, and the way your face had contorted in pain when Sam picked you up and helped you back to the car. It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

The truth was he hated that this was your life, hated that you were a hunter and each day you put yourself in danger, because he believed you deserved more. You deserved a normal life with someone who loved you, maybe a few kids, a dog, and a life far from the world that Dean and you knew so well.

Of course the thought of you with anyone else made Dean want to put his fist through a wall. The problem was even though Dean wanted you, he believed that you deserved better than him. You deserved the white picket fence and suburbia, not a darkened bunker underground with a man who wasn't sure he still had anything good left.

It was the reason why he didn't want to tell you how he felt, that, and Dean believed you absolutely hated him and hated being around him in the first place. It's why he buried it beneath the surface for so long.

However, when he was looking at you Dean often forgot the things that happened to him. You made him want to keep getting back up to fight if not for anyone else, for you.

But then Ben had shown up.

When you'd gotten dragged to another universe, Dean had tried everything in his power to get you back. He'd screamed and prayed for Cas so loud and so many times he went hoarse, he'd looked through almost every book he knew of to find the spell to bring you back to no avail, tried several rituals that promised results but gave him nothing, looked at his computer screen for so long that it made him cross-eyed, and drank coffee so strong it made his heart race.

But all Dean knew was that you were somewhere else alone, where he couldn't get to you or protect you, and it made him sick. He hated the thought of you alone trying to fight your way to survival in a place like the Endverse. When Cas finally came five days later and helped Dean bring you back, Dean had been so happy to see you that he'd almost hugged you, but instead he'd made an off-brand joke and you'd run into Sam's arms for a hug that made his chest tight.

Dean thought that he was having a nightmare when he saw Ben, a man who looked so much like himself, stride into the motel room confidently and kiss you. Dean was waiting for you to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you didn't, you liked it. And judging by the sounds Dean was hearing through the wall he could see that you wanted Ben.

All it did was piss Dean off that another version of himself got to have you and he didn't. Not when he'd known you longer and you'd only known Ben for five days.

Five fucking days. She's known that asshole for five days and she likes him. She's known you for years and she can't even stand to be in the same room with you.

The thought made Dean's heart clench in his chest. He didn't understand what Ben had that he didn’t have, he was him after all as Dean kept saying over and over to you. But Dean knew that deep down the real thing he was telling you over and over was not that Ben was him, but rather was asking the question: "why not me?"

Does she really hate me that much that she can't stand the thought of being with me? That she can stand to be with someone who looks exactly like me, but can't stay in a room with me for more than ten seconds?

Dean gets out of bed, stomps out the door, and down the hallway towards the library to try and escape the sounds coming from your room. They vibrate down the hall after him, like a flock of seagulls, mocking him all the way and doing little to ease the anger and jealousy swirling beneath his skin.

Sam is sitting in a chair with a large volume in front of him and a piece of notebook paper scribbling furiously when Dean enters the library, but he doesn't appear surprised to see his brother.

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother.

Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

Sam gives him a sympathetic look, and pushes his long hair back behind his ears. "Sorry. I'm researching a case in Kentucky, but Cas said that he'd be back in a few hours-"

"He said that ages ago! I want that asshole gone now." Dean's hand tightens on the arm of the chair, so tight that his knuckles are white.  He was happy that the library seemed to be far enough away from your room to escape the noise, but he knew it was happening, which didn’t help at all. "I don’t understand what she sees in that dick."

Sam hesitates for a moment, tapping his pen against the notebook paper.

"Just spit it out Sammy." Dean sighs.

"He might be an asshole to you, but not to her." He replies simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Well you're kinda…" Sam shrugs and leans back into his chair trying to find the words.

"I'm kinda what?"

"You’re kinda a dick to her." He finishes. "She's getting fed up with it. The other day she told me that she's been thinking about moving out and going back on her own. I've been trying to talk her out of it-"

Dean's blood ran cold. He hated the thought of you leaving again, it meant that he wouldn't know where you were or if you were alive and he wouldn't be able to make sure you were prepared for a hunt or at least be there to have your back if something went wrong- because let's face it, something always went wrong. "What? What the hell are you taking about?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she hasn't made up her mind."

"But why?"

"Because ever since the first time we’ve been going on hunts with her, you’ve been rude and-"

Dean interrupts his brother with a shout. "What? Do you expect me to hold her fucking hand? We’ve seen experienced hunters get killed out there with one simple mistake! And she’s just some amateur-"

"Dean, she's not an amateur." Sam sighs as if he can't understand why Dean was being so difficult.

He was. Sam was used to it whenever the subject of you came up in front of Dean, but honestly his brother's stubborn attitude when it came to you was annoying him.

"She is!" Dean snaps back wishing that he had a beer.

"No, she’s not." Sam shakes his head. "She’s been doing this just as long as we have. You know who her mom was and you know that her mom was just as hard on her as our dad was on you-"

At the mention of their father, Dean can feel his jaw tighten, memories flashing across his mind that he wanted to forget. The cold feeling of disapproval begins to creep up his spine to his shoulders, but Dean shakes it off. "That doesn’t matter."

"I think it does."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, Dean you keep saying that he’s you, but I'm starting to think that she's you."

"You need to stop using all those hair products Sammy, they're messing with your head-" Dean scoffs.

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted."

But I do want her.

The thought rises before Dean could stop it and he wonders if you'd spent all these years thinking that he didn't want you around when it was all he thought about. Every decision he made was to try and protect you, to put you first, and the thought that you didn't see that hurt him.

"I'd never hurt her-" Dean's voice comes out a little softer and more broken than he meant it to, catching slightly on the words.

Sam shakes his head. "Not physically. But the two of you have been doing this for years and I think that she's sick of you treating her the way you do and then she met Ben. She met another version of you who appreciates her. I know that you’re a little jealous-"

"I am not jealous!" Dean says on instinct, but Sam knows the truth, he's always known the truth, and Dean knows it too.

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother. "You should talk to her. Take Ben out of it and talk to her the way you talk to other people."

"I talk to her like I talk to other people." Dean grumbles as he gets up out of his chair intent on going to the kitchen to get a beer or something stronger to take the edge off.

"No you don't. So go talk to her." Sam waves a hand in Dean's direction before his gaze drops back down to the book.

"She's kinda preoccupied." Dean mutters under his breath and the image of you and Ben tangled up in your bed makes him flinch.

Sam looks up at his brother again, sympathy flashing in his eyes. "Dean-"

"Just leave me alone Sammy."

And with that he turns and makes his way towards the kitchen, hoping that he won't be able to hear Ben and you, and wishing that you hadn't met Ben in the first place.

Reader POV

Ben mutters something in his sleep, rolling his body towards yours so close that his muscular right arm brushes against your bare shoulder. He was laying on his stomach, his face pressed into one of your many pillows, snoring softly, and taking up most of your bed.

It wasn't hard to. The full sized bed was hardly big enough for you, let alone two people, especially not someone as tall and broad as Ben. Which became more obvious when you noticed that Ben's feet were hanging off the end.

You sigh, laying on your back and staring up at the cracks in your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You followed each one with your eyes, tracing the shapes they made like someone watching the clouds on a hill bathed in sunlight. You'd thought that after everything Ben and you did for the past two hours you'd be able to fall asleep as easily as he did, but you couldn't because your mind was awake and roaming everywhere it could.

It wasn't that you hadn't had a good time with Ben or hadn't wanted to have sex with him. Ben didn't force you into anything. You wanted to have sex with him. You had missed him and it had been a while for you, and you liked Ben. The problem was that now, after, there was an odd feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, something that felt surprisingly like guilt.

I have nothing to be guilty about.

You chide yourself, hands curling and uncurling on the edge of the blanket the longer you stared up at the ceiling. But it was still there, bubbling up beneath the surface. Your mind kept slipping back into the memory of Dean and you in the broken auditorium.

Each time you closed your eyes you were back in Dean's arms, looking up at him while he pushed your hair out of your face and asked you if you were alright, his eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like worry. He'd never acted gentle or caring like that before with you and you still felt odd from everything that happened.

Fuck. What is happening to me? I just spent the last two hours with Ben, I shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else but-

You sigh again and shut your eyes, but it just brings the image back to haunt you.

You hadn't had any thoughts like this about Dean, not ever, and you didn't know why now. You'd spent years thinking that he was a big jerk who hated you, but the Dean you saw earlier today was far from that.

In the past, Dean had your back a few times, but it hadn't been like earlier. He'd never held you close, covered you with his body as if he didn't care what happened to himself as long as you were safe, and he'd never brushed your hair away with such tenderness it made your heart flutter in your chest.

No. Dean has been a total dick from the moment I met him, he hates me, he-

The thought stutters to a stop when the hurt and jealousy in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben comes flashing back through your mind.

Does he? Or did I just interpret that wrong? Maybe it was just the hatred he had towards Ben flaring but… why does he hate Ben? He has no reason to.

But despite everything that Dean had done to you over the years, you didn't hate him.

Even though he tap danced on your last nerve whenever he opened his mouth and often made you feel stupid you couldn't, not when you saw the way he cared so much for other people. Dean Winchester was selfless, he always put other people first and was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant someone else got to be happy and got to live.

You glance at the man lying in the bed next to you. Ben was handsome and strong. He possessed some of the qualities of Dean that you found attractive, but he treated you differently. It was what drew you to him when you got trapped in Ben's reality, not just that he looked like Dean, but that Ben joked with you, teased you, and he seemed to generally care about you.

Dean didn't act that way with you. At least, you'd never seen Dean act that way before today. Today was different than any other day and you wished that it hadn't been.

Ben mutters something else, and this time he leans more towards you, his arm coming up around your waist to hold you against his side. The warmth and weight of it was familiar, but it made the feeling of guilt grow larger in your stomach.

Why is this happening? I didn’t feel guilty the last time I had sex with him.

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Before he'd drifted off Ben had asked you to come with him when Cas sent him back to where he was from, said that he wanted you there with him. You had an inkling that it was the first time that Ben had asked something so serious from a woman. But you weren't convinced that it was because Ben wanted to have a relationship, rather that he didn't want to be alone.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't considering it. Ben was kinder to you, gentle (in his own way), and he seemed to appreciate having you around. But there was something holding you back.

At first you thought it was Sam. He was your best friend and you didn't want to abandon him, but there was another feeling, an ache deep down that you didn't know the cause of. Other than Sam there really wasn't anything in this universe that would hold you back from going with Ben, but obviously there was, you just couldn't figure out what.

Sure Ben's reality was fucked up… yours was too. Demons and Angels duking it out for supremacy while other creatures hid under beds and in the dark to kill people or worse wasn’t ideal either. But you weren't sure what your life could look like there. There wasn't anything to hunt which meant you'd probably be dealing with supes instead and the thought wasn’t appealing. You weren't sure that you belonged in his world.

Maybe I should have asked him to stay with me?

The thought made you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd been thinking about moving out of the bunker. Yes it was the only permanent home you'd ever known, but Dean was getting on your nerves and you thought that maybe you should get a little bit of distance from him. Moving out and Ben staying meant that he could come with you on hunts, but you weren't sure that was the solution either. Ben was strong and brave, but you weren't sure that he had the precision or the delicate side you needed when approaching a hunt to do well here.

It was these thoughts that were keeping you awake and you decide to get some water to clear them.

You slowly begin to slip out from under the covers, gently moving Ben's arm off of you as slowly as you can as to not wake him before you make your way to your dresser to find a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. Ben sighs and shifts in the bed, the sheets pulling down just a little bit so you can admire the expanse of his freckled muscular back.

You'd seen Dean shirtless before once. He had come running out of his room with his gun drawn when you'd stubbed your toe on your bedside table and yelled. He hadn't put on a shirt before coming into your room, just aggressively kicked down the door wearing only a pair of hotdog pajama pants that you did mock him relentlessly for afterward. You didn't know why he'd looked so frantic when you yelled. It was just a toe after all. There wasn't anything for him to be worried about. Sam had showed up maybe ten minutes later rubbing the sleep from his eyes not worried at all.

But you'd remembered how Dean had looked shirtless. Sometimes the thought came flying into your mind at the most inopportune times, when Dean pissed you off and stuck his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips and the warmth of his skin through he air. The thought of him shirtless with his pajama pants hung so low on his hips that you could see every single hard defined muscle of his abdomen including the ones that made smart girls like you stupid.

You slipped on the clothes, but stop before you open the door to cast one more glance at Ben.

Although you knew that Ben and your relationship was more physical, there was a part of you that believed it could grow into something more if you went with him, something that you'd been wanting for a little while. Not just Ben specifically, but with someone.

Yes you were lonely, and Ben lessened the ache whenever he was around, but sometimes you wanted more than this and being a hunter didn’t help at all.

You never met anyone or tried to have a real relationship with anyone in a long time. The last permanent boyfriend you'd had wasn't a hunter, but someone you'd met in a bar after a hunt with Dean and Sam. It lasted Four months. Four months of you missing anniversaries, dates, and his birthday. He'd accused you of cheating on him with Sam and you'd found him in bed with his work partner when you'd tried to surprise him one weekend. You hadn't been surprised. Surprising was when the guy had tried to follow after you and both Dean and Sam had blocked his path and told him to "get lost." That was putting it nicely.

