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lokisgoodgirl · 7 months

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A Prince's Release [Asgard!Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki takes a break from a diplomatic feast, and finds he is not alone in the hallways of Asgard. (w/c 1.9k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Oral. Loki POV. Soft dom.

Loki’s footsteps echoed away from the buzz of the feast. And as their raucous mirth grew quieter, so did his mind.

He glanced out the arched window to the side, noting the glitter of Asgard below. He had not been released from his diplomatic obligations entirely. Not officially. Not yet. But he needed this.

He dissolved the ceremonial armour adorning his shoulders, his forearms. It’s gold faded, revealing the simple earthen green of the leathers beneath. Hair that had lain nestled beneath his helmet fell free against his collar. Suddenly, a fist gathered the rear of his tunic. He adopted a battle stance without thinking, spinning with malice in his eyes. His features softened; resolve softening as his dagger hovered beneath the tip of your chin. “My Lady, you should be more careful.” he murmured darkly, running the flat of the thin blade to meet your parted lips. You kissed it.

Several guards lining the open arches sank into shadow.

Loki felt the sharp thud of polished marble flat on his back as you pushed him to the wall, the biting cool it surely held almost chilling through his leathers. You had manoeuvred him to the inside of one of the archway columns. Concealed, almost.

Audacious, this one; he mused. His mind was fire, the heavy dullness chess of diplomatic politics replaced by a haze of lust.

The leather tunic squeaked, sliding against the marble surface as you swept your tongue deeper inside his mouth like a demon. He felt your familiar digits combing through his hair. Pulling. Searching. Claiming, he thought, sliding a moist palm around the nape of your neck.

Loki liked that. He tugged the back of your evening dress sharply, pulling you away. With an inquiring smirk, he tilted his head. “What has gotten into you, little thing? To accost a Prince of Asgard so..." he tutted playfully. Loki gleefully watched as heat rose in your skin. He could feel it; warming the cool night air.

“You, obviously” you huffed, feigned annoyance losing its effect as your grappling fingers tugged at the laces of his trousers. “My prince,” you added as an after-thought.

The palace had ears everywhere. “I think not,” Loki smiled as he let his knuckles trail over your shoulder, down your bare bicep. “It has been ten long days since I’ve gotten into you. My father has seen to that.” The roll of your eyes made his stomach flip. Oh, how he loved this. How he had missed it.

He turned the smile flexing against his lips into a bite. “Loki,” you whimpered petulantly, sliding your hand down the crotch of his leathers as you tried in vain to launch at his mouth. He held you back with ease, your beautiful brow scrunched. “You have not answered my letters, your servants turn me away...they say you are entertaining the diplomats every night,”

The game, Loki smirked with deep satisfaction, is afoot. “Uh-uh-uh,” he tutted, making sure his lips stayed open. He narrowed his eyes, teasing you. His tongue rested on the ridge of his mouth, noting every microscopic shiver of arousal course across your skin.

“Show me how much you missed me during my diplomatic conclave. Missed him.” He nodded down to the weighty arousal hardening in your covert hand. “What?” you gasped, glancing around the empty hallway with a modesty unbecoming of your true nature. Starlight glittered against golden pillars, mounted flames crackling against the shouts from the feast hall beyond.

Loki shrugged innocently, a small smile curling his lip. His stomach was fizzing. He could feel the skin of his balls tightening beneath his ceremonial trappings. The inches of his mighty cock thickening with each roaring second of silence.

While he had been bound to nod and smile during peace talks and the intricacies of trade agreements over an endless ten days, all that had filled his mind was thoughts of your hot mouth wrapping around him. The glide of your tongue, the pressure of your fingertips digging hard into his flesh.

The torchlight made every vein of your irises sparkle as you slowly raised your gaze to meet his own.

There was a mischievous glint in them, an unspoken language honed between you saying all that needed to be said.

You craned upwards, pressing your lips against the shell of his ear with a licentious sigh. “Anyone could walk by,” you breathed, making Loki shudder. His thighs clenched, an unprompted groan rumbling in his throat. “Oh yes,” he gasped as your fingers toyed with the leather straps slung against his hips, “anyone.” The belts and sheath fell to the marble by his ankles with a series of thuds. It’s happening, he thought incredulously as you sank to your knees. The rustle of your skirts pooling on the ground made Loki brace. You never took your eyes off his, tugging the leather trousers down his hips.

Loki rested his head back on the marble pillar, lids fluttering closed as his hand wrapped around his cock. He jolted as the foreskin pulled back, stroking gently as you watched him. She’s actually going to-

His breath hitched, jaw clenching as your palms slid up the solid bulge of his femurs.

You squeezed.

“G-gods” Loki heard himself stammer, cringing.

Hold it together, he chided; letting his hand fall to the side. You are a Prince of Asgard. But knowing your talents, he suddenly wished he had something to hold on to.

The small puff of air that erupted from your lips made him straighten, spine pressing flat to the mirror. “I’ve missed you,” you whispered against his cock. Loki took a deep breath, choking ferociously on the exhale as you swallowed the tip. He clenched and unclenched his fists, resisting the urge to tangle his fingers in your hair like a commoner. The warmth was valhalla. No matter how many times he experienced it, the god found himself eternally unprepared. All of his senses were heightened. The rush of desire and long-held fantasies of this act, in this place, welling in his bloodstream as you swallowed him deeper. Lips made a vacuum on the girth, the feeling of your fingers circled tight around the root. Squeezing. Merciless. They tugged lightly at his public hair with every targeted pump. Wet. Your blowjobs were always so fucking wet.

He suddenly realised he was moaning. Loudly. The gnash of his teeth grinding shocked him back to reality, feeling the straining vein in his neck soften. Loki looked down, hearing the whoreish slurps and groans from your mouth as he thrust gently against your tongue. He juddered, palms slapping against the marble. “F-ffuck, darling...uh, y-yes,” he heard someone whine, “like that - just...like, like that.”

The hand pressed against one quivering thigh suddenly intertwined with his own. Loki watched, entranced as you brought it to the back of your head. “Oh, slut” he murmured in wonder, the feral rumble surprising even himself, “my slut.”

The effort not to slam his cock down your throat was inhuman. Appropriate, Loki grit; as your travelling saliva began to slosh against the crease of his thighs. With every moan-punctuated bob of your head, he guided you. Encouraged you. Yes, darling. Så jævla bra. Goddess, only you. No one fucks me like you. His pants of devotion, carnal and otherwise, filled the open promenade like incense. They wafted into the night air like smoke, each filth-soaked groan from his throat louder than the last. He could hear no buzz from the feasting hall, not anymore. All he could hear was blood thundering in his ears.

Tentatively, he let his gaze fall on the opposing pillar. Its polished surface held a mirage of you both, his towering body with your worshipping form nestled against his thighs.

Beneath the moonlight, cheekbones slashed the angles of his face in the faint reflection. Your eager body knelt between his spread legs was a tableau worthy of the masters of this realm. But not even Kvasir could capture such rapturous eros, he mused fleetingly; before pushing your head deeper against his cock.

You moaned muffled approval, both hands sliding up his obliques beneath the leather tunic. Your fingers curled around his abdomen. Loki felt his thighs begin to shake.

He raised his hands behind his head. Fingers scraped back the hair at his temples, a shuddering sigh racking his chest. Errant tendrils caught between his digits, tugging as another quaking gasp snaked from his throat. He laced the fingers behind his skull, stomach clenching as your sucking intensified. He marvelled at his image, the features blurred but no less impressive. No wonder you were insatiable. Each delve of your mouth, each drag of your hardened lips, each swipe of your talented tongue. Faster. Harder, as he watched himself come undone. He was going to explode. His ass clenched, trying to stop the wave of cum building in his loins. The one that would soon be sloshing down the back of your throat. He couldn’t take his eyes off himself. Off of you. The ceremonial leather tight against his biceps had begun to split under the skill of your mouth, the heat of your tongue and your breath and your fingers. His jaw hung open, chin pressed to his chest. It was wild. He was an animal. A king. He was- F-fuck, In the marble’s reflection, Loki could just see the slick of your drool glinting down to his knees in the lick of firelight, smeared by needy palms. Deviant, he thought as power welled in his deepest core, and she’s all mine. His grip of your ornately designed hair tightened, just for a second. The pants were deafening, broken gasps and moans of your name shaking the very stone beneath his feet as the pillar to his back crunched with each twitch of his shoulders. The responding settle of your fingers around his hips was the signal he needed. The signal he craved. With a barely tempered roar, the god’s ass clenched painfully; bucking forwards. He threw his head back against the pillar with a crack, jaw clenched to the ceiling as the world went black.

Stars burst behind his eyelids, the force of climax tearing through his body like ripping leather. All he could feel was pleasure, warmth from your heavenly mouth caressing him over the edge of sanity as his knees buckled. Your fingers tightened around his hips, rocking him gently through the final, strangled breaths.

In the way you always did in these stolen moments, you tucked his softening cock into his leathers with a kiss; fingers deftly weaving the laces together. You climbed his trunk, tucking damp hair behind his ears.

“I missed you,” he murmured breathlessly, tasting himself in every desperate catch of your lips.

Through the haze, he watched with slanted brows as you ran a thumb from the base of your chin to your mouth before inspecting it. A thick layer of white coated the curve. You sucked slowly. “Ten days, my Prince,” you chided solemnly, before the smile he loved so much began to dance.

Loki winked, his senses returning. And his lust. “I told you I would save it all,” he smouldered, winking as his armour once again materialised around his leather garments. Horns unfurled, reaching forward on either side above your head. The gold seemed brighter somehow.

“I have a mind to return to the feast, wife.” he said quietly, cocking an eyebrow as he extended his hand. You frowned. “Only temporarily,” he added, throwing a glance to the huge doors down the corridor. “We left in such haste…” You took his hand warily. “Not long, my love” you replied. It was a warning. “The feast holds nothing that will sate the hunger I have.” “I know,” Loki smirked. He traced the curve of your earlobe with his tongue, feeling you shiver with desire against him as he flicked it back and forth.

He moaned softly against the shell, your faltering grip on his cape releasing a wolfish smile. “I know.”

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#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #lokismut #loki x female reader #loki x reader smut #loki x you #loki x yn #loki x female reader smut #loki odinson #loki marvel #loki of asgard #loki gif #loki oneshot

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Dirty Work 7

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: This week is killing me.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Sunday sees your second day in your new position. As you send off your letter of resignation to the agency, you can't help the coil that winds tight in your stomach. There's no going back now.

You close out of the several templates you Googled in your efforts. It's the one thing you know how to do. Willa, the friendly librarian who checked out the PC for you, always said, if you can Google, you can figure it out. Still, you feel like there's so much you don't know that you're not sure a search engine can answer.

You close the laptop and take both your phones with you into the hallway. You have to go check out that gazebo and figure out if you need to make a call about it. Oh, and the fridge was beeping when you filled your bottle, you have to call the maintenance number that flashed up too.

That makes you even more anxious. You've never really been the sort for phone calls. You never had anyone to talk to and everything else was easier done in person. Well, you'll have to muddle through. Work isn't supposed to be fun or easy.

As you near the staircase, your flip chimes. You juggle to answer the right phone. The slim touchscreen is set only to buzz, an option not available on the clumsy burner. You answer the call as you stop on the top stair.

The woman on the other end asks for you by name. You confirm your identity as you hear familiar noises in the background. She's a nurse from the downtown hospital.

“I'm calling to confirm your father's discharge tomorrow at noon,” she says over the rustle of paper and clack of keys, “we'll need the bed so if there is any delay, another day would be added to the invoice.”

“I understand, I'll be there, erm… noon. Tomorrow,” you don't have your notebook so you key a reminder into the other phone. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Of course, miss, we would recommend you arrive earlier. We have some resources and counseling available on what you can expect getting the patient settled at home,” she continues, “nine would be ideal. I'll be able to add a note for the doctor to check in as well.”

“Oh, yes, I can do that,” you squeak, “thank you.”

“Alright then, I have all that logged. You have a good day.”

“You too,” you utter before the line dies.

Phone calls weren't too bad. You think you did okay with that one. Then again, you didn't think! You're supposed to work tomorrow. Mr. Laufeyson said you could take Wednesday off, and tomorrow is only Monday.

You close the flip phone and stare at it. Oh boy. You really don't want to spoil this. Just the mention of the coming invoice underlines your desperation. You need the money. Your dad needs it.

“Are you finished?” Mr. Laufeyson's timbre drawls from down the hall. You glance over as he stands just in the doorway of his study. You gulp.

“Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson. I didn't mean to disturb–”

“Yet you did,” he insists.

“I was only going to check–”

“Not my concern so long as it's done,” he waves you off, “an important call, I assume, to make such a racket.”

“Mr. Laufeyson, um,” you shove the phones away, one in each of your pockets. “I… could I have the day tomorrow? Instead of Wednesday. My father is getting out of the hospital and–”

“The day? What time?” He snips as he approaches with decisive steps.

“Well, I'm supposed to go at nine,” you explain, “I'll come in Wednesday still.”

“You will come in tomorrow, after all that,” he says. “You can work later then.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, but my father will need help getting settled–”

“Figure it out. You agreed to this schedule–”

“I did but–” you stop yourself as his eyes flare, “I will be here in the afternoon, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“You will be. In the appropriate attire, I expect,” he snarls and spins to strut back to his office, swinging the door shut sharply.

You waver at the hard slam. You didn't mean to anger him. You can't help that your father needs you. You thought Mr. Laufeyson would be more understanding, after all, he's the one who pointed out how much you needed the money.

🧹

Your father shoos you away as you try to help him sit. He lets go of the walker and flops back with a grunt, his oxygen tank clinking against the aid’s metal leg. He coughs and snatches around blindly on the cushion for the remote. You retrieve it from the folding table beside him and put it in his hand.

That agitates him further as he growls and jams down the button to turn on the television. You yawn and back away. You still have a full day left ahead of you, and what feels like one behind you. You spent the night doing some last minute tidying to make sure everything is read for your father.

“Smokes,” he snaps his fingers and hacks.

“Er,” you hesitate. You go to find the half-crushed pack you found with him on the floor. You knew better than to throw it out. You return to him, clutching the package nervously, “Dr. Shearer said–”

“Give it to me,” he demands.

You relent and obey. He’s been doubly miserable than before. You feel like an annoying gnat buzzing around his head as he tries to swat you away.

“I made you meals for the weak. They’re all labeled in the fridge–”

“I’m not a goddamn kid,” he scowls and takes the lighter from the folding table.

“I know, but–”

“But I’m home. You probably hate that,” he sneers, “you’d be happy if I died in that hospital.”

You’re taken aback by the accusation. You gasp and shake your head, “of course not, I’m happy you’re here. That you’re alive–”

“Painfully,” he snorts darkly, “the fuck you keep me here for?”

You take a breath and frown. Your eyes tinge and your cheeks pinch, “because you're my dad… and I love you,” you croak.

He doesn’t reply as he pulls out a cigarette and moves the tube from below his nose. You watch him, waiting. He lights the smoke and sucks on it eagerly. You drop your head and give a shrug.

“I gotta go to work,” you say, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Don’t be slamming around when you come in,” he dusts ash over the freshly vacuumed carpet, “doctor said I needa sleep.”

“I won’t,” you promise and back away.

As you leave the room, your chest plummets in dread. You think of coming home, of finding him like you did before, laying on the floor, lifeless. You sniff and swipe away the speckling of tears. More than you want him to love you, you want him to love himself. You don’t just want him to want you around, you want him to be around.

🧹

You hurry up to Mr. Laufeyson’s gate with your kit and water bottle jostling. You fumble around until you find the smartphone and bring up the digits to punch into the code box. You buzz through and shuffle inside. You set off on your usual path around the back.

You stop at the rear door and try to untangle the strap of the water bottle from your kit. Your hand lingers on the front of the ballooning shirt. You still haven’t gone to look for clothes so you did your best with what you had. One of your father’s forgotten button-ups and a pair of pants that could pass in an office. It’s ill-fitting and scratch but better than jeans.

You get inside and leave your kit in the closet. Today’s a cleaning day but you have a few things to check off the schedule first. With your water bottle bouncing on your hip, you go upstairs and scurry down to the library.

As you enter, you’re surprised to discover the space less than empty. You apologise aloud and choke on the word, ‘mister’. It isn’t the house’s single resident as you expect, no, this figure could not be more different than Mr. Laufeyson. You recognise them, from the dinner.

The blond man faces you as he stands by the window, the drapes open to add the peculiarity of the situation. Like the man, the space is golden with sunlight. You lean back on your heel as you clutch the door handle.

“Hello,” he grins as he greets you in a playful demeanour. You can’t answer. You don’t know if you should.

Is it rule one; don’t speak unless permitted; or the other rule, do not disturb my guests. You can’t figure out the riddle so you languish in perplexity.

“Aren’t you a sweet little lamb,” he muses as he steps away from the window, placing his hands on the back of the dimpled leather chair. His large hands. If you thought Mr. Laufeyson was tall, this man is even taller and twice as wide. “I remember you. The sweet maid.”

You blink. Where is Mr. Laufeyson? You can’t speak. You’re too terrified; not just of the strange man but of the one you know by name. Your employer would be unhappy to know you spoke out of turn.

“Have you seen my brother at all?” He prompts disregarding your stagnant silence. “Has he spoken of me? His brother? I'm Thor.”

You look down at your hand on the door handle.

“And what is your name?” He asks.

You don’t answer. You know it’s not right but you have no other choice. You pull the door shut and close the man in. You retreat in a half-sprint and barrel back down the stairs. You trip at the bottom and barely save yourself from stumbling to your knees.

You latch onto the banister post to keep your balance and catch your breath. You hear the door above. Oh no, would he follow you? Another door clicks and you look up to find a shadow on the other side of the frosted glass framed in the front entrance.

Mr. Laufeyson steps inside coolly, unbothered as swings the door shut and tugs on the lapel of his suit jacket. His eyes fall on you and he scuffs on his sole, tilting his head in curiosity. You didn’t realise he hadn’t even been there. You look at the ceiling with wide eyes; so how was the other man inside?

“Well, there you are,” he says matter-of-factly, “this place is sore in need of a dusting–”

Laufeyson is interrupted by a clamour of footsteps above. You let go of the banister and sidle away as his green eyes flick to the top to the staircase. You shy away and listen as the man descends in a series of thunder thumps. You turn to peek down the hall, wanting to hide in your chores.

“Stay,” Laufeyson commands. You turn back to him as he points at your feet. You stop in place and sway. He faces his visitor as he comes to the bottom stair, “brother, what is the meaning of this intrusion?”

“Can I not come see my baby brother?” The other man; the stranger; his brother, called Thor, booms.

“You may, when you warn me of it,” Laufeyson rebuffs.

“Ah, don’t be so grim,” Thor claps his shoulders and is swiftly shrugged off, “this place is always so dark. I hope you don’t mind, I opened a few windows.”

“I do mind,” Laufeyson says, “you do always presume.”

“And you are always offer such a warm welcome,” he tries to tap Laufeyson’s cheek but is batted away. The dark of the brothers backs up with a scoff. “Ah, and there she is. I was only just coming to find the little maid. She rushed off so suddenly–”

“You don’t need to bother with her,” Laufeyson dismissed with a slice of his hand through the air, “maid,” he points at you again, “back to work.”

You lean back on your heel, ready to disappear.