Sam had to hold Dean back from breaking the guy's arm when he shouted over the two of them at you that you "weren't worth the trouble." You didn’t understand why Dean was also just as pissed at the idea of the guy cheating on you as Sam.

You shake off the thought and tiptoe out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

The bunker was silent, the metal floors cool beneath your bare feet as you walked down the desolate hallways. You glance at Dean's closed door for a moment as you pass and the feeling in the pit of your stomach tightens. A flash of the emotions on his face when you kissed Ben in the car and at the school flickers through your mind and you clench your jaw.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When you enter the kitchen you realize that you're not alone. Dean is leaning over the metal table his large hands braced on the top, his back to you, and his head bowed. A bottle of expensive whiskey sits on the counter in front of him next to a glass with the maple colored liquid inside. But the weird thing was that this wasn't the usual stuff Dean drank. This was the bottle that he had Sam hide from him for emergencies, the stuff that you'd only seen Dean drink when he was really upset and nothing else would cut it.

But what?

He turns when he hears you walk in.

You watch his eyes darken slightly as they skate over what you're wearing making your cheeks flush. You didn’t think he was still awake. If you had, you would have wore more than your favorite Metallica t-shirt that was worn soft from years of wear. Dean's gaze catches on the end of it where it hits mid-thigh, lingering a second too long, and makes something spark in your chest.

"Sorry. I was just getting some water." You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Romeo didn't get it for you?" Dean frowns as if the thought of Ben is an annoyance to him.

"No, he's asleep." You shake your head. "I thought you were asleep too-"

"Kinda hard to be sweetheart when the two of you are shooting a porno in the room next door to mine."

You feel your cheeks flush an even brighter pink. You didn't know that Ben and you were being that loud. The bed was a little squeaky, but you hadn't worried about the sound. The icky feeling in the pit of your stomach is back, the guilt rising in a wave the more you realize how much Dean heard.

Again? Why am I guilty? Ben and I had fun, he didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to have sex with him but-

"I'm sorry. I didn't know we were being that loud." You shake off the feeling and move around Dean to get a glass from one of the shelves.

"Guess he was making up for lost time huh? All those lonely months away from you fucking other women were hard I guess." Dean's words bite through the air and made your own temper flare up.

"He's not cheating on me. We weren't exclusive-"

"But you haven't been with anyone since you came back from his world."

Your hand freezes around the glass you reached for on the shelf. Why did he notice that? And why does he care?

The flicker of emotion in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben in the auditorium comes roaring back, jealousy and hurt. It makes the guilt worse.

You let out a breath to calm the anger that wishes to bite back at Dean's comment. "Look, I know that you don't like him, but Ben isn't a bad person and even though it's not any of your business, we had fun."

You don't know why you felt the need to justify what you'd done with, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Standing here in front of Dean felt awkward, and it never had before. And it wasn't just because of what you were wearing, there was something else charging the air between the two of you. You were expecting a giant purple elephant to appear in the corner.

Dean chuckles, his eyes dark. "Did you now?"

"Yes." You reply, but you can't hold his gaze, not when he's looking at you like that.

Dean takes a long swig from the glass in front of him, his lips curling on the edges in a cruel smirk. This was the Dean you saw more often, the one that made you feel like a failure and a bother, but it was the first time that you longed to see the soft Dean who protected you from the fallen debris.

"I could hear just how much fun the two of you were having sweetheart." He continues. "But the man who isn’t a bad person toasted a woman that he slept with without batting an eye. Imagine what he'd do to you."

"A woman who was going to kill me." You say to defend Ben. "And he wouldn't hurt me."

Dean's eyes flick down to your thighs, his gaze hardening. "What do you call those?"

You glance down at the place where your shirt meets your thighs and notice the bruises. There were five on each leg and each was a perfect imprint of Ben's fingertips. They didn't hurt and you certainly hadn't felt or noticed them before Dean pointed them out.

But you knew that Ben would never hurt you. He wasn't like that.

Sure he killed that woman today, but she was crazy and she was trying to kill me and-

"He didn't it on purpose. He's stronger than us and sometimes-"

"Don't you dare make excuses for that asshole." Dean growls eyes flashing. "I don't care if he didn't do it on purpose, he still did it. He knows how strong he is and if he can't control himself he shouldn't be sleeping with you!"

"You're being ridiculous!" Ice clinks against the sides of your glass as you make your way back towards the sink.

"No, I'm not. And I want him gone!"

"Oh really?" You snark while placing the glass under the running water in the sink. "I had no idea. You've been so calm and collected since the moment Ben showed up."

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but instead huffs out a breath and pours himself another glass. The amber colored liquid splashes against the sides of the cup as Dean violently picks it up to take another drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over the kitchen.

The water is cold, but you can't feel it when you take a sip, and you still can't quite look at Dean.

If he really is jealous, why can't he just come out and say it? Why is he being so stubborn and nitpicking someone else?

You sigh quietly to yourself and take another sip of water. The guilt was building again, prickling beneath your skin and bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of your stomach the longer you stand there.

Why am I guilty? Dean being jealous has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him!

You think about going back to your room and being done with it, but you can't something is keeping you in that kitchen with Dean just as something is keeping him there with you.

"He-um-" You swallow. "He asked me to back with him to his universe." 

Dean's entire body tenses as he explodes. "What? Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"No I-"

"Are you seriously considering that?" He demands looking at you like you're crazy.

"Yes. I am." You answer him honestly. There's something hidden beneath the surface that makes you want to tell Dean this. You're not sure if it's morbid curiosity or if it's something else, something that you can't quite place, but you want Dean to tell you what he thinks.

"But why?! You've known that asshole for five days!" Dean snaps back, but you can hear something in his voice, almost as if he's holding himself back from saying something else.

Dean please just say it! Don't keep it in!

"He's not an asshole, he's just rough around the edges." You shrug continuing to make excuses for Ben and thinking about the bruises on your thighs.

"Oh please." Dean rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head you wonder how they didn't get stuck on his brain. "If I took a piece of tree bark and ran it along his arm, he'd make it smooth."

"But-"

"Sam told me that you were unhappy here, but I didn't think you would throw your entire life away to be with that asshole!"

His words make you hesitate for a moment in surprise.

Sam told him that I was thinking about leaving? Why did he tell Dean that?

"What life Dean?" You shout, throwing your arms out to gesture to the entire room. "I don't have anything here! I can't keep a relationship because I let people down. I don't know who my dad is because he walked out on my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant. My mom died four years ago. I go to bed every night wishing for something else to happen but-" Frustrated tears were burning in your eyes now.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, but the urge to was overpowering everything else, the emotions you tried to keep down for so long beginning to curl and reform from the dark recessive parts of your mind where you buried them the night you met Dean Winchester.

"You deserve better than that asshole!" Dean shouts over you taking another step in your direction.

"Oh and what do you think I deserve Dean? Are you saying that I deserve someone like you?

Dean grits his teeth in frustration, anger blazing behind his eyes. "No I-" He finds his words. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”

"Oh good! That dinosaur. Falling back on something familiar, what a typical Dean Winchester move!" You gesture wildly with your hands sloshing water onto the floor. "I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it. We’re both consenting adults. He didn’t force me to do anything.”

You put down the cup to avoid throwing the glass at him.

“I just don’t see why you did it!” He towers over you, his body pulled taunt with his own anger and frustration.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping around with people like him!”

Is he out of his MIND?!

"Why not?" You demand, fists curling into balls at your sides because you know that it's not safe to put them anywhere else. The anger that was flaring in your chest was starting to rival how you felt the last time that Dean and you had an argument and you broke his nose. And it had just finished healing a few days ago.

"Because he treats you like a piece of meat!" Dean shouts it so loud you can hear the frying pans hanging in the kitchen clink together

"Do you even hear yourself? I have seen you in bars picking up women after a hunt-"

You had. Countless times. The bravado Dean had when the three of you were still floating on the adrenaline that was pumping through from a hunt you'd seen first hand in the bars where Sam and you sat at a one of the high top tables watching him weave through the crowds with the sound of classic rock blaring over the crackly speakers. You watched Dean find another woman for the night, saw how he tried his best lines and got what he wanted while you sat in the motel room next to his trying to read beside a sleeping Sam and avoid the noises coming from next door.

"This is different!" He fumes.

"How is it different Dean? I want to know!"

Is it different because he's jealous? Or did I just imagine that?

You didn't think that you did.

Dean's face is bright red with the force of his anger and you're sure yours must be too given how it feels like it's on fire.

"He's always touching you or kissing you, putting his fucking hands on you!" Dean's jaw is clenched tight.  "I've never heard him give you one compliment other than how you look-"

You laugh in his face, but it comes out crueler than you meant it to. "In contrast to how many compliments you give me? Because I don't think there's been any of those."

"I compliment you." He huffs back.

"Oh really?" You scoff. "When?"

Dean is quiet for a minute. His eyes drag over you again, but this time the sweep of them bring a heat vibrating against your skin and your throat gets tight. "I like your shirt."

"HA!" You shout triumphant holding up a finger. "That's looks based."

"You didn't let me finish!" He scrambles. "I like your shirt because I like that band too and you have okay taste in music."

"Oh wooowwww. I have "okay taste in music" let me just swoon right here." You wave your hand back and forth. "Fuck you. I have awesome taste in music!"

"That's not what I-"

"And who is it that should I be sleeping around with? You?!" You roll your eyes trying to take a step away from him, but he moves to intercept you.

His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles are white. “I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

His green eyes darken as he stares down at you, the fluorescent lights above the two of you catching the familiar hard lines of his face. Even though Dean looked like Ben, he still looked like himself in his own way. The familiar crows feet that graced under his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head, the rough stubble that pebbled over his chin and cheeks, the soft freckles, and the green eyes that you always found on you. There was a small scar just barely visible on the bridge of his nose and a few flecked on the edges of his face that made him more handsome.

You'd noticed how handsome he was in the past, but never like this. You'd never looked at Dean as other than someone who annoyed you. And yes he was annoying you now, but there was something else that you could feel threatening to explode, something you buried deep down and refused to unearth.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth Dean, I’m trying to figure out why this is such a big deal to you!”

Why is it a big deal?

“It just is!"

"Why? Because you're jealous?!" You hadn't meant to say it, but Dean's body goes taunt again.

"I am not jealous. I just don’t want you sleeping with him!”

“I think you are! And you’re not my dad Dean. You don’t get to decide who I sleep with!” You'd had enough of hearing him yell at you, of hearing him bitch about something that wasn't any of his business.

Who does he think he is? We're not together.

“That’s not what this is about-“

“Then what is it about Dean?! Why are you so hung up on something that is none of your business?!”

"It is my business!"

"How? How is it your business? Because you think that Ben is you somehow?"

"He is me!" Dean roars again and you wished he would stop saying it, because it was snagging on something in your chest.

A lie that you told yourself when you first started sleeping with Ben. You knew it. That you liked Ben because he looked like Dean and he appreciated you, that he didn't make you feel stupid, or ugly or not worth his time.

"No, he's not!" You shout back shaking off the feelings for what you hope is the final time. “Why do you care so much about this?!”

“Because I-“ Dean shouts, eyes narrowed at you. “Because I just do!”

“WHY?” You poke your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who you think you are. You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with!"

“I’m not trying to!”

“Yes you are! And I am so sick of your bullshit Winchester. This is none of your business. None of this is. It's my life! So why don't you just take your unneeded opinion and-"

The rest of your sentence evaporates into thin air as Dean grabs your shoulders so tight you're sure they're be bruises and pulls you in for a searing kiss.

Your body is frozen in shock, the warmth of his lips against yours holding a softness that you'd never known.

Everything about this kiss is different than the ones you'd share with Ben. You knew better than to compare them, but Ben kissed like he meant to devour you. He wasn't hesitant or afraid to take what he wanted when he kissed you, but Dean?

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

But just as he deepens the kiss you push him away and slap him across the face. The sharp sound rings through the kitchen and for a moment all you can do is stare at him shocked while the red mark on his face forms.

"What the hell was that for?" Dean shouts, but the emotion in his eyes wasn't anger, it was hurt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You shout back still out of breath. The ghost of his lips presses against yours and the taste of the whiskey remains on the tip of your tongue.

"I thought that-" He clears his throat, eyes widening.

"Thought what?"

"That you wanted me to-"

"To what? Kiss me?" The frustration was building again, because yes it had felt good to kiss him, but you hated that he was doing this now. That after years of him hating you, now when you had the possibility of being happy Dean was making this harder for you.

"Well-"

"No." You poke your finger into his chest, and this time you can't hold back the tears. They slip from your eyes, hot against your skin, as you feel every emotion that you'd kept bottled up beginning to surge up in a wave. "You don't get to do this Dean. Not now. Not after years of you treating me like shit."

Dean sighs and reaches for you, but you pull back from him. Hurt flashes in his eyes again and you can feel your own in the center of your chest. "I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. Damn it Dean, I'm not some shiny toy the two of you can fight over."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then why now?" You ask in a half sob.