“Ah, don’t be so rude, brother. She is sweet. You get more bees with honey–”

“Do not tell me how to run my house,” Laufeyson growls, an edge in his voice you’ve never heard before. Dangerous and dark.

“Is she not doing you a service? A please would be appropriate–”

“You are not mother. I don’t need you to mind my manners,” Laufeyson girds and nears his brother, unflinching even as he comes up a few inches short of chest to chest, “nor do you need to worry for my staff. She does not take orders from you.”

“And I suppose that’s all she gets from you,” Thor chuckles.

You furrow your brow, stunned by their spat. You’re not quite sure what that last bit meant. You work for Mr. Laufeyson so of course he would tell you what to do. And why are they so volatile? They’re brothers. You don’t have any siblings but you always wanted one. So that you had a friend. So you weren’t alone.

“Maid, go,” Laufeyson repeats, “now.”

Your eyes widen and you nod. You quickly turn and rush down the hall to the closet. You’re shaking as you try to sort out one phone from the other and find the old list of tasks. You can hardly steady your hands to get a pair of gloves on.

You take your time in the back of the house as you hear the men’s footfalls climb the staircase. You let your nerves settle just a little. You’re alone, for now, and your mission is simple. Clean and stay unseen.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #dirty work #maid au #au #series #avengers #thor #mcu #marvel

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 3 months

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“A Damsel's Debt” A Dark!Loki x Reader Oneshot

One unexpected evening, the Prince of Asgard saves your life. Asgardian tradition dictates that a rescued damsel must pledge her body to her savior from sunset to sunset in gratitude, to be his to serve and obey in tribute for her spared life.

Pairing: Dark!Dom!Loki x F!Sub!Reader Genre: DubCon Smut Word Count: 3.8k CONTENT WARNINGS (18+ ONLY): Reader is attacked & threatened with assault, DubCon, love slave trope, shackles and chains, some knife play, Lusty Loki gets kind of creepy in this one, uneven power dynamics/classism, humiliation, degradation, being bathed, virginity kink/loss, breeding kink for a sec because apparently that's my thing since I got married , this is NOT a love story

“Blessed Norns, protect me, and remind me to never again take a job after sunset!”

The Lower Ring was foggy that night. Even the squares, still dense with night-goers, were limited in visibility. It was a dangerous night for a lone woman to be in the wrong part of Asgard, which, of course, most of the Lower Ring was. Still, you trudged along, attempting to stay within eyesight of at least three different people at a time as you passed, though that was becoming more difficult the further away from the center you went.

While the palace of the Allfather and the Royal Family stood as the shining gilded centerpiece of Asgard, the bustling city below was divided into three rings, each walled off from the other with a few guarded archways to keep the riff raff from intermingling with the merchants or clerics up above.

The riff raff like you, for example.

Granted, you weren’t so poor as to be in constant need. In fact, your business had a small but shining reputation throughout the boroughs. Several months ago, you’d even been summoned to the palace by the King himself to deliver a bag of letters to the military training camp outside the city limits. You’d had the rare opportunity to lay eyes on the beautiful Queen, and the dashing Princes, both studly and in their physical prime. It was an honor you knew you’d carry with you for a long time.

Also, it wasn’t as if your purpose out in the ominous evening was nefarious. You were a courier, a courier of anything at all (as long as no one asked about it). Once in a while, your cargo was questionable, but those packages usually came with the biggest tips. Those tips fed your four little siblings and your incapacitated widowed mother.

Tonight, however, your cargo was innocent: a bag of fruit to be delivered to the home of a sick old man. In spite of the benign purpose of your journey through the winding alleys of Lower Asgard, you felt like you were being followed. It was a feeling that stilled your heart as you quickened your pace.

Soon, your fears began to materialize in the physical plane. You began to see two large shadows moving independently following you from only meters away. Oh Norns, please don't let it be murderers!

Sometimes, you went on a mission dressed as a man. It was safer. Tonight, you chose to forgo the disguise, instead wearing your usual brown dress and black cape, hood up and over your head and pulled low over your brow. You were regretting it the more you realized that you were being targeted.

You called out, holding the bag you carried as if it were a bludgeon. “Whoever you are, leave me alone! I have no money! Only fruit for a dying old man!”

An animal’s growl answered you from a nearby alley as he and two other men began circling you like starving scavengers. “We do not want your money, maid.”

“You know what we want!” hissed another.

The three shadows closed in on you before you could attempt to dash away. You felt a violent pull on your shoulder as the messenger bag was ripped at the strap and thrown over the shoulder of the biggest of the brigands.

Screaming, you tried to duck under their legs, but again, you were slower than their reflexes. You were caught at the shoulders and lifted off of your feet by the tallest of the thieves, easily over seven feet in height and 400lbs. He could shatter you with one well-placed hit, and you knew it.

There was no one around to help, as far as you knew. You were done for.

Weeping and begging for your honor and your life to be spared, the robber holding you carried you quickly into the alley, followed by his companions, where each one took a wrist and pinned you against the wall. Each angrily stomped on your foot, wrenching another painful holler from you as bolts of lightning shot up your legs. They pulled your feet apart, splitting your legs apart by force under your skirt.

Oh no, Freyja, please save me…

You closed your eyes, and though you had no talent for magic, you tried to will yourself to safety somehow.

Instead, you willed a savior into existence.

You could feel one of the three brigands being pulled away from you. Another responded to the anonymous attack by throwing you aside by the arm, sending you hurdling to the floor, where you curled up into a ball defensively as the third pulled a knife and leaned down, pointing it at your ear so you wouldn’t move to escape.

It was too dark to make out who your hero was, only that he possessed green magic. A mage? A cleric? No, not a cleric. The monasteries were in the Upper Ring near the palace.

The lone stranger was able to use his defensive magic to stun his first attacker, throwing him against the wall. Meanwhile, you could feel the assassin’s dagger still at your head, the tip beginning to push down against your flesh.

Punches were thrown, kicks were delivered, and within minutes, three large bodies were piled unconsciously in the corner of the alleyway. You were still trembling in a ball on the ground until you saw black boots slowly saunter up next to your head. Knees bent underneath green pants.

A curious Prince’s gaze met your eyes as he examined you.

“Oh my, what have we here? A silly girl who knew no better than to walk around unescorted after nightfall?” said Loki, the junior Prince, the seidr-caster. He was the slick god known for his love of power, gold, and sex with only the most handsome bodies and faces he could collect. You were suddenly aware of his heaving muscles, stressed after the exercise of dispatching your attackers, showing off his superior strength.

“My Pr…my Prince,” you stuttered, still shaking like a snake’s tail, hot tears nearly blinding you to the point where you could barely make out Loki beyond his most angular features.

You felt a cool thumb caress your cheek. “Now, now, fretting like a babe won’t do. Let’s get you back to the palace and clean you up before we begin.”

We begin?

Loki helped you to your feet, circling you once to look for signs of incapacitation (thankfully, it felt as if there were none to you). You kept your head down and knees bent in respect for both of your castes. Technically, you weren’t even allowed to make eye contact unless so bidden.

He must have been patrolling the Lower Ring (though did Princes follow guard duty?), for he had a horse. “Can you mount on your own?” he asked, his voice almost inaudible, yet still holding so much power.

You were undeniably sore, but otherwise not injured. “Yes, my Lord.” You demonstrated by awkwardly climbing into the enormous black horse’s saddle.

“Good, yes, very good,” Loki said with pleasure, swiftly mounting in front of you to carry you back to the palace, leaving behind the fruit, the brigands, and any chance of returning home that night.

Loki brought you directly to his chambers and locked the door, only opening it briefly for a broad, muscular servant to be admitted. The servant was nowhere near as handsome as the Prince, but he was fair and well-formed. His teeth sparkled. He was a perfect specimen, making you wonder if perhaps he was a part of the palace harem.

To your shock, Loki had immediately placed you in the center of his parlor, colored in dark greens, grays, and golds, on a small stool so that you were elevated about a foot higher than Loki’s head.

“Take off your dress, girl,” he demanded.

Your eyes widened. “But…Prince? I…what? I’m sorry?” you stuttered, unsure of what to do, of what he meant. Did he mean to complete what the brigands had failed?

He chuckled as he made his way to a large reclining chair, plush and decadent. He sat back and crossed his legs at the knee, tapping his fingers impatiently on the armrest. “Are you so simple, child, as to not be familiar with the royal tradition of the Damsel’s Debt?”

You looked down, ashamed. “Not simple, my Prince. I’ve only seen the inside of the palace once.”

“Yes, and I recall that day quite well myself,” Loki responded. “How…amusing that you find yourself here only weeks later.” His tone mocked you with a hint of darkness, of something more sinister underneath his Princely skin. “I shall explain while you obey me. Undress. Now.”

He was, after all, the Prince. Denying his whim would be death. You unsnapped your cloak and let it tumble to the floor beneath you. Loki nodded his modest approval. While you continued to disrobe, he rewarded you with an explanation. “The Damsel’s Debt is an eons-old ceremony of sorts. If a Royal rescues a creature who pleases him, they are beholden to their savior’s will from sunset to sunset.”

Your jaw dropped; your skin ran cold. “I am in your debt most certainly, my Lord,” you agreed with hesitation.

“Indeed, you are,” he affirmed. “And you are all mine tonight, as my rightful reward for risking my royal neck to save your worthless one.”

The insult stung, but then again, Loki’s demeanor made it almost sound like a term of endearment. The more you spent in his presence, the darker he became. Truly, Thor was the Prince of Light, while this insatiable brother ruled the shadows and eclipses. Loki indulged in the temptations of the night quite often, and it made him a hungry, impatient being.

“So, I am your slave,” you summarized, finally untying your bodice strings and letting your dress peel off of your body, leaving you in only a corset and shift. He held up a hand as you made a maneuver to remove the stay. Standing up, Loki reached into his back pocket and extracted a knife.