Dean pauses. "What?"

"Why after years of you hating me-"

"I never hated you." Dean's voice is more of a whisper than anything else.

"Oh bullshit. Yes you do!" You raise your hand to scrub at your cheeks, the tears falling quicker now.

It was the first time that you'd allowed yourself to cry in front of him, and you were fighting the urge to run back to your room. Ben was still there and you didn't know how the hell you were going to explain to you why you were crying.

"Will you just shut your damn mouth for five seconds and let me talk!?" He snaps running his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to break your nose again if you do!"

"You need to because I'm trying to explain-"

"Explain what? Explain that you've completely lost your mind? Explain that all the years of you undermining me, making me feel like a burden, teasing me, yelling at me, making me feel like I was stupid, and driving me absolutely insane, has just been you trying to say that you love me?!"

You hadn't meant to shout that at him. Hadn't meant to say the word love, but now it was there hovering in the air between the two of you. Dean's eyes are locked with yours and you don't think he's taken a breath since you spoke.

Because love was a little word, only four letters, but why did it always seem so heavy? How could one word have the same weight as a loaded gun? How could something so small cause so much pain and so much hurt?

"Yes." Dean looks down at the ground, not able to meet your eyes. He looks ashamed and you can't find the words to fill the silence.

Because Dean Winchester was in love with you. The man who you'd always thought hated you, who you thought wished that you were never around, and who you thought believed you to be an annoyance.

Holy shit.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

The words strike you right in the center of your chest and it shocks you so much that you stop crying. You'd seen different sides of Dean before. Seen him angry, happy, annoyed, frustrated, sad… but Dean Winchester had never looked broken around you, not like this, and certainly not over you. Whenever something went wrong Dean would isolate himself from you in his room with a bottle of something to numb the pain. It made you feel like someone was gutting out your insides with a pitchfork.

The silence grows between the two of you again, and his head is still bowed and looking down at the floor in shame.

You exhale softly, controlled by something that you're not sure, and reach out towards Dean's face.

He flinches back from you, eyes rimmed red, looking at you suspiciously as if he believes you're going to break his nose. In hindsight, you supposed it was a reasonable fear to have since you'd done it in the past.

"What are you doing?" He asks, voice cracking. Dean's green eyes have dimmed, looking more like an aged jade pot that's sat outside in the sun for too long.

"Please shut up." You sniffle, the end of your mouth twitching into a smile, before you place your hands on the sides of Dean's face and pull him down to you.

The kiss is quick, only a brush of your lips against his to give yourself a taste and when it's done you pull back letting your hands fall to your sides. You're not sure why you did that. Maybe it's because Dean admitted to loving you and he looks like a lost puppy, but-

Dean steps forward into the space, his hands reaching towards your face, and you flinch.

“What are you-“

“Please shut up.” Dean murmurs, echoing the words you'd whispered to him moments ago.

His hands are rough and warm against your cheeks. Worn from years of carrying a gun in his hand and hard work he never shied away from. But they’re nothing but gentle against your skin as he pulls your face to his.

You could be standing on the surface of the sun and not feel as hot as you do now. A volcano could erupt and bathe you in lava and you would just scoff at it like it was a normal day, because kissing Dean feels infinite. It's all consuming. The scrub of his five o'clock shadow against your cheeks, the slide of his hands down your arms that bring goosebumps in their wake, the smell of his shampoo that you always catch when you walk into the bathroom, the nudge of his nose into your cheek, and the soft supple welcome of his lips that draw the breath from your lungs all take you somewhere otherworldly.

You couldn't stop. It was a compulsion, like magnets, like it was something you wanted to do for so long but buried it deep down to avoid the inevitable. Fueled by the belief that Dean would push you away, because Dean Winchester hated you.

But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Dean moans softly into your mouth and picks you up, his muscular arms fitting under your legs to place you on the counter, not pulling away at all and stepping into the space between them to fit himself closer to you. Your hands come to the back of his head, tangling in the short strands at the nape of his neck, shuffling your nails through his hair in a way that makes Dean shudder and pull you tighter to his chest.

Dean pulls back from you out of breath, but rests his forehead against yours, as if any further is too far from you and he doesn't wish to ever let you go.

"I don't hate you Dean." You whisper before he can say anything. "I can't. And I was only with Ben because I thought that this could never happen because you hated me-"

Dean's lips fall against yours taking your next words with it. "I don't hate you. I never did."

"Then why?"

He sighs. "I hated that you were a hunter, that this was your life, that you'd been doing this for so long with no one helping you."

"I'm okay."

"I know that, but I-" Dean hesitates. "I shouldn't have done what I did, but I didn't think that you'd want this-"

"This?"

"Me." Dean closes his eyes leaning further against you, almost as if he can’t hold himself up.

"Why?" Your grip on the back of his neck tightens.

"Because I'm-" He tries to find the word. "I'm not perfect. I'm a jealous asshole. I've done terrible things, made you cry.” He sighs. “You deserve better."

You kiss him softly. "There is no one better. I'm not looking for perfect, I'm looking for human. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake and being imperfect. The imperfections are what make you, you." Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Dean, you're not a bad person. You are the most selfless man I have ever met. And maybe you've messed up a few times, but I have too. Do you think I'm a bad person for the things I've done?"

There was a list of them that seemed to grow longer each day and it was difficult not to dwell on the things of the past. But standing here with Dean, watching the weight settle on his shoulders, while he told you that he didn't think he was enough for you made you throw it all away.

"No.”

“Do you think that I’m not deserving of love?”

“No. But-"

 You shush him. "Then don’t talk that way about the man I love."

Dean's eyes widen, but you watch the end of his lips twitch into a smile. "You love me?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "I think I always have, but I was afraid because you were-"

His mouth falls over yours so fast you don’t have time to finish the thought. "I love you too."

Your heart flutters in your chest with his words.

"Kinda hard not to." His thumbs stroke along your hip bone over the soft t-shirt sending electricity dancing along your spine.

You smirk. "You're right. I am pretty great."

"I think the word you're looking for is high maintenance." Dean smirks back at you.

"Aww… That means I'm out of your league and you're lucky to have me in your life." You giggle with a smile.

"I am." He murmurs, nudging his nose forward into yours moving in for another kiss.

Someone clears their throat from the other side of the room drawing your eye. Ben is leaning against the doorway dressed in his suit, watching where you're wrapped up in Dean's arms.

Any warm feelings you were having standing there with Dean immediately evaporate and the guilt comes roaring back. You'd forgotten that Ben was still here and you felt bad for him. You didn't want him to think that you used him.

"Ben I-" You begin to stutter, but he only shakes his head at you.

"You don't gotta explain anything doll, I know what this was." Ben smirks, but you see something flicker in his gaze for just a second before its gone.  "And I'm man enough to admit when I'm beat. Even if I don't like it."

"But-" You try to say again.

Oh this is so awkward.

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Cas walks into the room with Sam at his heels, who looks much too smug when he spies where Dean has you on the counter. You push Dean back and stand up, while Dean shoots daggers with his gaze leveled at Sam.

Sam isn't phased, but chooses not to say anything.

Ben rolls himself off the doorway and walks confidently to where Dean and you are standing, extending his hand towards Dean. "You take care of her." Ben's eyes flick to you for a second before focusing more on Dean. "She's special."

The hand of guilt on your throat tightens just a little more, because somewhere you wondered if Ben really was as aloof as he seemed or if he had started to care about you a little more than he let on.

"I will." Dean's smile is forced, and you see him squeeze Ben's hand a little tighter as he does.  It only makes Ben smirk wider.

Cas begins to write the symbol on the floor taking care with each intricate detail to open the portal, but you stop him at the last minute.

"Wait." You take a step forward and hug Ben tightly. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me for fucking you?" Ben snorts throwing a smug look in Dean's direction that makes Dean bristle. "Guess I am a gift."

"Shut up." Your cheeks blaze bright red and you hear Dean growl something under his breath. "No, just thank you. For being here."

Ben hesitates. He raises his hand to your cheek, fingers tracing along your skin before he brushes away some of your hair. It was a gentle gesture from him, one that you weren't accustomed to. The emotion in his eyes shifts to something else, but he hides it with a smirk. "You're welcome sweetheart."

"Maybe you'll meet the me from your reality." You say, because you're not sure what else you can say, not when Ben is looking at you like that.

The entire situation was again reaching soap opera proportions and there was only so much you could take before you drove your car off a cliff.

The truth was, you did like Ben. You thought he was attractive, bold, strong, but there was always something a little gentle that lurked under the surface he never let anyone else see.

But you loved Dean. He understood what it was like to be a hunter, understood what it was like to not be able to live up to someone's expectations, and he loved you. You couldn't see a life with Ben, but you could see one with Dean. Ben didn't belong in your world and you didn't belong in his.

Ben's smirk twitches. "Maybe. But she won't be the same as you doll."

Dean clears his throat and steps forward to pull you back into his chest possessively. "I think your ride's leaving." You don't have to look up into his face to know he's frowning.

Ben chuckles. "You know what kid? You're alright." His eyes flick back to yours. "You give me a call if you get bored with him."

"She won't." Dean snaps. “And don’t call me kid.”

Ben only laughs at him and steps closer to Cas as he begins to finish the ritual and when the portal finally opens, Ben goes through without looking back.

And you don’t feel guilty anymore, because you knew that Ben understood.

"Finally." Dean breathes a sigh of relief that makes you snort, dropping his head to your shoulder. It was so casual that you had to remind yourself that Dean loved you and you loved him.

Sam clears his throat. "Hey Cas will you help me with something in the library-"

"What do you have to do in the library?" Cas frowns at him confused.

"Just something come on-"

"But why-"

"CAS!" Sam shouts casting an obvious look in the direction of where Dean and you are standing.

Cas looks at the two of you. "Are they coming with us to the library?"

Sam huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs Cas by the back of his trench coat to drag him out of the kitchen so Dean and you can have a few moments alone.

You snort at the confused look on Cas's face when Sam drags him out, before you turn your body in his arms to look up into Dean's handsome face. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to be jealous of yourself?"

"I thought he wasn't me?" Dean smirks, his eyebrow arching with his tease. His fingers are resting resolutely on your hips, thumbs softly trailing in circles.

"He is a little bit." You admit defeated. "But don't look so smug Winchester."

"I think I'm allowed to be a little bit." His smirk grows and he leans his face down to yours. Instead of feeling angry at the appearance of his smirk it only makes you smile.

Standing here in the aftermath made you see Dean in a different light, made your heart buckle and jump in your chest the longer you stood there in the kitchen basking in the warmth that began to bloom in your chest.

"Maybe…" You gently touch the front of his buffalo print flannel, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingertips. It looked good on him, very little looked bad on Dean.

"Do you regret staying with me?" He mutters.

"What?" You glance back up to see his face and notice that he's not smiling, he's frowning at you, and his eyes aren't as bright.

Dean clears his throat. "Well you seemed like you were really going to miss him and-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, putting you everything you have into the kiss, hoping that Dean can feel how you have no regrets staying with him, that all you want is him.

"Dean Winchester." You breathe, moving your hands to cup his cheeks so he can't look away from you. "I do not regret staying with you, because I love you." You pull him as close to you as you can, his warm hands splayed over your back. "This is where I belong." You kiss him on the tip of his nose. "And this is where you belong. With me."

Dean's eyes warm the longer you hold his gaze. "I'm starting to believe you."

"Anything that I can do to convince you?"

"I can think of a few things…"

Ben/Soldier Boy POV

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

It had been two days since he'd left your reality, and he was trying his best to shove away the disappointment at the fact that you hadn't decided to come back with him. It wasn't that Ben wanted more than what the two of you had, it was that he liked having someone to talk to or try to talk to, and you were a good listener.

He didn’t like opening up to people, but there was something about you. He could trust you and Ben hadn't found anyone he could trust since he got back from Russia.

Ben also wasn't about to admit that he was lonely, he had plenty of women who were eager to warm his bed, but there was something about you that always made him feel different. He wasn't sure what that was exactly.

He'd also be lying if he said that he had wanted to explore it a little more if you'd come with him to his reality. The thought of you staying with him for an extended period of time in his apartment hadn't been unwelcome. Ben had never allowed other women to stay more than a day, but you… Ben would have let you stay as long as you wanted to.

Fuck.

He knew that he wasn't in love with you, but Ben knew he liked having you around. He liked being friends with you and he liked fucking you.

And yes he was disappointed that you had chosen Dean instead of him, but at the same time Ben didn't blame you. You had a history with Dean and when you'd been forced into Ben's reality, you'd talked to him a lot about Dean. Ben knew that you liked Dean more than you cared to admit.

But there was still an unwelcome feeling in the pit of his stomach that Ben wasn't accustomed to.

Ben huffed out a breath to push away the thoughts, while looking at what was left of the keyboard on his desk. The keys were scattered across the wooden top like bits of confetti, broken easily underneath his large fingertips when he'd tried to write an email

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had taken a job working for the Department of Supe Affairs, but he was "grounded" due to the "anger issues" that he swore he didn't have, and because he didn't listen to Butcher whenever he gave him an order.