“You are my slut, and I like to do this part,” he insisted, bringing the blade up to your cleavage, letting it linger as the cool tip dragged ever so lightly across your breast. “You belong to me until sunset tomorrow, to bless or burden as I please.”

Loki tucked the blade under the lacing at the bottom of the corset, and in one graceful flick, sliced the entire thing open, ripping it off your chest and throwing it aside, leaving only the see-through shift.

“If you don’t fight me, if you do as I command, I will bless you. If you refuse me, I will burden you.”

Loki stood back to take a deeper look at you. “A virgin, I see. I was hoping for as much.”

You shivered, feeling vulnerable under his intense blue gaze. “How can you tell?”

He looked at you, eyebrow raised, before letting out a hearty chortle at your ignorance. “Your posture betrays your treasure. You’re folded up like you hide a precious secret between your legs. Well, maid, it is time to pay your tax.”

He ran a finger up and down your arm. “But worry not, for as I said, if you allow me to exercise myself on you, you shall be rich for the rest of your days.”

You had no choice. Yet, were there an escape, would you take it? Riches! Not only riches, but your curiosity would remain unsatisfied. Yes, you’d never known the intimate touches of another, but it didn’t keep you from imagining the sensations for yourself. Who better than to surrender your maidenhead to the very Prince of Asgard? Would it not be a badge of honor in and of itself to say that Loki Odinson was the first to claim you from the inside?

“Alas, you need to bathe,” he said. “After all, you're still a peasant. I cannot have my sheets dirtied by a serf’s smell.”

Loki took you, as well as the handsome servant, into his bathing room, as large as the front parlor. It was illuminated in green flame candles, with a large tub built into the floor in the center. The tub was filled with steaming water and piles of soap bubbles (it was a strange sight for you, as you’d never seen a bath with such foam before).

The servant stripped as Loki quickly tore the shift off of you, and immersed himself into the bath. “Go in with him” Loki commanded you, indicating the tub with a finger. “Let him clean you.”

As you slowly waded in, Loki stood over the tub. He resembled a giant now from the skewed angle you saw him.

“Begin.”

The servant had clear experience bathing others, for his nimble, skilled hands made steadfast work. They scrubbed the dirt caked on your skin, and raked slippery, scented oils through your hair until you felt lightheaded.

“Harder, and massage her tits with pumice,” demanded the Prince. “I want her skin as soft as goose down.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The Prince’s appetite was triggered when the servant began massaging your belly with soap. “I should make you eat his cock while I impale your ass on mine, but let’s not get to the entree before we’ve even tasted the appetizer,” Loki mused, the idea itself beginning to make him hard.

To your surprise, Loki did not take your body in there. He only studied the servant as the pads of his fingers left no inch of you untouched, unwashed. The Prince’s blue eyes pierced you like the tip of his blade. He licked his lips as you squirmed every time the careless bather tickled you. The involuntary giggling made Loki shift in his seat.

After you were bathed and dried, Loki turned to give the handsome servant another order. “Get the shackles, the gold ones. They’ll flatter her coloring more than the platinum.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

He casually grabbed a soaked tendril of hair and snapped his finger, instantly drying every inch of you, leaving not a single sud to cover your private parts.

Loki circled you again. “Yes, yes…” he thought to himself, as if plotting your fate without your consent. “I can’t watch to stretch your unopened cunt so wide. Norns help me, I’ll probably rip you clear in half if I cannot control myself.”

He leaned down to your ear, flicking the lobe tantalizingly with his tongue before saying, “And your body is making it very hard…” he paused, “...for me to control myself.”

The servant returned with a large wooden box. Loki wiggled his fingers as if preparing to play a piano before gently opening the lid and extracting a large mass of tangled gold chains and cuffs. He turned to you and held them up in front of your face. “Yes, splendid. Now, girl, go bend over that table. Magnus, you may leave us.”

He indicated a small side table over by a black fainting sofa. You walked over slowly, leaning over the tiny tabletop and sticking your buttock out. You squinted, expecting a slap on either one, but instead, you felt two cool hands pull out your wrists and lay heavy metallic bracelets connected by a chain over them. He twisted his fingers, locking them.

Then, walking behind you, he gently took your hair and brushed it to the side, giving him ample space to bring the neck cuff over your head. He leaned into your back as he reached over your shoulders, firmly clasping the collar around your throat. It was tight, but lined with a fine fur inside that made them a little easier to wear.

Each side of the neck collar had a chain. Loki took one in each hand and suddenly pulled back, yanking your head straight up. You bucked like a horse as he pulled on your reigns too hard. Bringing both chains to one fist, he took his free hand, placing his fingers gently over your lips to quiet you as you began to moan.

“I was going to gag you, but that little mouth is too pretty to stifle, or to stuff with anything but my shaft. Waste not, my plaything, waste not…”

He took your chains and pulled you to a standing position, where he led you like a dog on a leash over to the bedroom. Once at the bed, he shoved you onto the mattress and made quick work of you, tying your chain to each of the headboard posts before raising your wrists over your head and tying those off as well.

“Now, my little woman,” he muttered, his voice low and dominating, “Be ready to see stars.”

Impatient and not wanting to dangle you in front of himself for too long, Loki snapped his fingers, dissolving his clothes. As you expected, when his dick sprang out for you to see, you whimpered at the size, thinking how he very well could have been truthful about splitting your belly in half.

Taking himself in hand, Loki took full control of you as he slowly pushed his cock past your entrance and up inside you. The pain was less than you expected, for you’d begun to drip with wet arousal as Loki played with you. You did gasp at the brief, sharp pinch you felt, but it quickly dulled away as your pleasure hormones intoxicated you to anything other than how it felt to be fucked.

Your breasts bounced with every pound from your master’s hips. When he noticed, Loki grabbed each one in a hand, squeezing them so hard it made tears come to your eyes.“These are so big, oh, a pity your station is so low, you could be a wet nurse for my mother’s ladies’ babes, or Thor’s…or mine…oh!”

Loki was monologuing more to himself than you as he pounded into you harder, alternating between squeezing your breasts in his palms and reaching between your lips to twist your clit between his fingers until you bucked against him. “Peasant women always have the best bodies to breed. So strong and sturdy…”

His thrusts became faster and more frantic as he approached his fall. “You were broken by a future King tonight, little Miss, now thank me.”

“Oh my Prince, thank you for--”

“--FUCKING you! Thank me for fucking some experience into you! SO that when you go back to your taverns and hay barns for a rolling, you can tell those meager boys that a god has already painted your cunt with his seed. That you were only pristine and pure for ME! That my fat cock turned you into a desperate, needy whore!”

“Prince, my Lord, tha-ah-AH!”

He rolled his hips and slid up further inside before almost pulling out entirely. Alas, he slipped back inside you with enough verve to send sparks before your eyes.

“Submit to me…submit…worship me…drink in my might and shout his name that marks you!”

You felt him pull your head up by the collar, and the act of force brought you to your edge. “MY PRINCE!”

“My name, damn you!” He grunted in quick frustration, stilling his hip as you teetered on the brink of orgasm for too, too long. “Say my name!” he ordered, near shouting.

“Aaaaaahhhhh Lokkiiiiii---”

You came as he rewarded your scream with a heavy thrust. Keeping himself in you up to the hilt, Loki felt your canal pulse and throb against his dick as your hips quivered. You allowed a long, loud, high-pitched moan to roll from your lungs and proclaim your shameful pleasure to the room. Hearing your cries coaxed Loki’s seed from him, and with four painfully strong bucks, he filled you until his cum spilled onto the sheets.

Your master rode the waves of pleasure until he was spent, after which he stood up and observed you for a moment, splayed out before him, a ruined woman.

You were grinning like a drunk, lolling your head from side to side as the sex hormones flooded your senses. Loki snickered. “Pathetic, in the most delightful way.”

He crawled into bed beside you. “Alas, I’m exhausted, and we still have daylight to look to complete the repayment of your debt to me. I could parade you naked through my father’s courtroom. I could force you under my breakfast table and have you drink from my cock while anyone can watch. I could keep you tied to my bed like a prisoner, and interrogate you with my hands and tongue until you give. I could do them all to you. Perhaps I will.”

You were surprised when he turned out the light, seriously indicating that he wished to go to sleep.

“My chains, Sire!”

Loki rolled over and admired you, still shackled and bound loosely to the bed. “Oh, what lovely tableau lies next to me! Here, you may have your wrists and arms back," he quickly used his magic to make your hand shackles dissipate. "As for the collar, it stays on. After all, I never said I would undo you.”

It was too late. You were undone.

You were still asleep at sunrise, but Loki was rudely jolted awake by a knock on his front door, beyond the parlor. Getting up and wrapping a green satin robe about his naked body, he sped to the door, careful not to wake you. You would need your energy for breakfast, after all. It was worth it to allow you another few hours of genuine, luxurious sleep in his bedsheets.

Tonight, a peasant girl slept better than all the princesses in the Realm, he thought, taking pride in his sexual prowess and ability to bring a maiden to climax.

Upon opening the door, Loki was greeted by three large, familiar brigands, all standing at attention, their hands cupped in front of them politely.

“We haven’t gotten our fee yet, Highness,” said the leader, the one who’d first approached you. “For the set up with her.” He pointed over Loki’s shoulder in the general direction of the bedroom.

"And we want extra. It hurts when you hit us!" said one of the others.

Loki growled impatiently. “Visit the treasury on the way out, and I distinctly said NEVER to come here!”

“Oh, sorry, Your Highness,” the leader said, hanging his head.