I don't need to follow orders. I'm Soldier Boy! I should be giving the orders!

Basically it meant that he was stuck on a desk indefinitely until Annie January, the new department head, released him. She'd also ordered that Ben go to company mandated therapy sessions once a week. He'd refused to go, but after Annie threatened him with termination of his contract, which meant that Ben would have gone back to being someone who "looked like someone who used to be famous," he'd gone to therapy.

And he refuses to admit this to anyone… but he liked it. Someone who was paid to listen to him bitch for a whole hour about whatever pissed him off and actually kept their trap shut was just what he needed.

Sometimes it reminded him of when he would talk to you, but there were still things that he refused to tell anyone and some of those things he had told you.

Ben ran his hand through his hair frustrated at his predicament. He would have liked to go into the field and take out some of his frustration on another supe, but Annie refused to give.

Ben didn't like listening to women, but even he had to admit Annie had a set of brass balls and he respected her for it. She didn’t take shit from anyone and especially didn't listen to Ben's bitching over why he should be in the field instead of being chained to a desk.

"Oi you all right mate?" Butcher calls and Ben can hear the shit eating grin without looking up from his computer screen.

The error message was still displayed in bright red letters, mocking him.

Ben knows that Butcher doesn't give a shit, and is probably about to start teasing him about his inability to adapt to modern day technology.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Don't you have something better to do? Like fucking that little bitch that Annie is ploughing?" Ben spits back, clicking on the mouse but all it does is bring up another error message in another language.

"Oh mon ami, that doesn't look good." Frenchie walks by to stare at the computer screen that has now gone slightly fuzzy.

"I don’t think that's going to fix it mate." Butcher laughs. " But I called IT."

"I don’t need any of those four-eyed fucks helping me!" Ben snaps turning to narrow his eyes at Butcher.

He's holding a white cup of tea, wearing his usual long trench coat and Hawaiian shirt, with the shit eating grin that Ben knew Butcher was going to have when he looked up.

The last thing Ben needed was some nerd telling him everything that he did wrong. He was already on a first name basis with the director of the IT department, who was a little weasel of a man and who no longer picked up the phone when Ben called to yell at him.

"I think you're gonna want to listen to this particular four eyed fuck. She's new." Butcher gloats. "But don’t say I never did anything for you Soldier Boy."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben shouts at Butcher's back, but he's already gone.

Ben turns back to the error message that has begun to flash an even brighter red and now has a countdown.

"Fuck, fuck fuck-" Ben growled and to remedy the situation he puts his fist through the computer screen. It makes a high pitched electrical popping sound, showering his desk in sparks, while the overhead lights flicker, before the screen goes completely black.

Ben was not stupid, but he was a little slow when it came to modern day technology. He was doing better than he had initially, but it was taking him a longer time to understand using his desktop computer at work than his cell phone.

"Hi, I'm from IT. Mr. Butcher called and said that you might need a little help." The voice was small and tentative, coming from somewhere on Ben's left.

"I don't need any help. Especially not from a fucking four-" Ben started to growl, but then he looked up and the words died in his throat.

Because the person standing next to his desk was you.

This version of you looked different. Ben was used to seeing someone in old band t-shirts, worn blue jeans, and flannel shirts, someone who carried themselves confidently and had a hardness surrounding their outer exterior that simply said "don't fuck with me."

But this version of you was softer and a little gentle. Your hair was longer and pushed back from your face by a simple black headband, you were wearing dark framed glasses, an oversized cardigan sweater that covered a simple pair of blue jeans, a striped blouse, and a pair of dark blue converse. The converse made Ben smile. He hadn't seen anyone wearing Chuck Taylors in a little while and it was a welcome sight, something from the past that he actually recognized.

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield.

He thought it was cute.

As much as Ben liked the version of you he knew who didn't shy away from anything, Ben found himself smiling at this one. You were definitely more soft spoken and a little less confident, but Ben could see a sweetness and sincerity in your eyes that he hadn't come across since he came back to the US.

It was the thing that always made him trust the other version of you, the part of him that made him want to tell the other version of you things that he hadn't told other people.

"I'm sorry." You say, even though you have nothing to be sorry about. "I-"

"No. I'm sorry." Ben clears his throat awkwardly and for the first time in a long time he feels nervous. He wasn't sure why that was, not to mention he never apologized to anyone, ever, but he didn't want to scare you away.

"It's okay." You give him a soft smile. "Computers can be frustrating, but sometimes it’s better not to put your fist through the screen."

Ben chuckles. "Probably not my best work."

You shake your head, a wider smile on your face, the motion of it sending the smell of your perfume over him, something floral and a little old fashioned. You look at the remnants of the computer and bite the inside of your cheek deep in thought.

Ben found himself tracing the furrow of your brows and the scrunch of your nose. You were beautiful in every reality to him.

"Well, Mr. Soldier Boy I don't think-"

"Please call me Ben." He interrupts.

Ben wondered if you were this shy all the time and if you'd be just as shy if he took you to bed. He wanted to find out.

Ben had slept with many women in his lifetime and he was usually drawn to women who were more confident and outgoing, sure of themselves, but there was something about your shy attitude that Ben found attractive.

"Ben." You say it in the soft voice of yours, cheeks flushed a little bit as if you're embarrassed to say it. "I don't think that there's anything I can do for this." Your hand waves over the computer. "But I can go talk to my boss and tell him you need another one."

"I'll go with you." Ben stood up.

He didn’t want to let you out of his sight, not when a part of him worried that you weren’t really there or you would evaporate into nothing before his very eyes.

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to-" You stammer, shaking your head, and not quite looking at him as if making eye contact was a little harder for you.

"I want to." Ben smiles at you. He hears your heart beat quicken and can hear the small intake of breath you have when he smiles. "He's an asshole and I don't want him to chew you out for something I did." Ben explains.

It was partly true. The guy was an asshole. Not to mention, Butcher had said it was your first day and Ben wasn’t going to stand by and have the head of the IT department screaming at you when you had done nothing wrong.

"Oh." You clear your throat, cheeks blushing that cute pink color that makes Ben smile wider. "Well if you'll just follow me."

He hadn’t met someone like you in a long time. And even though he liked the other version of you, Ben was starting to like this one more.

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

And the longer he stands there watching you blush, Ben begins to feel an odd feeling flicker in the pit of his stomach racing up into his chest that he’d never felt before and for the first time in a long time Ben was curious to see where it could lead.

A/N: Alright we made it to the end and everyone got a happy ending! Thank you again everyone for all the love and support while I was writing this mini-series 💗

Reveal of the Poll:

🥫: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in a grocery store.

💻: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in the IT department.

Personally I liked the IT more, and the problem is now I really like the shy reader with Ben. They are so cute and now I'm hyperfixated on Ben with a shy reader so we'll see where that goes 🤣

Thank you so much for reading! As always likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, but are not required. I love hearing what y'all think!

Taglist For It's Not A Big Deal:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @livya99 @zepskies

@winchesterwild78 @ladykitana90 @spnfamily-j2 @whyyouegg

@suckitands33 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @s0uz4s @schinug @just-levyy

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @minas-fantasies @ladysparkles78

@mochminnie @peachhiz

@impala67stellawinchester @nancymcl @lunaleah @lightdancingwords @kamisobsessed

@justwhisperingfantasies @lunaleah @kamisobsessed @kmc1989 @djudy99

@chriszgirl92

@toxicfataldestiny @im-bili @anniebannanie0315 @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @schinug

@shara-ne @gaida-511 @xxmusic13luverxx @bakugotypecrashout @n-o-p-e-never

@thoughtfullyfurryangel @youroldfashioned

@marvelgeeka @myceliumsunshine @hobby27

@funkenniffler

[phosphns]

⌗ . . . behind the camera with streamer!chris

warns. established relationship. pet names [baby]. cursing. kinda public sex. oral [f. receiving]. teasing.

to say you were bored, was a understatement. chris, your boyfriend, had been streaming for over 3 hours now, basically ignoring you, and you were getting impatient.

you were continuously glancing at him, annoyed, hoping that he’d catch your stare and finally give you attention.

“chriis” you huffed, your tone low so that the chat woulda had difficulty to hear you.

the triplets’ fans knew you two were together. obviously, there was a big part of them who hated, no, loathed you. they sent you loads of threats and insults, but you didn’t care much. “at the end of the day, it’s me who he’s with” you once said to a paparazzi guy.

anyway, the majority of them liked you. they thought you were a healthy person, who perfectly matched chris vibes.

“yes?” he answered, his eyes not leaving the screen. he was in the middle of the hundredth fortnite match, cursing under his breath at every missed kill. he looked angelic; his hair sticking on his forehead, the long-sleeved black sweater underneath you knew there was nothing else, which did nothing but increased your hunger of him.

you observed the way his fingers moved on the keyboard, an image that reminded you of how skilled his hands where — if put in a good use.

god, you were about to lose it.

to be completely honest, you had spent the night together, between intimate touches and cuddles, with your legs interlocked and his arm around your body. but did it mean it was enough? absolutely no. nothing was never enough with chris.

“i… uhm, can i play?” you asked, putting on a fresh love t-shirt and walking over him, standing behind his chair.

you were wearing a pair of his boxers as bottom, and as much as you didn’t care, chris wasn’t the happiest to have people conspiring about your sexual life.

he finally turned his head to you, removing the headphones from his head and placing them on the desk. he smirked, raising a brow.

“since when you like fortnite?” he investigated, careful to hide your body behind his figure. his eyes wandered around it and stopped a few more seconds on your tits, who weren’t being kept in a bra so your nipples were visible through the shirt.

“since you love it more than me. what do they say? if you can’t beat them, join them?” you quoted, winking at the camera. he let out a laugh, throwing his head back, and pulled you on his lap.

he leaned over your ear, his warm breath on your neck making you shiver. “couldn’t last another hour without my attention, could you?” he whispered, purposely putting an hand on the mic not to make the chat understand.

you pushed back to his chest, your ass now pressed on his crotch as you felt his growing erection on your back. you simply smiled to the camera, acting like nothing was happening.

“you’re a needy little thing,” he added, before removing the hand from the microphone and yelling a “let’s goo” to the stream.

you greeted the chat, which welcomed you happily and filling you with compliments. you felt chris’ arms circling your waist, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the fans.

«omg the hand placement»

«theyre soooo»

«i want this»

«im so jealous rn»

he started explaining how to play and which buttons to use, but all you could focus on was his voice, low and raspy that did certainly something to your core, and the way his jaw brushed against your shoulder.

“you got it, c’mon, babe” he told you when you started playing. you weren’t that bad, actually; it wasn’t your first time playing, especially since you were with chris, so you pretty much knew what you were doing — until you started feeling something tickling your thigh.

you shifted uncomfortably on chris’ lap, who hadn’t said anything but knew damn well what was happening.

luckily for him, that part of your bodies were hidden from the camera, so the stream couldn’t see anything but you stirring on your boyfriend’s thighs.

you continued playing acting oblivious, even though your trembling movements that were making you miss all the shots.

“fuck!” you groaned in frustration at the tenth waisted opportunity, while you felt a finger fidgeting with the hem of your knickers.

you looked at chris with the corner of your eyes, signaling to him that he needed to stop now or it wouldn’t have ended well.

he, however, ignored your signals and continued to yap about how he was a better player than you, whilst his fingers kept getting closer to your heat.

you involuntarily pushed back towards his hand, which caused his fingers to touch your opening and nearly making you moan.

“you okay babe? you hit your foot on the table or something?” he feigned ignorance, like he wasn’t the reason you almost came.

“n-no — i mean yes, i’m o-okay” you replied, trying to focus on the game. there were just 4 people left in the game, the competition was getting fierce.

as you killed a player, you felt a finger slide in you, making you basically nudged back against his chest, cursing under your breath.

chris gave you a smug smile, pushing you forward with the free hand, before saying:

“that’s my girl”.

you shivered, but you kept your hands firm on the keyboard, on one side because you were close to win, on the other because if you hadn’t, that twitch stream would have been transformed in a live porn one.

chris must had noticed the way your body was reacting, because he started pumping his finger faster than before, adding another one. his gestures were rapid and rough, but they were also limited, since he couldn’t move as freely as you both wanted. it was driving you insane.

“shit! where the fuck is he!” you yelled at the game, as the storm was approaching and there were left just few minutes.

your boyfriend’s fingers moved at an accelerating pace as you were literally about to levitate from the chair. you had to bite your bottom lip to keep back your moans that were begging to come out.

you also could feel chris’ hard-on under you, which provoked him to stay in silence, besides some comments that he would make about your skills.

your chest was moving quickly now and your breath was becoming heavy as you sensed the knot in your stomach growing. the chat didn’t seem to notice, though, probably convinced that your state was instigated by the tension in the game.

when chris added another finger, you actually felt like you could pass out. his digits were thrusting furiously into you, causing your whole body to tremble.

miraculously, you managed to kill the last one player, resulting in you to win. chris screamed in victory, but both of you couldn’t really move, because the same instant you won, his fingers won you over too, making you come and riding you out of your high.