“Next time I’ll dock it from your fees, bloody imbeciles!” the Prince scowled before angrily shutting the door in their faces,

Loki walked back toward the bed, but stopped in the doorway to the bedroom, just to look at you from afar and admire how you looked, even chained (especially chained!). It was truly an annoyance that he had to sneak and lurk about with spies and disguises in the Lower Ring after setting eyes on you, the gorgeous courier from weeks ago, a forbidden trifle he could not openly sink his teeth into. Hiring thugs to make you in need of Loki’s rescue was surely an idea from the fairytale books, but it was a tried and true way of getting what he wanted.

And Prince Loki always got what he wanted.

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mochie85 · 2 months

Text

A Reunion

One Shots Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: A chance meeting with someone from your past makes you relive the worst moments of high school. Luckily, your best friend, Bucky is there to help you forget. Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes x Female reader. Word Count: Over 4k Warnings: Fluff. Flirtatious Bucky. Use of Y/N (only once) Taglist: Join here Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

“Oh god! No, no, no.” You exclaimed as quietly as you could. You turned around and hid behind your hand, covering your face. Bucky was confused- chuckling as he watched you try to make yourself smaller, unnoticeable. As if that were ever possible, he thought.

“What’s wrong? Wh-why are you hiding?” He asked as he tried to follow your gaze.

“STOP IT! SHH!” You tried to shush him. Trying to make him stop jerking his head around and calling attention to your table.

“Why are you HIDING?!” he yelled louder to annoy you. Your eyes grew big with anger, and you kicked him under the table. He laughed and pretended to be hurt as he rubbed his poor shin.

“Ok. Don’t look now, but the woman to your seven was someone I knew in high school.” You whispered to him. Bucky turned his head to see the lady in question. “I SAID DON’T LOOK!” you whisper-yelled as you kicked him once again.

“Doll, if you keep that up, I might need a metal leg to match my arm.” He said rubbing where you kicked him.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just…she brings out the worst in me. Whatever I got, she got, but better. Always better,” you said with a sneer. “When I got tickets to go see my favorite band, she got premiere passes.” Bucky smiled and shrugged. “She hated The Gorillaz! Said she never got the whole cartoon thing.” His demeanor gave you the impression he didn’t think it was that bad.

“I worked for two years to buy myself a used car. What did she get? A brand-new Lexus with daddy’s credit card. The same weekend I bought my car! She didn’t even know how to drive! Her older brother dropped her off at school every morning. Everyone had a crush on him. They all wanted to be her friend because of Bryce. And she knew it.”

“Everyone…had a crush on him?” Bucky raised his eyebrows at you. You simply narrowed your eyes back at him.

“Not the point, Barnes. When I applied to CalTech for college, she said she wasn’t interested in West Coast schools. A few months later, she showed me an acceptance letter from them! I didn’t even know she had the grades or the extracurriculars to pull it off. Turns out, there was a sizeable donation to the school’s robotics program made so generously from her family.”

“Sounds like she just really wanted to be you,” Bucky said smirking.

“Ya. So much so, that she stole my boyfriend senior year!” you spat out.

“Ouch,” Bucky hissed. “Ok, ya. That one’s a low blow.” He turned his head inconspicuously again to get a better look at your so-called friend. She was beautiful; in the sense that everything was well-manicured and put together. Not a hair out of place. She had an aura of money- evident by the sparkle of her well-placed jewelry.

Bucky turned back to you. You had a more natural beauty. You didn’t try too hard, it just shone out. He’s seen you undercover before in one of the missions where you had to be dolled up. God help him, you knocked everyone out. Even Loki took a break from his brooding to look at you. Bucky has never been the same since.

“Look. It was a long time ago. I tried to go my separate way after high school. I honestly don’t even know if she attended CalTech or not. But what I do know is that I don’t want to see her.”

“Y/N is that you?!” you heard a shrill voice come closer.

Shit.

You put on your show smile. The smile you reserve for undercover missions. “Rachel! What a lovely surprise.” She went up to you along the iron fence of the café’s patio and tried to hug you.

She kissed you on both sides of your cheek as she said, “I didn’t know you were back in New York. I thought you would’ve stayed in California.” You didn’t miss the way her eyes scanned you up and down, homing in on things to probably critique you with.

Her eyes also kept drifting back between you and Bucky. “Wait, I’ve seen you before.” She said pointing to him. “Aren’t you an Avenger?” she squealed.

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky answered, saluting casually with a smile.

“Rachel, this is James Barnes, the Winter Soldier. Bucky, this is a friend of mine from high school, Rachel,” you introduced.

“Wow,” Rachel said, shaking hands with Bucky. “Bucky, is it?”

“James. Bucky is for close friends only,” he said with a practiced smile.

“I’ve never met a superhero before,” she charmed.

“Of course, you have. Dollface over here.” Bucky said pointing to you. Your smile faltered slightly at having the attention thrown back your way.

“Oh my gosh, that’s right! I’ve seen some of your heroics on TV! Amazing work.” Rachel said to you.

“Thank you.” You said surprised. Maybe this happenstance might not be so bad after all. Maybe she has changed.

“All that training and the time outdoors have done wonders for your body and your complexion. You look so much healthier now!”

Nope! She’s still horrible!

“She’s always been lovely,” Bucky interjected, giving you a half smile.

“Oh. My. Gosh. That’s so cute!” she said in a mock baby voice. “How romantic. How long have you two been together?” Rachel asked, prying and pointing in between the both of you.

“Oh, we’re just friends.” You were quick to throw in. You didn’t want Bucky to feel uncomfortable around you and have to explain anything he didn’t need to.

Rachel just looked between you and Bucky. Her eyes delaying in his direction. “Well, now that I know you’re in town, you must come to the charity event my dad is hosting next week. I know for a fact that your boss is going to be there!”

“My boss? Fury?”

“Fury, who? Is that what he’s calling himself nowadays? Yes. He and his wife Pepper have already RSVP’d.”

“Oh, you mean Tony?” you asked.

“He’s not our boss,” Bucky corrected with slight irritation.

“Oh, well, sure. Ok, I can send him the invite and let him know to forward it to you,” she smiled sweetly at you. “And maybe a plus one…” she said, her eyes darting to Bucky quickly.

“We might be busy. You know…saving the world and all,” you quickly declined. The last thing you needed was to be stuck in an event with her and some of her uptight friends.

“Already sent!” she said ignoring you and tapping on her phone. “I hope to see you both there!” She smiled at you and gave Bucky a wink. “We’ll be friends in no time, Bucky!” she said to him as a promise. Not if I have anything to do with it, you thought.

“Ugh. If she thinks that Tony can tell us what to do and go to this party, then she’s just as self-absorbed as she was in high school. You can’t just tell people what to do because you have money!”

“You have to go!” Tony ordered.

“No!” you answered back.

“Pepper and I can’t make it. Morgan’s got a play and Peter is competing at a science fair. You guys are the only other ones invited. You have to go.”

“What do you mean, have to? I don’t have to do anything! Especially go to an event where I won’t know anybody except for my mortal enemy!” you argued.

“Mortal enemy?! Aren’t you being a tad overdramatic now? Besides, you go to my parties all the time. I don’t see you ever complaining about going.”

“That’s because I like the people I’m with and you have an open bar for all the Avengers!”

“Not to Asgardians!”

“Only because they can outdrink everyone IN THE STATE!”

“Why are you YELLING?! WHAT ARE WE EVEN FIGHTING ABOUT?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!” You and Tony squared off, looking at each other with your arms crossed.

“Look, her family are big investors in Adamantium. Her mother is in a council to help get in favor with the Wakandans to get Vibranium…” Tony tried to reason.

“Do you even need Vibranium? I’m pretty sure Steve could just call King T’Challa right now.”

“Not the point…” Tony tried again.

“Heck, Bucky over there probably has Shuri’s number!” you quarreled back, pointing to Bucky lounging on the sofa.

“The princess? No. But I do have Okoye’s. She checks in on me from time to time,” Bucky admitted, knocking on his metal arm.

“You’ve been awfully quiet this whole time, Barnes. Don’t you have anything to say about it? Don’t you want to go? You’re invited too.” Tony addressed him.

“I’ll go if dollface over here goes. And only then.” He stretched out and placed his arms behind his head, pulling his baseball cap over his eyes, signaling the end of his input into the subject.

“I’m not going, Tony. You can’t make me!” you yelled petulantly.

“Consider this an undercover mission. Okay?” Tony placated. “Go. Mingle. Charm everyone in the room. Gather some intel on your mortal enemy. Wine and dine them, then come home.” You squinted your eyes at him.

“Do it for Morgan. She would be so upset if mummy and daddy weren’t there to see her debut as apple tree #2…or was it #3? And Peter! He worked for months on his science project! Think of the sad teary eyes he would have when he sees we’re not there to support him. You don’t want Spider-Man to have sad, teary eyes, would you?!”

“Ugh, it’s not fair you’re using the munchkins as your excuse!”

“I don’t play fair. Especially when it comes to the kids, I would do anything to make the munchkins happy. You know this. Even putting you in the hands of your mortal enemy! Mwuahaha” Tony wrung his hands like a classic villain bent on world domination.

“For Morgan!” you pointed to his chest. “And Peter! Not for you. Not for all the Adamantium in the world. Understand?!”

“Completely!”

“And you’re paying for my dress!”

“Ugh, fine,” Tony said with a sigh.

“And shoes!”

“What happened to the last pair of Louboutins I got you?!”

“I had to be resourceful,” you said lifting your chin. “I used it to stab a HYDRA agent in the neck,” you smugly admitted. Tony and Bucky winced.

“Fine. Shoes too,” Tony conceded. “And you, Manchurian Candidate? Need anything?” he turned to Bucky.

“Ya. My gun is jamming even after I’ve already cleaned it. Do you think you can get me a different type of lube?” Bucky asked with a straight face. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but suppress your laughter from behind your hand.

“I’m dealing with children,” Tony mumbled under his breath as he started to leave.

“Buck!” you chuckled.

“What?! It’s for the gun! I swear!” he shrugged, proudly smiling that he made you laugh.

You sat next to him on the couch. Your whole body turned towards him as he rested his hand on your knee. “Are you really gonna go with me?” you asked timidly.

“Honestly, I thought you’d never listen to Tony and just flat-out refuse. I was counting on it.” You gasped looking him dead in the eye. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight!” he laughed as you grabbed a throw pillow and repeatedly hit him in the chest. “Ow! Dollface. Stop it!” he chuckled. “Jesus, you’re violent.”

“I could’ve used your help! If you didn’t want to go, you should’ve said something! He couldn’t make both of us go! Big help you were!” you huffed as you settled on the sofa.

“I’m sorry,” he said still chuckling. He pulled you in closer to him as you cradled his body towards yours. It was effortless. He wrapped his left arm over your shoulders and you lost count of all the times he would hold you like this, in the safety of his arms. It never made you feel cold or shiver. It made you feel safe. Protected. Like you could take on the world (and your mortal enemy) as long as he was with you. “It can’t be that bad, can it? You, me, all dressed up with a night on the town. All on Tony’s dime,” he answered looking into your eyes.

Whenever you caught his eyes, you always got lost in them. Blue- like a sunny sky on a cloudless beach. So, when Bucky painted this wonderful fantasy, you could vividly picture it. Little flutters in your stomach sprung forth at the thought of Bucky all dressed up. Looking as menacing as ever. “I hate that you’re being dragged into this. I’m sorry, Buck.”

“Why are you sorry? I’d never leave a man down. Especially you.” You suddenly felt the weight of his body pressed next to you.

“Ok. I guess I feel better about going.”

“Geez, she’s gonna kill me!” Bucky cried as he punched another agent in the face.

“Come now, soldier. What could she genuinely do?” Loki asked, trying to make Bucky feel better.

“You don’t know how resourceful she could be. What she could do with a pair of pointy heels!” Bucky answered.

“Oh, I know. I was there on that mission,” Loki chuckled. “You’re not that late. Besides…” he trailed off as he sunk his dagger into the oncoming HYDRA agent. “This was an emergency: life and death and all that. I’m sure she’ll understand,” Loki said dismissively.

“I don’t even have a suit! I forgot to get one! Oh, man! I can’t show up looking like this! I’m gonna embarrass her in front of her friends!” Bucky spread his arms out, looking down at his leather uniform splattered with ash and blood. His bright metal hand, flexing, as he brought his arm around again to deliver a final blow to the last agent standing.

Loki huffed, cleaving his dagger off some unsuspecting enemy. “Fear not, my friend, for we are finished with our chores, and I think it’s time for Cinderella to go to the ball, yes?”

“What are you saying?”

“I’ll be your proverbial godmother,” Loki spread his arms with a wide grin.

I’m gonna kill him! NO! First, I’m gonna take his metal arm and bash him over the head with it. THEN, I’m gonna kill him!

Bucky had stood you up. You spent the better part of the afternoon getting dressed and working your hair and make-up to go to this party that you didn’t even want to go to. Only to have Bucky be a no-show.

You thought back to what could’ve gone wrong. Did he forget? Was it your fault? You spent so much time dreading this party that you forgot to set any details with him. You didn’t want to think about it or give it any power over you. So, discussing the particulars with him might’ve slipped from your mind.

When you went to his room to leave together, he wasn’t there. FRIDAY said he had already left. So, you assumed that he took a separate ride to the party. Slightly crestfallen, you had Happy drop you off at the main entrance to the museum where the party was being held. Hoping you would catch him on the way in. But he wasn’t here either.

Now here you were, three canapés down with a flute of tepid Riesling, pretending to look at the portraits and paintings rather than engage with anyone else in conversation. You were seething. Your anger must’ve been evident because people avoided you all night. One look at you and they quickly turned as if you were the plague incarnate. Just like high school all over again.

“Y/N is that you?!” Rachel’s shrill voice echoed in the vast room. You closed your eyes, stilling your already fraying nerves. You turned to face her and were met, not only by her but by a crowd of people following her as well. “I hardly recognized you! You clean up so well.”

“Thank you, Rachel,” you said with sarcasm dripping out from every syllable.

“You remember my brother, Bryce,” she said gesturing to the guy standing next to her. Bryce looked handsome and dashing in his tailored black tuxedo. And he knew it too! He had the air of someone who was used to getting whatever and whomever he wanted. Evident by the not-so-subtle way he looked you up and down and leered.

“Of course. Bryce how are you?” you asked, offering your hand for a shake.

“On-shan-tay,” he said with a haughty fake accent. He took your offered hand and kissed the back of it, feeling the sticky Chapstick from his lips. God, at least you hope it was Chapstick. The whole act made you cringe. It wasn’t as smooth or as charming as Loki would’ve done it. It definitely wasn’t the comforting hug and kiss Bucky would’ve left on your cheek. He would’ve squeezed you tight till you went limp in his arms.

Thinking about Bucky made you miss him. You only hope he had a good reason as to why he stood you up tonight. You tried to hide the snide in your lips as you pried your hand back from Bryce. You wiped it behind you, surreptitiously stepping to the side, giving more space in between you.

“Are you here by yourself? I thought you would’ve brought your handsome friend with you.” Rachel said loudly enough for her crowd to hear. “Oh Y/N, you always were the lone wolf. Never one to have any serious relationships. Even in high school,” she chuckled lightly, prompting her friend group to smile and jeer behind her.

“Yes. It was difficult. Especially when someone stole my boyfriend senior year,” you criticized.

Rachel chuckled with a tight look on her face, “I can’t believe you still remember that?! That was so long ago. We were children! And besides, I did you a favor. He would’ve broken your heart anyway. Like he did mine. All he talked about was school and getting into college. He never had time for me. Ugh, men! You can’t live with them, you can’t live without them,” she laughed, signaling her flunkies behind her to follow suit.

You balled the napkin you had in your hand and clutched it tightly. If your hands are busy, they can’t punch anyone in the face, right?

Right?!

“There you are! Sorry, I’m late, dollface. I got held up at work.” Bucky’s voice cut through the nightmarish gaggle of taunts and laughs. They parted to let him through and stared as he passed every one of them, leaving them to gawk in wonder.

Including you! You were right. Bucky did clean up really well. His usual disheveled hair was styled. His black tux had satin lapels that shone under the museum spotlights. But what pulled it off even more, and what made him look so dangerously tempting, was the slight cut in his lower lip. Coupled with the faint sheen of his exposed metal hand, made him look menacing and downright sinful.

When he reached you, he pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck. He kissed your cheek as he inhaled your perfume.

“Bucky, what happened? You’re hurt!” you exclaimed wiping his lower lip with your thumb. He winced slightly when you touched his gash, holding your hand to his cheek.

“I’m sorry I was late, but there was an urgent mission I had to take care of. I would’ve gotten word to you sooner, but it was all very hush-hush. You know how these things are,” he apologized, taking the palm of your hand and kissing it.

You looked him over after hearing the news, making sure he wasn’t injured. He should be at home resting. Not here, pretending to have a good time so you could save face for a bunch of nobodies from high school.

“Don’t fuss over me, sweetheart. I’m fine, really!” he insisted.

“But-”

“Don’t worry about me…let me look at you!” he said nudging you gently from his embrace. He twirled you around making you smile at his playfulness. “Wow! Gorgeous, dollface! You look good!” his smirk ignited something inside you. A momentary predacious look from his eyes had you feeling shy and flustered. “You look real good!” he said subconsciously licking his lips.

“One question though,” Bucky said, interrupting your sinful thoughts about what he could do with that tongue. “Whose this guy?!” he asked, pointing his thumb to Bryce. Bucky’s tone was serious and possessive. He hadn’t even looked at anyone else since you locked eyes with him. And frankly, you had forgotten anyone else was in the room.

You looked over to Rachel and Bryce, along with her adoring minions, who were now curious as they watched you and Bucky have your own intimate reunion.

“Bucky! You remember my classmate Rachel from the cafe,” you said pointing in her direction. “This is her brother, Bryce.”

“Bucky! It’s so nice to see you again!” Rachel sweetly spoke as she touched his shoulder and let her fingers trail down his arm. Bucky stopped her hand and shook it in greeting.

“It’s James,” he corrected. “Mr. Barnes, if you’re dollface over here,” he winked at you. “Nice to meet you Bryan, but if you will excuse us, I need to make up for my absence by giving this beautiful woman here all my attention.”

“It’s Bryce!” he shouted back, but by then Bucky had gotten you halfway across the floor as you looked back and gave both Rachel and Bryce an exaggerated apology. Bucky twirled you once again and held you close to his chest. Leaving you giggling as you wrapped both your arms around his neck.

“You made it!” you breathed a sigh of relief, feeling that familiar safety and security of being in his arms. “I thought you- never mind. I guess it doesn’t matter now that you’re here.” You looked down straightening his bow tie and fixing his lapels. Embarrassed about what you were about to confess.

“You thought I’d forgotten about you? You of all people?” He hooked your chin as he led your eyes to look at him. “Never!” The promise in his voice never wavered. And the teasing in his eyes made you lose your inhibitions.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” you whispered as you leaned in and kissed his soft lips. He stood there frozen, wide-eyed, and watching, as you kissed him for the very first time.

This kiss would change everything between you. He knew that, but did you? He’s imagined kissing you like this for so long. To finally make you his. But he never acted on it, afraid that you would reject his advances. He froze, wondering what this could mean for your relationship. You felt him stiffen. He stood still, letting you kiss him and not reciprocate any affection back.

OMG, I made a huge mistake. “I’m sorry, Buck. I didn’t-” You pulled away as tears welled at the bottom of your eyes. You had taken a chance and it didn’t pay off. He didn’t feel the same way. You were blindsided by his whole entrance. His whole presence, that you mistook it for interest. The memories of high school came full circle with the feelings of rejection that sprung forth, heating your body in embarrassment.