“oh my god! chris — fuck!” you couldn’t help but let out a cry, but fortunately it was covered by your celebrations.

chris smirked mischievously, keeping his hand down your crotch.

it had been one of the most mind-blowing orgasm you’d ever experienced.

“i think you’ve changed your opinion on fortnite, haven’t you baby?” he asked, with a teasing tone, caressing your side with his other hand.

you nodded, not being able to say anything after the strong load of sensations that you felt in more or less twenty minutes.

after that, chris decided to wrap up the stream, claiming to be tired, but you and me both know that it was nothing compared to how much he would have been tired the next morning.

yaps. i think it’s pretty evident i have a thing for fingers… anyway i saw this tiktok and decided that i had to do something about it.

tags 💌 @ultrviolenxe ៹ @chrissbows ៹ @courta13 ៹ @chriss-slutt .

wc 1,2k

[thelov3lybookworm]

Misapprehensions and Confessions

(moodboard creds to @sunshinebingo hehe she made it so pretty 🥹)

Day 1: First kiss

Summary: It has been a regular routine for Gwyn to seek out the spymaster for training. And when he suggests helping her out with getting reaccustomed to society, it doesn't take too much persuasion for Gwyn to agree. But when he doesn't show up one day, Gwyn takes up the liberty to accompany herself into the city.

That one decision is all it takes for it all to fall apart.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 3013

Warnings: none for this chapter, though theres going to be yummy angst in the coming parts heheheh 😋

A/n: SURPRISEE!!! WE'VE BEEN KEEPING IT FROM YOU ALL BUT ME AND POOKIE @sunshinebingo HAVE BEEN WORKING ON A GWYNRIEL FIC TOGETHER FOR @sjmromanceweek 🥹

heres the first part for the mini series for day 1 <3

Read on AO3 here

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYYY!!!🥳🥳🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Gwyn's pov.

Gwyn adjusted her belt around her waist after making sure her white t-shirt was perfectly tucked into her high-waisted jeans, then turned this way and that in front of her mirror, her high ponytail swishing at her back as she assessed herself from every angle. Deciding she looked good enough for her weekly trip to Velaris, she walked out of her dorm room, closing the door behind her.

By the time she reached the balcony on the highest level of the House of Wind, her hands were slightly shaky and her cheeks a little flushed. And they had nothing to do with the pace at which she had climbed the steps to the man landing of the house. The reason why her heart was beating faster, chest heaving, adrenaline rushing and her lips were parted stood at the railing with his back to her in a black t-shirt and equally black sweatpants, the curls of his dark hair tousled as though freshly washed and barely towelled. The afternoon sun gilded the edges of his perfect silhouette and added a bright outline that complemented beautifully with the dark shadows swirling around him. 

Gwyn sighed wistfully. 

A few wisps of shadows rushed to her at the sound, as excitable and ticklish as they always were. Their nuzzling caused her to giggle and their master to turn around. 

“Hello, Shadowsinger,” Gwyn laughed, not yet able to look at him thanks to the shadows who wouldn’t stop circling her.

“Alright, alright, I missed you too,” she said to the shadows. “You saw me this morning at training. And you, little sir,” she pointed at one in particular, “stayed with me for a good hour after.” 

The one shadow booped her nose and settled on her shoulder and remained there even when the others moved away from her face so she could see their master. When Gwyn was finally able to look Azriel in the face, she found him staring at her with a look that caused her cheeks to burn. 

Gwyn wondered if she would ever be able to control her blushing in his presence. Wondered if the hazel eyes looking at her would ever not make butterflies come to life inside her.

Today marked the third month since their first outing. It had been during one of their private training sessions at night that Azriel had proposed to be her companion while she braved one of her biggest fears; exploring the world outside the library of the House of Wind. Three months of walking beside Azriel as he showed her around Velaris and a few other places of the Night Court, drinking in every information he offered, his advice and praises, leaning on him for security or simply comfort. Three months during which her gratefulness and admiration for him had grown exponentially, turning into something akin to what the protagonists in the novels she read felt for their love interests. 

Being an avid reader and a good observer, Gwyn knew that there were signs that did not lie. There were certain things heard and seen that hinted at those which remained unvoiced. The stolen looks and the smiles, the banter and subtle flirting, the touches that had gone from accidental to very much intentional and welcomed; all of these combined with the meddling and teasing from their friends and family made Gwyn hope that, perhaps, if she dared be courageous in ways she hadn’t been yet, she could live a life where her daydreams would be reality.

Unfortunately, no amount of reading or even praying had helped her take the leap from hoping to actually confessing her feelings to Azriel.  What if she wasn’t enough? Not pretty enough for this stunning male, not strong enough to be worthy of him, her mere 29 years no match to his 500 of existence and experience? 

And yet, the way those hazel eyes were looking at her right now, appreciating and silently approving of her chased away any doubts, his smile making them float away like the shadows that brushed her cheek as they made their way back to him. He extended a hand towards her.

“You ready, Berdara?”

Her name being voiced by his deep voice caused a fluttering in her heart. And a tingle in other places of her that she blushed even more just thinking about. It got worse when she took his hand and felt a shiver run up her arm at the feel of his skin.

“To spend time with you? Always.” She admitted with a smile.

Azriel brought her hands to his lips for a kiss on her knuckles worthy of a romance novel. Gwyn’s heart beat wildly in her chest as she followed him closer to the railing. As she had done many times before, she wrapped her arms around Azriel’s neck and allowed him to effortlessly lift her up bridal style.

Gwyn was enveloped in his arms and his scent, his shadows acting as another blanket that wrapped around them both. It almost felt like they were pulling Azriel and her somehow closer. 

“You still won't tell me where we're going today?” She asked. 

His wings began spreading behind his back, the sunlight revealing the blue and purple veining on them.

“You’ll see when we get there soon.” 

“Can you at least give me a hint?” She insisted. 

Azriel rolled his eyes. “As much as I hate to admit it for fear that your head grows bigger, you’re too smart for me to give you a hint without risking that you find out before we get there.”

Gwyn frowned at him, although she glowed inside at the compliment. 

“If it sucks, I’m putting a stop to our weekly outings.” She warned him with a lie. 

Azriel looked down at her with a tilt of his head. The smirk that tugged at his lips made him look downright sinful.

“You won’t.” He said. 

“How can you be so sure?” She raised her eyebrows. 

“Because,” he leaned down, his face now so close that the tips of their noses almost brushed, “You won’t dare deprive us both of our favourite day of the week.”

He shot up into the sky without warning. Gwyn squealed and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

She wanted to retort and challenge his last claim. But he was right. And he knew that he was right. It was something they had told each other before, word for word even. A confession that had come out during a picnic on a cliff overlooking the sea, in between a conversation about their respective pasts and another that had been filled with laughter. 

There had been another confession on the edge of her lips back then, threatening to spill out without her permission as he had cradled her cheeks to swipe away her tears. But fear had made her swallow it, just like it did every time they met up.

Gwyn had promised to herself that she would be brave and strong. But confessing one's feelings, she had realised, was much harder than luring a beast or cutting down any physical enemies. She was a Valkyrie, always ready to fight and protect. She had been trained to use every weapon that had been put in her hands and had learned how to turn seemingly harmless objects into deadly ones. Yet Azriel was a ribbon that she had yet to find out how cut.

One day, she vowed as she gazed at him while they flew above the clouds. Soon, she decided when he pulled her slightly higher and brushed his lips to her forehead. 

The flight to their destination was shorter than Gwyn had anticipated. They landed in front of a building at the border of Velaris. But while she had always seen it in a state of construction, now the green tarpaulin had been removed to reveal a place that looked like it had come out of a dream.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Azriel's pov.

Azriel had been on many dates. Romantic, platonic, work related. He had been to plenty.

But none compared to this.

The time he spent with Gwyn. Watching her smile freely, gave him a sense of purpose, a sense of him doing something right. She was beginning to open up to him, and it made him feel like he was on top of the world. The fact that she trusted him, no one else, to take her down to the city and get reacclimated to socialising after a traumatic event no female- or male, for that matter- should have to go through was truly a freeing feeling.

It made him feel like he was not just inherently bad, like he wasn’t just a sadist who tortured people for a living and a messed up sense of obligation. The tainted hands he owned, the shadows that he used to spy on people, they could be used to bring comfort, happiness.

They could make someone feel secure, safe.

Even now, as Azriel placed his hand gently on the small of Gwyn’s back, the feelings remained. He led her into the beautiful two-story white stone building with wide terraces on each level. Gwyn stared at the place in awe, marveling at all the green plants they had been able to fit on the ceilings and at every column and railings. Azriel watched with rapt attention as her eyes roved over every surface, wide with wonder.

As they climbed over the few steps that led to the entrance, he nudged Gwyn, motioning with his free hand. Her lips parted as her gaze landed on the fountain that glimmered inside no doubt what was the lobby, only confirming this place as coming out of a dream. It was the epitome of elegance and romance.

And Azriel wondered if she too described this place as that. As something romantic.

Wondered if she knew he felt such feelings. That there was a reason he brought her to such an intimate place.

He told her to wait, then hurried over to the reception. One of the workers dressed from head to toe in pristine white garments tinted with light gold shimmer led the two to a table in the far back.

The inside was almost opposite from the outside in that the outside seemed to be shining under the afternoon sunlight. The interior, though, was darkly lit.

Everything seemed mysterious, from the candles that hung from sconces, to the ones that stood proudly on the candelabras on the white cloth covered tables. Stained glass windows covered large portions of the walls, changing colour with every step they took, further adding to the dark allure. One moment, they displayed a plethora of reds, then blue the next step.

It was easy to assume the glass panes were most likely charmed.

The worker stopped at a table next to a window that displayed a beautiful portrait of a woman peering up at the skies, her eyes upturned and hands raised in prayer. It almost looked haunting.

Azriel hurried to pull Gwyn’s chair back for her, then walked over to the other side to settle down himself.

“Azriel, this place is beautiful.”

Even the syllables of his name rolling off her tongue made his ears turn warm.

“You think so?” She nodded, her eyes still wandering around. “So you like it?”

She looked almost offended that he’d even asked such a stupid question. “Of course I like it! Anyone would love this place. It is so beautiful.”

Azriel folded his arms over the table, smiling as he gazed at Gwyn. “It opened recently, so I thought we could try out the food.”

She nodded. “I’ve seen this place before, but I think they were under construction then.”

He hummed. “So, what have you been up to this past week?”

She groaned, leaning back in her seat and dragging her hands down her face. “Don’t ask. Merrill has been bothering me so much. It’s almost like she’s trying to kill me or something.”

Azriel raised an amused brow. “Why is that?”

Her brows furrowed in annoyance. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Me? Laugh at you? Never.” He raised his hands, his smirk widening.

She huffed. “Go away. I won’t tell you.”

He chuckled, mirroring her position. “I’m sorry, I won’t laugh. Please, tell me how the awful female has been causing you woe.”

“One day, I will force you to work with her, and you won’t be so amused anymore.” She grumbled under her breath.

It only took a bit more encouragement, but she finally began speaking, forgetting his initial disrespect to her frustrations. She spoke throughout the whole time they spent in that restaurant, and Azriel was only too happy to listen.

Time lost its meaning, and before long, they were walking side by side down the market square.

“Can we go home?”

Azriel glanced over at her, then towards where the sun was setting. “Why?”

She sighed. “I need to finish researching some nymph-fae relations from centuries ago. Merril wants me to hand them in before tomorrow.”

Azriel’s lips twitched, but he nodded dutifully, avoiding her narrowed eyes as he bent to scoop her into his arms.

“One day, Azriel. I will make you pay for making fun of me.”

Azriel only looked up to the skies, then pumped his wings, catching the breeze and gliding over it. She squealed, her hold tightening on his neck. Azriel found it adorable, how she never really got used to flying. Each time, she’d make surprised noises and cling to him tighter.

“Would it kill you to give me a warning?!” She said into the skin of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

He’d be lying if he denied not warning her before jumping into the skies on purpose.

Lights were beginning to come on by the time he levelled out, and he squeezed Gwyn’s waist, prompting her to glance down. She smiled, her eyes tracking over all the tiny lights and their reflections off of the Sidra.

“I can never get used to this.”

He said nothing, just watched her. Sure, Velaris was beautiful and he himself remained in awe of the city, but nothing was more beautiful than Gwyn smiling. The way her eyes twinkled, the way her skin crinkled around her eyes and lips, the way her freckles shifted. Everything about her had him hypnotised, and he would never, ever, complain about anything in his life if he got lucky enough to see the sight all day, everyday.

For now, though, he was grateful he could even see the beautiful sight twice a day at training.

Too soon for Azriel’s happiness, his feet made contact with the floor on one of the house of wind’s balconies. It was the one closest to the library. He didn’t even know why he always picked this particular balcony to land on, but maybe in his subconscious, he wanted Gwyn to feel safer by landing in the place closest to her place of comfort.

Gently setting Gwyn on her feet, he straightened. She turned to him, and he knew what was coming.