He pulled you back into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around you tighter, held you just a bit closer, and kissed you back with the hunger and ferocity you had only fantasized about late at night.

He opened his mouth to moan out your name and you didn’t care who was watching at this point. You were finally kissing Bucky, and just like everything else about him, it was better than you had ever imagined.

He winced slightly at the tug of your mouth, and you quickly stopped to see if he was ok- remembering his cut lip.

“No, do it again. I liked it,” he blushed.

“Well, well, well. I learn something new about you every day, Mr. Barnes.”

“Keep calling me ‘Mr. Barnes’ and you’ll learn a whole new side of me,” he teased.

A/N: Inspired by a chance meeting I had with my mortal enemy. This has been sitting on my editing notes for FOREVER. And if I don't publish it now, I fear that I will just keep adding onto the story.

All Works Taglist🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @loopsisloops @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish

#bucky appreciation post #james bucky barnes #bucky #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #winter soldier #the winter soldier #marvel fanfic #bucky fluff #james buchanan barnes

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ynyaan · 4 months

Text

𝘾𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 ⚔ | 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ࣪𖤐

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ♕

𝙇𝙤𝙠𝙞 𝙭 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩-𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 | 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Summary: Loki didn’t lack in giving you anything. He was attentive to your needs and is a surprisingly good lover. Alas, his endless gifts and spoilings leave you feeling guilty for receiving so much. You have never asked for anything specifically until one day; you had an ache to take something of his. “I must not be doing my job right if my love still wants something?”

.ᐟ 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙤𝙣

...

Loki has never failed to give you anything. Actually, most of his gifts are of his own accord. From silver jewelry to gems of every color, he gave whenever he could. You have always been grateful for it, but constantly receiving gifts knowing you can never repay them, leaves a bubbling guilt inside your stomach.

“Loveee!” A cheerful voice enters the living room. You were sat on the kitchen counter eating fruits while the large television played a nostalgic show.

“Loki, you’re back!” You grin. A smile you will forever greet him with everytime he comes back unscathed.

“Of course. I have a gift to present my divine goddess.” Loki motioned to his hand. A pink paper bag he had held tightly was now waving at your face. An excited ‘Oh’ formed at your lips as you grab whatever is inside. A soft texture arrives at your touch as you take it out. It was a fluffy textured box usually containing rings.

“Loki…” You began, “I told you, I dont need THIS many gifts! You’ve given more than enough!” You try to protest, but a hand to your face stopped your antics.

“Darling, I will spoil you as I please.”

“Yes but why must all of them be top-grade? Treasures that I cannot repay!” You pouted, your eyebrows pressed together.

Loki grabbed your cheek and caressed it softly. “I will only ever give you gifts worth your time, sweetheart.” Before you could exchange another sentence of no’s, the phone ringing suddenly filled the room with a repetitive chime.

Loki released his hold on you and walked further away to pick up his phone. He was speaking but it was inaudible. His facial expression created tension among his bones. Instead of wondering what they were discussing about, you instead took in Loki’s length and the extent of his obsession with coats. His pants that were worn out from battle and a dagger…

A dagger that shone gold and green, attached to his boots. The pocket being sheer enough to see through the detail of the weapon. It was by far, one of the most gorgeous daggers you’ve seen Loki owned. It’s silver hilt that had ‘LOKI’ engraved in little letters.

“(y/n)?” Your head snaps back to Loki walking to you.

“So? What do you think of the gift?” He grins, all the stress from his face faded away without a trace.

You nod, “its beautiful, of course. I love it. Thank you Loki.”

Days flew by, yet the ache in your heart would not stop bubbling. Your mind had an itch you could not satisfy, a picture popping up in your mind the moment your eyes fluttered close.

You wanted that dagger. To use something of Loki’s, something flashy yet something soft to your touch. Unfortunately, you would rather go mute than ever ask anything from him. He has simply given you way too much, things and memories you simply cannot repay.

“Somethings wrong.”

His voice snapped your train of thought. The fruits you've been cutting have taken you atleast 20 minutes already. You hum in response before feeling his arms wrap around your waist behind you. “Tell me what it is that troubles you, my sweet.”

You bit your lip. Why on earth do you even wish for that stupid dagger? Your vanity table that had trinkets and jewelry in every box and corner, your closet filled with every type of clothing all painted in your favorite colors. Why do you want something of his? Something you barely would use anyway!

“I-,” you shut your eyes tight. Unable to keep the frustration in.

“Go ahead.” Loki snuggles his face onto the crook of your neck. He tightens his grip, encouraging you to go on.

“I- um, whew, I want…I mean, Ive been wanting something.” You sigh in relief, glad you could finish your sentence.

Loki releases his hold on you, turns you so that you are met with his face. His eyebrows is raised and a grin is formed by his lips. He chuckles lightly, “You want something…” he buries himself on your shoulder. This might just be the first time you actually ask for something specific from the God of Mischief.

“I must not be doing my job right if my love still wants something?” He teased, yet your feelings wavered. How could he think he’s not doing his ‘job’ right when he’s actually given way too much?

A louder chuckle escapes his lips as you feel him grin against you. “I had simply meant that I hoped to give you the world.” He whispers softly, enough for you to hear.

He faces you now, grabbing you on both your shoulders. “Tell me, my sweet, sweet, lover.” He puts his point finger under your chin and tilts it slightly higher. “What is it that you wish for?”

You lowered your head realizing how ridiculous your next words will sound, wanting such a simple thing yet asking for it sheepishly. “…dagger.”

Loki’s eyes lit up. He raises his hand and suddenly something shone brightly from it, he had summoned the exact dagger you wanted.

“Im glad it caught your eye. Its a special design you see, something unique from all the others.” He grabs your hand and places the dagger inside of it just before kissing your fingers.

“Remember, everything I have is yours and soon enough, I will have, the nine realms.” You nod as you clutched his new gift.

“Thank you, it truly is magnificent.”

𝙒𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙥𝙖𝙙: Star (@_ynyaan) ───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 <𝟥

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liminalpebble · 6 months

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Could I have a letter from any Loki of your choosing telling me that I'm NOT a crappy actor and I can freaking get this show up without losing my mind? haha Sorry its a bit specific

My dear fellow thespian,

I apologize for my late reply, and I do hope my letter still finds you well. You know me, darling, always fashionably late.

I'm sure you are well aware that the God of Mischief knows a good thing or two about theatrics, illusions, and drama. So I assure you, my sweet and skilled mortal, you are spectacular. You grace each scene as no one else could. Your work is truly splendid, and your skills are exquisite.

But of course, nervousness and self-doubt are only natural. *Bends down to whisper in your ear, with his hands on your shoulder* Yes, even for me, but that's a secret between us, my love...a vulnerability for you alone to know.

If you still feel strained and anxious, it would be my pleasure to rehearse with you...anything to ease your nerves and remind you of what a divine talent you are. It would especially please me if you chose a particularly romantic scene for us. I would relish the opportunity to...collaborate. I'm sure our onstage chemistry would be absolutely incandescent (and undoubtedly, our offstage chemistry will be equally irresistible).

I'll be there in my black suit, throwing roses at your feet on opening night.

All my love,

Loki

@ijuststareatstuffhereok89

#loki fanfic #lovely mutuals #lovely fanfic friends #sas #lovely asks #love letters from loki

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deanbrainrotwritings · 5 months

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— THE LOVE LETTER COLLECTION : PART ONE

SUMMARY : being a dreamwalker, seeing every universe, having a hot boyfriend. there’s a million perks to that. this is the sad version.

PAIRING : dean winchester x dreamwalker!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : rowena macleod, sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, fluff, almost-smut, talk about depression, low self esteem, thoughts about past prostitution

WORD COUNT : 11k

A/N : title from a jamie's elsewhere song. this fills the time travel square on my @jacklesversebingo card. inspired by loki season two, please don’t change by Jungkook, and the spider-verse movie. no spoilers. This is written from Dean's perspective and in first person (it was fun but tough) X

I couldn’t sleep tonight.

It’s normal.

She’s asleep next to me, breathing slow and quietly. Her chest rises subtly with each breath. Her lips are parted, just slightly.

Her soft hair is splayed over the pillow like the rays of a sun and she’s facing me. One of her hands rests on her stomach and the other is bent upwards beside her, her hand resting in a loose fist by her neck.

Her steel necklace rests haphazardly over her neck. The chain is thin and fragile. Glimmering in the faint light coming through the opaque hotel curtains. A tiny and thin, rectangular centrepiece is lined with miniature gems and suddenly stops leaving a centimetre free of plain steel, and it rests in the dip of her collarbone.

She’s quiet tonight. Laying still, unmoving. I smile at her, resist the urge to touch her smooth skin or brush her hair away from her shoulders. She wakes up easily, a light sleeper, the cutest one. I’m surprised my staring doesn’t wake her.

Memories move in and try to overcast my mind. At least she takes me away from the darkness that threatens to consume me. Right now, I’m focused on her and the way she breathes.

I try reminding myself of what I have right now. Her. Sam. Cas. Jack. That’s all that matters. I won’t even remember why the feelings overflooded my chest, poisoning my mind, breaking me down until I’m down. In the morning, when the sun shines and pours through the window, I realise it isn’t so bad. When her soft voice flows into my ears, when the flowery aroma of her intoxicates me, when her warm touch comforts me, when the sweet taste of her lips makes me forget what I had been worried about at night.

It’s always the same. Like her, I learned to live with the pain.

She moans softly beside me. Not a sexy moan. It sounds irritated at something. I turn fully onto my side to face her, panic makes my stomach sink. I frown and my train of thought is lost as I wait to see if she’s having a nightmare or not.