It was a ritual, almost. After every outing of theirs, Gwyn would turn to him, smile, thank him, and then kiss his cheek.

It always left him a blushing mess.

He could see her preparing to rise onto her tiptoes, smiling up at him. Maybe if he kissed her cheek before she could, maybe he wouldn’t be left flustered?

Yes. And she might get shy and blush…It would be perfect, his shadows whispered excitedly.

But… no. It would be too forward of him.

Why? They complained.

Because I do not know if she is comfortable enough with me kissing her, he replied to them.

She likes master.

No. And even if she does, I do not know if-

Here’s the thing about his shadows. They were just that, shadows. Wispy, dark tendrils of smoke. But they could be corporeal when he needed them to be.

And being their own beings, when they wanted to be. 

So Azriel wasn’t expecting them to become semi solid at that moment as Gwyn’s lips were barely a hair's breadth away from his skin.

Nor was he expecting them to push against his other cheek, making him turn his head in surprise.

Azriel’s eyes widened as he realised the proximity between him and her. He only had a moment to turn his head away, hoping her lips would land on her cheeks.

Alas, he was too slow.

Her lips grazed his cheek, sure, but they also touched the corner of his. 

He froze, his gaze fixed on her face, the skin tinting a deep, beautiful shade of red. She pulled away quickly, her heartbeat so loud that Azriel could almost hear it.

He swallowed, his own heart beating in his throat. Blood rushed to his neck and ears as he looked at her, her eyes wide and lips parted.

I could get used to this sight, he thought.

But now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. He needed to apologise.

“Gwyn I-”

“Bye-”

They both spoke, then stopped. Waiting for the other to speak. Neither of them did.

It got so awkward to the point that Azriel sighed, taking a step away. Maybe it had not affected her as it did him. Maybe he had imagined her heart beating quicker. Maybe he imagined the blush on her face.

It was not a big deal, he wanted to tell himself.

But he knew that it was. A very big deal. At least to him.

But still, he bowed his head, offered her a smile. Motioned for her to speak.

“See you next week, shadowsinger.” She mumbled with a sweet smile. She didn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the one shadow that had refused to leave her side the entire outing and was now wound around her wrist.

He watched her go, feeling the need to say something but fearing it wouldn't be enough.

It had never been before.

He had never been.  Not for himself, not for anyone.

But, for Gwyn, could he ever be?

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 12 - is that a yes?

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language, so fluffy i can't

i recommend listening to flatline by 5SOS while listening to this chapter heheh

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the clock finally said 8pm, and you heard your doorbell ring as your heart fluttered in anticipation.

you walked to the door and opened it to a grinning rafe, holding you a bouquet of flowers and looking handsome in a black shirt and trousers.

"well look at you," he looked you up and down, "you look amazing."

"not as good as you." you replied as he pulled you in for a soft kiss, slow and deliberate, sending a rush of heat through you.

"you’re making it hard to leave," he whispered against your lips, his fingers still brushing over your skin as if he couldn’t get enough of the feel of you.

you chuckled softly, stepping back to take the bouquet of flowers from his hand. "don’t worry, you’ll get your chance later," you said, your voice teasing.

he grinned, a dangerous smile that always made your heart race. "i like the sound of that." with a wink, he offered you his arm which you took willingly, walking towards the car waiting.

the car soon pulled up to a cozy restaurant, tucked away in a quieter part of the city. it was intimate, the kind of place where the outside world seemed to disappear.

"you’re full of surprises, aren’t you? who knew the rafe cameron was such a romantic."

he leaned closer, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered, "you have no idea."

you felt a shiver run down your spine as he opened the door for you, his hand guiding you to the restaurant, leading you to a private booth.

once you were seated, his hand immediately found yours, his fingers curling around yours with a possessive, yet tender, grip.

"so how is the song doing?" you asked.

"a lot better than i thought it would," he said while giving your hand a tight squeeze. "the fans usually go crazy when they see me with a girl, but for some reason you've stolen their heart."

"smooth words cameron for someone that just admitted they'd been spotted with girls." you smirked.

"shut up, you know what i meant." he laughed. “but that’s not what matters right now.”

you raised an eyebrow, “oh? and what matters right now?”

he leaned in a little closer, his voice lowering, "what matters right now is that i’m here with you." he smiled, eyes locked on yours.

your heart fluttered in your chest, and you couldn’t hold back a smile. "i feel the same."

“good,” he whispered, his voice soft. “because i’m not going to let you go that easy.”

you chuckled softly, taking in this side of rafe you know no one else got to witness, and hopefully no one else ever would. "i'm not going anywhere."

the night went on perfectly, the chemistry only heightening through the laughter and happy conversations. it was a dream, talking about everything and nothing, enjoying each others company in the simplest way. his hand never left yours and you found comfort in every touch he made, never being close enough.

when it came to desert, a nervous energy came over rafe. as the waiter placed yours in front of you, it had 5 words written on it. your voice caught in your throat, "rafe" you said quietly.

rafe swallowed, his fingers tapping quickly on the table, "y/n, you're the most beautiful girl i've ever seen in my life," he started, "as soon as i met you that night i haven't been able to stop thinking about you. i don't want to loose you."

your heart fluttered at his words, a rush of warmth spreading through your chest. the vulnerability in his eyes made it clear how much he was putting himself out there. rafe cameron, the guy who had always been guarded and unpredictable, was asking you to be his in the most sincere way you’d ever seen.

for a moment, you didn’t speak, just letting the question sink in. his expression shifted, a mix of uncertainty as his eyes dropped, thinking you were going to say no.

"y/n?" he questioned, a new wave of nerves taking over him.

"of course i will be rafe." you smiled, and a huge grin spread across his lips.

"well thank fuck for that." he joked, bringing you in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

"i meant it when i said i'm not going anywhere." you whispered.

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a/n: well fucking FINALLY everybody cheer i was kicking my feet writing this

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to remain on the taglist you must interact with the story <3

[railwolf91]

“So that leaves only one suspect. Isn't that right, Officer Reyes?” Paul accused Carlos in front of everyone in the staff lounge of the 126 firehouse.

The group snickered at Paul’s incredulous accusation while TK defended his man: “Come on, Paul. Take off the tinfoil hat. It wasn't Carlos.”

Everyone knew there was no way it could be Carlos, not sweet, innocent Carlos.

“He's right. It was me.” Carlos announced with a smirk and not a hint of guilt.

The group gasped in shock as TK struggled to process the betrayal by the saint of the group “ Babe .” TK gasped.

“I could say I thought it was community, but that would be a lie.” Carlos stated as he stared down Paul in the stare down of the century, “The truth is, I was peckish and I wanted pudding. And I didn't care whose pudding I had to take in order to get it.”  chuckling as he continued to walk towards Paul

“And you know what? It was delicious .”

“Monster!” Paul shouted, “You are a monster!”

This was how Carlos ended up tied up and blindfolded once again in the 126 firehouse staff room. Stripped of his uniform, his gorgeous tan skin shimmered under the warm glow of the overhead lights, the oil on his body accentuating every sculpted curve and angle. His broad chest, perfectly defined with tight, chiseled muscles, rose and fell with shallow breaths. Each ridge of his abs looked like it had been carved by a master sculptor, leading the eye down to his narrow waist.

His thighs were thick and powerful, every muscle taut and defined, hinting at the strength that lay beneath. His firm, round ass was an undeniable centerpiece, almost glowing under the light, framed exquisitely by the red ropes that hugged his body with sinful precision. The crimson silk blindfold wrapped delicately around his eyes and the vivid red rope encasing his wrists contrasted beautifully against his golden skin, making him look like a living masterpiece—vulnerable yet commanding all at once.

“Uh, guys,” Nancy said, her voice hesitant but cutting through the heated atmosphere. Her gaze lingered for a moment too long, drinking in the breathtaking sight before she forced herself back to reality. This was... a lot. First off, Carlos was their friend. Second, he was TK’s fiancé.

“Isn’t this kinda... you know... unfair to Carlos?” she asked, though the words came out weaker than she intended.

Not that she could really complain. If she was honest, Carlos and TK’s relationship had been the centerpiece of more than one private daydream ever since she’d worked to get the two of them back together after Carlos’s house burned down. There was something magnetic about the two of them together—not just because they were both impossibly good looking, but because of the way they moved around each other, as if pulled together by fate, it was kinda romantic if she was honest.

The way TK’s hands would linger on Carlos, the way Carlos’s eyes light up every time he looked at TK.

Still, this? This was... unconventional, even for them.

TK grinned at her, one of his big stupid grins that lit up the room as he placed his hand on the small of Carlos’s bare back. “Babe, can you tell Nancy what color you’re at?”

Carlos groaned, looking up at the ceiling, or at least he would be if not for the blindfold.

“Babe, Nancy is going to worry that we’re assaulting you if you don’t speak up.”

Carlos bit his lip again, his cheeks going a dark red as Paul crossed his arms. “Alright then team, untie him…”

“Wait...wait”, Carlos said, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Fine, Green, I’m at Green.”

“Good boy,” TK murmured, his tone warm and soothing as he rubbed circles on Carlos’s back, grounding him.

Okay, so Carlos was okay with this, which was reassuring. Except…

“Wait, I’m sorry, but this opens up a whole new can of worms,” Nancy said, breaking the moment as her gaze flickered around the room, landing on a mix of confused and expectant faces. “It’s just—Carlos is TK’s fiancé, and he’s, well, naked, tied up, and oiled in front of everyone?”

Carlos’s head dipped, his voice barely audible. “She thinks I’m a slut.”

The words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them freezing the room in an awkward silence. Nancy’s face crumpled, regret washing over her. She hadn’t intended to imply anything, but hearing it spoken aloud—especially from Carlos himself—hit differently.

“Hey, hey, not at all, babe.” TK’s voice was immediate, gentle yet firm as he cupped Carlos’s face in his hands, forcing those dark, beautiful eyes to meet his own. “You’re not a slut. You’re my good boy, aren’t you?” His tone softened, full of love, before his gaze turned sharp and protective as he addressed Nancy. “What we do here doesn’t change who Carlos is. He’s still the most incredible, thoughtful man—and the best damn cop in Austin, period.”

Paul, seated nearby, nodded solemnly, adding weight to TK’s words. “Carlos just needs a space to let go completely—to be ruined—but only with people who understand and respect that. No one here is crossing any lines, Nancy. You know that.”

Nancy exhaled, her tension easing as she nodded slowly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...um, well..."

Marjan placed a reassuring hand on Nancy’s arm. “Come with me,” she said, guiding her toward the ambulance bay. “We’re out of lube anyway, and I can explain some important things while we grab more.”

While Marjan lead Nancy away to explain the situation, Paul and TK knelt down beside Mateo, who had both hands shamelessly groping Carlos’s firm ass

“Any dessert here?” Paul asked, his tone casual but laced with mischief.

TK chuckled, his grin wide. “You know there is, Paul.”

Mateo’s eyes sparkled as his grin turned wicked. “All I know is there’s a whole lot of cake right here,” he said, giving Carlos ass a playful squeeze. “And I’m dying for a taste.”

As Mateo said that, he leaned in, burying his face between Carlos's asscheeks. His tongue swiped across the tight, puckered hole, drawing a sharp gasp from Carlos' lips.

"Fuck, yes," Carlos hissed, arching back into the sensation. “Fuck, god, please….”

“I think he likes it,” TK said, his tone smug as he watched Mateo eat his partner's tight pink hole, as Carlos whimpered and moaned under the impact of Mateo’s tongue, twisting and pulling against his restraints as TK's hand slowly made it way up Carlos's chest to just gently wrap around Carlos's neck, applying just enough pressure for Carlos to be aware it was there, but not enough to hurt him.

“Yeah, I wonder if he likes it as much as he enjoyed my last pudding cup,” Paul grumbled, narrowing his eyes at Carlos, the sight of Carlos enjoying himself was almost unbearable given Officer Reyes' heinous crime - Paul had been looking forward to that pudding cup. “This is supposed to be a punishment , TK.” Paul reminded, with a sharp smack to Carlos’s asscheek. 

Squeezing Carlos's neck gently, TK leaned forward to whisper in his ear "Did you hear that babe, you've been a bad bad boy."

Meanwhile Marjan was enjoying explaining the situation to Nancy.

Nancy leaned against the side of the ambulance, her arms crossed as she watched Marjan with a thoughtful frown. She tapped a finger against her chin, her expression sceptical. “I don’t know, I always thought Carlos was, you know… confident . He seems so sure of himself most of the time, if anything I would of thought it would of been, you know, uh TK that um…”

“Oh I know,” Marjan giggled, “Right, like Carlos definitely puts TK in place, probably with cuffs, he might even use the baton.”

Nancy blushed at the thought, although honestly, she had pictured it before. If she was brutally honest, in the middle of their stupid breakup over the loft she had, maybe, thought to herself that all Carlos needed to do was rail the bitch out of TK.

In fact, if she was a little too honest, she may have pictured a scenario where Officer Reyes would storm into the firehouse, demanding to see TK. Bratty TK would sulk up to him, and Carlos would rip the shirt off TK in a heartbeat before turning him around, bending him over the firetruck and claiming him right there.

Her mind wandered as she remembered her favourite scenario:

Carlos strode into the firehouse with purpose, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on his target. "TK!" he called out, his deep voice echoing through the building.

TK looked up from where he had been talking to some of the other firefighters, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Carlos? What are you doing here? We are broken up and I don't want to see you"

The 126 firehouse would gasp, like it was a soap opera.

Carlos wouldn't respond, simply striding over to where TK stood. The other firefighters would watch in stunned silence as Carlos grabbed TK by the front of his shirt and yanked him closer. "I'm here to claim what's mine," Carlos growled like he was in a 1950's movie.

Before TK could even react, Carlos would rip his shirt open, sending buttons flying over the fire station floor. The scent of TK's cologne and sweat hit Carlos's nose and he inhaled deeply, a hunger stirring in his gut. "Oh fuck yeah," he groaned, pushing TK towards the firetruck.

TK stumbled but quickly regained his footing, his eyes wide. "Carlos, we can't-"

His words were cut off as Carlos spun him around and shoved him face first against the side of the truck. "Shut up and hold on tight," Carlos commanded, his voice rough and manly. He grabbed both of TK's wrists and pinned them above his head with one large hand, using his other to yank down TK's pants and briefs in one rough motion.

TK gasped as the cool air hit his bare ass but it quickly turned into a moan as Carlos kneaded the firm globes of his cheeks. "Fuck, you've got the best ass," Carlos praised, giving one cheek a hard smack. He followed it with another on the other cheek, grinning as he watched them jiggle.

"Please Carlos, not here," TK whimpered weakly even as his hips pushed back.

"Too bad," Carlos said, spreading TK open with his thumbs to expose his tight pink hole. He spat on it before pressing a finger in, working TK open with ruthless efficiency.

TK's cock was fully hard now, drooling precum on the floor as Carlos finger fucked him open. "Gonna fuck you so good," Carlos promised, pulling his fingers away and replacing them with the thick head of his cock. With one hard thrust he sank balls deep into TK's perfect ass.

"Oh god!" TK cried out, not caring about the audience anymore, lost to the sensations of being so suddenly and thoroughly claimed by Carlos.

Carlos set a brutal pace, pounding into TK's ass like a man possessed. The obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room. "Take it, take my cock," Carlos grunted, his hips slamming against TK's ass. "Gonna fill this ass up, make you mine."

TK could only moan and take it, his cock leaking steadily as Carlos used his body. 

"That's it, fuckin' take it," Carlos snarled. His fingers dug into TK's hips hard enough to bruise as he chased his pleasure, determined to mark every inch of TK.

After a few more deep thrusts, Carlos came with a loud groan, painting TK's insides with his release. He collapsed over TK's back, hips twitching as he rode out his high.

They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing heavily. Finally, Carlos pulled out and tucked himself away. "We're not done," he said, giving TK's ass a pat before throwing the naked paramedic over his shoulder and carrying him out to his patrol car.

The whole 126 fire station would clap as they left.

The next day, TK would walk into work, and Nancy would ask him how things were, and he would admit that he and Carlos were back together...

It would have been better for both of them than TK almost dying (again) in a lake and less stressful on everyone; poor Tommy had blamed herself for weeks and months afterwards. 

Okay, TK probably would have still fallen in the lake and almost died. He was a magnet for near-death experiences. 

Marjan, perched on the edge of the ambulance step, chuckled—though the sound came out more like a snort, which brought Nancy back to reality.

"Do I want to know what you were just thinking of?" Marjan asked with a knowing smile as Nancy played dumb, "I don't know what you're talking about, Marjan."

"Ah ha, sure", Marjan replied with a smirk, “Anway, Don’t get me wrong. As TK said, he’s still Carlos. But there are definitely… layers.” She gestured vaguely with her hand as if those layers were floating in the air. “It’s just that when it comes to certain types of people—people in positions of authority—he gets a little… different.”

Nancy raised a sceptical eyebrow again, this time tilting her head. “Different, how?”

Marjan gave her an incredulous look, as if she couldn’t believe Nancy hadn’t noticed. “Seriously, Nance? You’ve never picked up on how submissive he can be around powerful people? Like, come on.”

Nancy blinked, clearly taken aback. “Submissive? Carlos? Are we talking about the same Carlos Reyes?”

Marjan rolled her eyes dramatically, leaning forward. “Yes, that Carlos Reyes. Look, he’s not falling over himself but think about it. Put him in a room with a commanding officer or even Captain Strand, and suddenly he’s all ‘yes, sir,’ ‘no, ma’am,’ head lowered like he’s waiting to get it bitten off.”

Nancy paused, replaying interactions in her mind. “I mean… maybe? But that’s just professionalism. He’s a cop. That’s how they’re trained.”

“Sure,” Marjan said, drawing the word out with a knowing smile. “But it’s not just professionalism. It’s like he has this instinct to defer to people who radiate authority. It’s subtle, but once you see it, you can’t unsee it .”

Nancy squinted as if trying to make sense of what Marjan was saying. “You think it’s… a personality thing? Or is this, like, a deeper… I don’t know, psychological thing?”

Marjan shrugged, leaning back against the ambulance. “Could be both. TK mentioned something once about Carlos and his dad, right? Maybe growing up with a guy like Gabriel Reyes set some precedent in his mind. Who knows? All I’m saying is, he’s got some stuff to work through in that department.”

Nancy considered this for a moment, then smirked. “So what you’re saying is, Mr Perfect, might have a few cracks in the old armour.”

“Exactly.” Marjan grinned. “But hey, don’t we all? Besides, it’s not like it’s a bad thing. TK clearly doesn’t mind, and Carlos is still Carlos.”

As Marjan selected a bottle from the stash, Nancy broke the silence. “So… if this is about ‘ruining’ Carlos,” she said hesitantly, “am I supposed to, like, call him a dirty little…?”

Marjan laughed, the sound loud and rich in the quiet of the ambulance bay. “Oh, no, no, no. TK would kick you out faster than you could dial 9-1-1 if you tried that.” She shook her head, a playful grin softening her words. “Listen, when Carlos is in that headspace, sure, he might let you say that stuff, but that’s not the vibe here. TK’s all about positivity—affirming, rewarding. It’s good boy, great job, well done. Nothing degrading or cruel. Ever. From what I understand, Carlos has never had a chance to let his guard down, and TK doesn't want to take advantage of it.”

Nancy nodded slowly, digesting the information. “Got it. Positive vibes only.”

Marjan’s expression turned more serious as she placed the lube in Nancy’s hand. “Exactly. And while we’re clearing things up, let’s talk about my role here. I watch, Nancy. That’s it. No touching. That’s a personal boundary for me because of my faith. I’m here for support and to keep things safe, but I don’t physically participate.”

Nancy’s brows furrowed slightly. “Because of your faith?”

Marjan nodded. “Yeah, it’s about honoring what I believe while still being here for my friends. It’s a balance, but one I take seriously.”

She glanced at Nancy, her tone softening again. “Look, everyone has their own boundaries and reasons for being here. The important thing is that we all respect each other, understand the rules, and keep this a safe space for Carlos, and everyone. That’s what matters most.”

Nancy took a deep breath, feeling a bit steadier. “Okay. Thanks, Marjan. I think I get it now.”

Marjan smiled, giving her a light nudge toward the door. “Good. Now, let’s get back before they think we’re using the lube.” Marjan gave her a cheeky wink, causing Nancy to blush. She knew the firefighter side of the 126 was a bit more risque, but this was full-on, even by their standards.

Making their way back to the staff room, where Carlos remained on full display in the middle of the room, hands bound above him to the roof, legs spread, cock hard.

“We should call him ‘community property’,” Paul said proudly, repeating Carlos’s words from earlier as his hand teased and tugged on the cop's hard cock, tugging just hard enough to keep him on edge but not hard enough for Carlos to get off as Carlos panted and begged for more.

Nancy looked at Mateo, who looked a tad guilty. “I haven’t been involved in any of these sessions since we hooked up, I promise” At Nancy’s further look, Mateo gave her a small, guilty smile. “But I have missed it; I mean, look at him.”

Nancy did look at him; Carlos looked like a goddamn model, shining under the fluorescent light,. Unfortunately, the blinds had to be closed, preventing natural light from coming in.

His chest was gorgeous, like it had been hand sculpted by the angels, his nipples perky and begging to be pinched while his cock, was beautiful, hard and purple. 

“Okay,” Nancy said, “So Carlos ate Paul's pudding so he could get punished?”

“Yes,” the group answered in unison, their voices drowning out Carlos’s faint but adamant “No.”

Nancy’s hands glided over Carlos’s chest, her fingers skillfully twisting and tugging at his sensitive nipples, drawing helpless moans from his lips. Behind him, Mateo knelt, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles around Carlos’s entrance, his touch maddeningly gentle and teasing - just enough to keep Carlos’s cock rock hard and leaking precum as TK knelt down next to his naked finance. 

It didn’t take a rocket genius to work out TK’s plan, and to be fair, Nancy thought if her partner’s cock looked as tasty and neglect as Carlos did, she would do the same thing - and clearly Paul could see where this was going.

“TK,” Paul warned, his tone stern but now tinged with amusement rather than anger, “this is supposed to be a punishment , remember?”

In response, TK let out an actual whine, his pout almost childlike in contrast to the heat of the moment. Paul rolled his eyes and shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Fine, go ahead,” he relented.

Without a moment's hesitation, TK took his fiancé’s rock-hard cock into his mouth, his lips wrapping around him with practiced ease despite Carlos's impressive size. Carlos gasped sharply, his body arching as TK’s skilled mouth worked him over. In seconds, the moans spilling from Carlos’s lips turned into needy whimpers, his resolve melting under the onslaught.

TK bobbed up and down on Carlos's cock before teasing Carlos's cock head, purple and engorged as TK's hands gently massaged his partners full balls.

If she thought Carlos looked broken before, it had nothing on him now, whimpering and begging under TK’s deep-throating skills, she could probably ask anything right now and Carlos would agree without a second thought, all his brain power being drained by the assault on his senses. 

Behind him, Mateo had finished his rimjob, looking at Carlos's slick hole with a pride she normally only saw when he had cleaned the firetrucks before he slid a finger deep into Carlos’s tight hole, his movements deliberate and teasing, coaxing soft cries with every motion as his fingers teased Carlos’s prostate.

If someone had told Nancy that she’d be getting turned on while watching her boyfriend finger-fuck their colleague’s undeniably hot fiancé in the lunchroom, she would’ve slapped them. Yet, there she was, unable to tear her eyes away.

Paul’s return broke the moment, drawing all eyes to him. In his hand, he held a bright pink dildo coated in something brown.

“What the hell is that?” Marjan asked, her head tilting in disbelief.

TK momentarily released Carlos’s cock with a loud pop, glancing up with curiosity.

“It’s chocolate pudding,” Paul said matter-of-factly. “Since he ate my last one, I figured he could share.”

Marjan raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “It looks like something else, though…” She turned her head to defer to TK.

“Yeah, Paul, I’m sorry, I’m not going to let you make Carlos suck clean a dildo covered in brown stuff, even if it is chocolate.” TK intervened. 

Paul’s shoulders sagged slightly, a look of disappointment crossing his face. Marjan’s expression softened, and she smiled gently. “Come on, Paul, there’s some whipped cream in the fridge. That would look way more appropriate—and a lot less questionable.”

“To be fair,” Nancy chimed in, her voice playful as her nails traced light patterns down Carlos’s chest, making him shiver, “it would. And let’s be honest, it’d be a hell of a lot hotter.”

Paul grunted in annoyance but grabbed the dildo from the kitchen counter and headed to the sink to wash it thoroughly with warm water, complaining about the loss of a second pudding cup. Once clean, he reached for the can of whipped cream, spraying a heavy coat of the sweet, fluffy topping all over the toy's surface until it was fully covered.

Turning back to face Carlos, Paul held up the now dessert-drenched dildo. "You want pudding, Officer Reyes?" he asked sternly as Carlos merely moaned in response, the 126 team watching closely. "I hear you enjoy eating other people's puddings."

Moaning wasn’t enough for Paul; he and TK always demanded full, proper answers from their good boy.

“I said, do you want pudding, Officer Reyes?” Paul repeated, firmer as Carlos nodded.

"I..." Carlos swallowed hard, his voice strained. "Yes, please, Firefighter Strickland," he managed to get out.

Paul stepped closer, the dildo now a lurid, sinful treat. "Then open up and clean this dildo off then," he commanded firmly.

Carlos parted his lips, taking the pink cream-covered dildo into his mouth. He began to suck and lap at it eagerly, his tongue swirling around to lick up every last trace of whipped cream. It was borderline pornographic, Nancy thought to herself - Carlos tied up, blindfolded, servicing a sex toy like the good boy he was.

Fuck, if that was how he blew TK then he could see why TK put a ring on it at 03:18 in the morning - fuck, Nancy wasn't sure how they got out of bed every morning.

Paul pulled the now clean dildo out of Carlos's mouth, letting the pink plastic head sit on his bottom lip, “how did that taste, Officer?”

“It was delicious”, Carlos replied, but gone was his cocky, slightly arrogant tone replaced by a more polite tone.

Mateo, still kneeling by Carlos's ass, winked at Nancy before he pressed his two fingers hard on Carlos's prostrate, causing the cop to twitch uncontrollably as he moaned before Paul started to mouth fuck him with a dildo.

Nancy looked over at a smirking TK who was leaning against a sofa watching the show, their eyes locked and TK grinned widely. “It’s fucking hot, huh?”

Sometimes, Nancy forgot TK was a New York gay, the stories she had heard of Manhattan Gay Clubs....

There was a noise, and Nancy was impressed at how quickly the team moved, Marjan and Mateo holding up a firefighter jacket - it wasn’t enough to hide Carlos, but it at least covered him as Captain Strand and his girlfriend Kendra stood there.

Kendra looked shocked for a moment before looking to Captain Strand, who took it in his stride. “Paul, we need you.”

Paul sighed, putting down the toy before patting Carlos’s face gently. “Till next time.” 

Paul, Owen and Kendra disappear until Owen reappears, “You’re all meant to be cleaning, not milking my future son-in-law, damn it, something you need to take care of yourself.”

Nancy gaped in disbelief as Owen roughly grabbed hold of Carlos's stiff cock. He began pumping it vigorously, his hand a blur as he worked the shaft. "Come on, Carlos. I don't have all day. Cum for me, boy."

Carlos flushed a deep crimson as Owen jerked his head towards Mateo. "Get the badge ready."

Mateo scrambled to obey, positioning the badge just in time. Carlos let out a strangled groan as his cock twitched and pulsed in Owen's grip. Thick ropes of pearly cum splattered across the metal, with a few errant drops landing on the floor.

"Clean your badge, don't miss a spot," Mateo ordered as he raised the cum covered badge to Carlos's mouth, which Carlos licked it clean, his tongue working over the ridges and along the leather.

“How clean is the floor?” Owen asked looking down at the few drops of cum that missed the badge as TK stepped forward to put his hand on the small of Carlos's back. 

“Dad,” TK warned as Marjan shook her head to kill any suggestion that Carlos could clean it up with his tongue. “Nowhere near clean enough; I’ll mop it up later, Cap.”

“Good,” Owen replied, nodding in approval. “I don’t want my son-in-law getting sick. What do you say, Carlos?”

“Thank you, Captain Strand,” Carlos said softly, his voice steady but faintly strained.

Owen gave a satisfied nod, his grin both warm and slightly teasing. “Good boy,” he said with a chuckle before his tone shifted back to an authoritative cadence. “Now, remember, just because I’m away doesn’t mean you all get to slack off. You’ve got jobs to do, and I expect them to be done to my standards. No excuses.”

He swept a pointed look around the room, his gaze landing on TK, who was standing beside Carlos, his hands busy undoing the bindings that had held his fiancé in place. TK didn’t bother hiding the playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he glanced up at his father.

“Sorry, Dad,” TK quipped, his tone light and full of mischief. “You’re not my Captain; besides, I’m a little preoccupied at the moment.” He turned his attention back to Carlos, his expression softening as he focused on the task at hand.

Owen rolled his eyes but didn’t press the point, choosing instead to leave the room to catch up with Paul and Kendra on their mission to prove her innocence. 

As the door clicked shut, TK shifted closer to Carlos, his hands gentle as he worked on untying the binds that held Carlos’s hands above his head. “Such a good boy,” TK murmured, his voice low and soothing, a stark contrast to earlier. 

Carlos sagged, his body giving in as TK caught him, steadying his weight effortlessly. Marjan gave Nancy a nudge and whispered, “This is their time now. TK always takes care of Carlos after... you know. Usually, I grab them a bottle of water, maybe blue Gatorade, and a cookie before giving them space.”

Nancy followed Marjan’s lead, stepping back as TK gently carried Carlos to the couch. Settling into the cushions, TK cradled his fiancé close, his arms wrapping around him protectively. His fingers traced slow, soothing circles over Carlos’s back, and Carlos instinctively curled into the embrace, drawing comfort and warmth from TK’s steady presence.

Nancy watched them for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips before her own desires took over. Turning, she grabbed Mateo by the wrist, her grip firm and insistent.

“I need you. Now,” she said, her voice low and urgent, her body already aching with need. Without waiting for a response, she led him toward the bathrooms, the wetness in her groin needing urgent attention. 

"Great" Marjan said to herself, looking around the now abandoned room, "I guess it's just me left to tidy this place up before Cap gets back, go 126 huh."

Who ate Paul’s last pudding?

This is forever one of the funniest scene of Tarlos and 126! 😆

[gingerteafairy]

friends conversations lead to this kind of idea @blueikky

𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 + 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 masterlist

𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐧: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

Tate wouldn’t feel embarrassed to ask you out and immediately establish that you’re the only one who matters to him. He’s certain that you’re his soulmate, and he’d do anything to protect the little world the two of you share. He would go to great lengths to keep it safe. Hobbies would include listening to music together, making fun of new clothes from the mall, playing card/board games and discovering some online game where you both could both play on his computer and your phone simultaneously. He’d also give you a pair of headphones as a gift.

𝐤𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Kit kept vision for the future, getting involved with someone with the goal of building a family, overcoming challenges, and dreaming of growing old together. He makes it a point to be a safe harbor, which can sometimes cause stress due to his constant drive to be the perfect husband, finding in you a reason to fight and lean on during tough times. He knew you were the one from the very first date but wanted to wait a little longer to propose so as not to scare you off. Kit would always surprise you with random gifts, like a pair of earrings he thought would match your eyes perfectly. He’d pay attention to the little details, wanting to make you feel special with thoughtful gestures that show how much he cares.

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭!𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐞: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

Typical boyfriend material. You two would explore life together, with trips to the movies and amusement parks becoming part of your routine. If you ever struggled with a test, he would help you study, even if the subject was completely different from what he knew. He’d definitely fix your computer for free if it broke since he spent a lot of time watching YouTube tutorials as a kid (he even recorded one).

𝐳𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞!𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐞: 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬

Even without knowing it, he would be your anchor. With a lot of patience, you’d help him understand the world, teach him to speak and write, guide him in learning how to be “grown-up.” It would be hard, but in no time, Kyle would become a strong man, protecting you and the mansion with his life.

𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩. 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡: 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫

James' captivated by darkness and the concept of sin, inherited from his father. You, being a sweet-looking girl in a stable relationship, would be a formidable prey. With a carefully controlled tone, accent, and just the right amount of manipulation, he would lead you into adultery and eventually much worse, with you becoming his protégé. Even though James March is quite the tightwad, he’d make sacrifices to give you things depending on the hunt you two had together, from an expensive necklace to your favorite food. He’d only offer these gestures as a way to mark a special moment, something that proves he values the bond you share—even if it’s always under his own twisted terms.

𝐤𝐚𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧: 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭

The relationship with Kai would be intense and complicated. It was too shallow to be just a relationship but too deep to be just a friends-with-benefits situation. It would be a draining relationship, where the question “What are we?” would linger, only to be answered with “We don’t need labels” by Kai. It'd be definitely intense, passionate, and unforgettable. However, the relationship would also be restrictive due to his insecurity and jealousy, at times manipulating you when you wanted to leave, using compromising photos and messages to keep you tied to him.

𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬

Austin Sommers is pretty laid-back. You were a great friend to him, and sometimes he’d stick to the promise of “If we’re both single at 40, we’ll get married and have three cats.” As the person closest to him, he would definitely use some of your shared moments and phrases in his books, even adding you as a character, with a few tweaks here and there.

𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

Like Austin, he’s chill, living in the moment, using you as the muse for many of his art pieces. As a true introvert, it would take him a while to open up, but soon the two of you would be cuddling after hours of oversharing about life. It would be obvious that you both shared deep feelings for each other, but a barrier of professionalism might prevent the relationship from progressing into something more. He'd give you little paintings and handmade fridge magnets.

𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟: 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

Despite being a hero, Peter wouldn’t have the courage to ask you out right away. He’d stew over that strange feeling for a while, until one day he’d stop suddenly during a walk and ask if you wanted to be his girlfriend. If you didn’t hear him, he’d pretend nothing happened and wait for another opportunity, hoping you’d be distracted when he tried again. If you heard, he'd ran to his house and make paper rings for you both.

𝐦𝐚𝐱 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

Max'd be a sweet, goofy boyfriend, always taking pictures of you, keeping a special box just for storing all the memories. He’d let you play with his hair, wear his clothes, and, of course, he’d snap pictures of you wearing every single one of them. For your birthday, he’d give you a Polaroid camera, since you complained that he always takes photos of everyone else, but never has one taken of him.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐤𝐚: 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 (𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲)

Your relationship would be intense from the start to the end. Impulsive as he is, he’d take you to get married in Vegas, not knowing that by doing so, you’d legally be married on paper. Well, he always wanted to be yours in the end, and Vegas was just a bonus from fate.

[redcherrystars]

Things That Linger

A/n: I’ve never really written on tumblr before, and am still learning the mechanics, so I’ll do my best to do Sylus justice!

content: (wc790) lnds Sylus, afab reader, pre established relationship; pet names (kitten, sweetheart), hurt/comfort, just lots of fluff <3

Rain pours beyond the window, tiny raindrops racing down the glass panels. Years ago, when you were little, maybe you would have placed imaginary bets on which drop would win, or which one would become the biggest, but certainly not today.

Today was bad. The mission assigned to you by the Hunter’s Association had gone horribly wrong, Tara, your mission partner got injured, and the intel that had been gathered to secure the success of your mission had been falsified.

Sniffling, you wipe a tear from your cheeks and start to shift from your knees on the plush sofa by the window, only to feel large warm hands grasp your hips.

“What’s a kitten like you doing in my humble abode?” Sylus’s warm, deep voice appears by your ear. He shifts you gently into a more comfortable sitting position, and he placed himself beside you.

“Hey Sy.” Your words are choked, trying to contain your emotions.

He knew you were in his house before you were ever aware of his presence. Maybe it was Mephisto, or Luke or Kieran sending their boss man a text, but deep down, a part of you just knew he could sense it. Or maybe it had been because you’d left your boots on the black shoe rack in the foyer.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” His hand goes to your cheek, his red eyes softening slightly, and his brows creased slightly with an impending sense of worry.

“Mission…went badly…” was all you could get out before the tears came flooding back, roaring behind your eyes and being flushed like a waterfall. With gentle fingers, Sylus coax’s you into his arms.

The guilt was overwhelming. Maybe if you had been a few seconds faster, a little stronger, a little smarter-anything-maybe Tara wouldn’t have gotten hurt, the mission wouldn’t have gone wrong.

“Deep breaths sweetheart.” Sylus’s voice came as a soothing murmur, gently sitting you on his lap and rubbing soft circles on your back.

You feel a soft kiss be brushed against your forehead, which you rest on his shoulder as your breathing begins to even out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks softly. You shake your head no, and Sylus won’t push; he knows with absolute certainty that you will open up to him when you are ready.

Before you know it, you find yourself sitting on the counter in the bathroom attached to the master bedroom, hot steam filling the air as Sylus turns the shower on. He steps out of the room into his bedroom, and returns with a large maroon teeshirt of his and a pair of boxer briefs. Setting the clothes on the counter, he carefully undressed you, before helping you into the shower.

15 minutes of wallowing under the fiery hot water, scrubbing the grime off of your body, you step out of the shower to find Sylus waiting with a warm black towel. The fabric had to have been ridiculously expensive, but he treated you like his most prized possession. With cautious touch, he set angles and dries your hair with a second fluffy towel, before letting you dress in his clothes.

His comforting scent-something amidst citrus and mahogany envelopes your sense, providing a rush of comfort to your weary mind. Crawling onto the pristine red comforter of his bed, you watch as the tall man approaches his dresser, removes his perfectly tailored dress shirt, belt and dark grey slacks. Then he slips into something much more comfortable: a black tank top and loose red shorts, providing a glimpse of his bulging pectorals.

Sylus briefly leaves his bedroom, before returning with a large glass of water in his hand, all for you. You mumble a soft thanks and greedily suck down the liquid, relief filling you as it quenches your thirst. Onychinus’s leader pulls back the red comforter, revealing black silk sheets and sits back against the headboard, only to pull your soft body into his arms. You let out a squeak, but not in protest.

The warm embrace of sleep begins to take root as Sylus brushes soft kisses to your cheeks, neck and shoulders, massaging gentle circles into your hips with his thumbs.

“Feel any better?” He asks softly, tilting your chin up to look him in the eye.

“Mhm.” You nod, before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for taking care of me..”

“You don’t have to thank me for the care you deserve. Not ever.” He gently runs his fingers through your hair, lulling you into a sleepy haze.

“You know I love you, right?” Sylus asks, his voice low, pulling the downy blanket over you.

“I know.” You reply, before burying your face into his neck. “I love you too.”