She mumbles something I can’t understand, but she doesn’t seem to be in distress. She turns over onto her side, facing me fully. Strands of her hair fall gracefully over her face. I move back slightly but her arm lands in my waist, trapping me in place by entwining her legs with mine. I squirm when her elbow pokes my ribs and I reach out at last, caressing her cheek. With a few whispers of her name and some gentle prodding, she shuts up and her eyes flutter open.

She groans gently and whispers my name, adorably disoriented. I chuckle and lean forward to kiss her forehead before she could even fully wake up. She hums anyway, satisfied and scoots closer to me. Her soft legs slide against mine again; it makes me warm.

She’s moving up on the bed, too, and slides one of her arms under my neck to pull me closer. I willingly go and I grin as soon as my face is pressed against the top of her breasts. I breathe her in and close my eyes. Her skin smells amazing and she gently starts scratching my scalp with her nails. I moan quietly when a shiver runs up my spine and I keep her in place with one arm wrapped around her waist from beneath her.

I move my other hand up to her jaw to tip her head back to kiss her neck. I can hear her breath hitch and she starts to squirm, her thighs become tense and they start to move against my own. When I thread my fingers through her hair and tug weakly, she rolls her hips against mine.

She’s breathing heavier already. I love how she reacts to me.

Heat blooms in my stomach, my cock twitches, and my insides clench instantly when she wraps her arm around my shoulder and then pulls my own hair. I grunt softly against her neck, but she’s pulling away. Her nose bumps against mine and she finds my lips with her own, soft and warm.

I hold her tighter, lowering my hand to squeeze her ass. She smiles against my mouth and I do, too, nibbling on her bottom lip. I move her hair away from her face before sliding my hand down her shoulder, teasingly bringing the strap of her bralette down. She arches her chest into me and I lean down to latch onto her nipple once I get the soft material beneath her chest.

“What were you dreaming about?” I ask curiously. My warm breath hits her wet nipple and she shudders. I slid my hand out from beneath her to play with the hem of her underwear. Slowly, I let my hand sneak into the front.

“Uh,” she trails off distractedly, she attempts to hold me in place against her breasts. I didn’t have any plans on doing anything besides that, but I pulled away on purpose to watch her open her eyes and complain about my inactivity. “Hey, why’d you stop?”

I smirk at her and I pull my hand out of her underwear to hug her, pressing a kiss against her shoulder. I roll over on top of her, holding her in place with my hips against hers. “I wanna know what you dreamt of. You were moaning and movin’ around,” I explained with a frisky grin, trying to make her think that I’m assuming it was a wet dream.

She frowns instead and asks, “did I wake you?” She cups my cheeks and my face softens as I look down at her. I shake my head and I drop kisses along her face until I hear her laugh quietly. “You should’ve woken me if you couldn’t sleep,” she murmured.

I shake my head again and she rolls her eyes, pushing me away to turn her back to me. I follow her immediately to kiss her cheek, to make her not be irritated at me. She’s smiling before I even land a kiss to her face and I grab a handful of her ass instead, squeezing in retaliation.

“I was just gonna grab my phone,” she lies and laughs. She starts to wiggle around and almost fails to laugh quietly, trying to get me off her when I tickle her neck with kisses. I let her go eventually and she immediately reaches for her phone on the nightstand. Her screen turns on when she tilts her phone towards herself, a photo of me naked flashes my face and I get flustered, taking the phone from her after she whined, “it’s gonna be four?”

I stare at the photo in surprise. The photo was cut off at the bottom, barely showing my hip bones, hiding what she had been doing to me. I remember that day, it was our anniversary. We spent about two days together. She was giving me a handjob and she convinced me to let her take a couple of pictures. Who am I to deny her that?

Let’s just say there are more photos and a video.

“Hey! Give it back,” she pouted, wrapping her small hand around my wrist. I ignore her, and move away from her sneaky hands as I blush when my eyes trail back up to my face on the photo. I look like I’m about to orgasm.

“That’s a photo of me,” I stated bluntly. I unlocked her phone curiously and lo and behold, it’s a picture of me fucking her. My stomach clenches, I’m thrilled, even my cock starts to harden at the sight of me standing on my knees, my hand is splayed over her pelvis and my thumb is on her clit.

“Oh, I thought it was a photo of Henry Cavill,” she answers flatly. I feel my heartbeat rise and I bite my lip, I focus on her more than on myself, even if most of what I can see is me. I couldn’t decide whether to look at her in front of me or to keep staring at the angle she took the photo from.

“Shut up,” I mumble, fascinated by the high quality of her photo. I had used a pillow to angle her hips upwards. I was holding her leg up by her ankle and she had her other leg thrown over my hip… the sounds she made that day, they were unforgettable.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” She asks suddenly, snapping me out of my horny daze. I look over at her and watch her bite her lip shyly. “I can change it, it was a joke… mostly.. at first, because now I enjoy looking at it. It’s not very convenient when I’m around other people though…” she rambled thoughtfully.

I don’t say anything and I set her phone down on the pillow. I pry her legs open with my hand and I slip my fingers inside her underwear, teasing her wet labia, tracing her entrance, and then I lift my wet fingers up to ghost them tortuously over her swollen clit.

“You like looking at it?” I smirk down at her. She bites her lip harder, staring up at me in attempts to look innocent as she nods at me. Her eyes shut momentarily and she starts to wiggle her hips impatiently. “What happened to you? You were so shy when we started dating,” I tease, making a ‘v’ with my fingers. I slide my hand down to cup her pussy, her clit brushes against the sides of my fingers and she gasps softly.

“You made me a slut. A horny one,” she whines playfully.

“You’re not a slut,” I laugh, brushing my lips against her cheek.

“Have you seen how I dress now? I feel so hot when I’m with you,” she admitted breathily. I blush at her words and my stomach flutters.

“Wearing sexy clothes don’t make you a slut, angel,” I reassure her and push my middle finger into her. She feels warm. I can feel the texture of the inside of her against my fingers and it turns me on. She’s wet and I love the feel of it every time I pull my finger out of her. “I’m not gonna stop you from doing what you wanna do. Or tell you how to dress. Or call you a slut when you wear… sexy clothes to seduce me. Besides, you look hot as hell to me all the time. And if I make you feel hot enough to wear somethin’ that you usually wouldn’t wear, I think I’m doin’ a pretty damn good job at being your boyfriend.” She’s speechless, either from the way I curl my finger inside her or from the words I just spoke to her. “You are seriously horny though. What’s up with that? You act like I don’t fuck you enough.” I say that and I add another finger inside her.

I stare as her head rolls to the side. She bites her lip, arches her back, and her legs spread open some more. She’s so sexy without even trying.

“I dunno about that one,” she murmured, “I think you’re so fuckable when you do stuff for me like you’ve read my mind, when you say stuff like what you just said right now.. when you’re.. you,” I smirk and lean in for a quick kiss. “I want to feel you everywhere. All over me. All the time. I’ve never wanted for someone as badly as I want for you. I’ve never needed someone as badly as I need you. You make me feel. I want to… I dunno… match you when it comes to sex... You’re.. everything.”

There’s something about the way she says it that drives me crazy. I somehow understand everything she’s trying to say and I pull my fingers out of her.

I need her.

“Fuck,” I whisper, pushing her underwear to the side. I move up her body, but Sam starts to groan beside us. I whine quietly and drop my forehead on her shoulder, releasing her underwear.

I feel her deflate underneath me, too. She apologetically plays with my hair and kisses the top of my head. I melt into her, trying to steady my heart, cool down my body, and make my dick soft at the same time.

“Have you ever had a dream where you hide something and you wake up thinking: ‘what if it’s actually there?’ And you know it’s dumb but you just have a feeling it’s not, and then you’re disappointed because it’s not there when you look?” Her attempt to distract me works. I lift my head and I furrow my brows at her very specific question, but she’s looking at me earnestly so I resist the urge to laugh.

“I don’t think so, no,” I answered her question thoughtfully. After a few moments, as I continue to think about her question, I move off her and lean on my elbow while gazing down at her. “Why? Is there somethin’ you’re tryna tell me in a cryptic way?” I smirk and she pouts.

“I don’t do that,” she replies with uncertainty. I can tell she’s going over any possible situation where she’s been cryptic without even noticing.

“Uh, you do it sometimes,” I say with a laugh. She frowns and then ignores me. It makes me want to kiss her.

“Well, I’m trying to tell you my dream,” she explains. I’m about to tell her to continue, but Sam’s tossing and turning stops, and he speaks to us sleepily.

“You guys already awake?” Sam yawns, I look over my shoulder and I watch him stretch.

“Yeah,” I answer, then I lay back down on my back.

“Unfortunately,” she answers with a sigh.

She starts to get out of bed and I frown. I move over closer and wrap my arm around her waist, pressing kissing along her back. She chuckles and doesn't move away from when she bends down. I can hear her rifling through her duffle bag and I let her go when I feel her stop. I take her spot, lay on my stomach and bury my face in her pillow to inhale the smell of honey and jasmine from her shampoo.

I hear her jump slightly and I slide my arms under the pillow, lifting my head to watch her pull her jeans up. I smile dreamily as I watch her slide them over her ass. When she bends over, I’m a hundred percent sure she’s putting on a show for me. She rolls the bottom of her jeans upwards into a cuff so they don’t drag across the floor.

“Need to use the bathroom, Sam?” She asks him innocently, but she’s looking at me with mischief in her eyes. I smile and hide my face in the pillow so I don’t laugh or moan.

“I’ll use it after you, go ahead,” he tells her, ever the gentleman. She says a little ‘mmkay’ and I can hear her step closer to me. I peek at her and watch her lift the sheets over my body. She kisses the nape of my neck before she leaves and I resist the urge to act like a girl when she does it.

“Was she having a nightmare again?” Sam asks, his voice is laced with concern. I turn to look at him, the sun starts to light up the room, and I watch as he puts his shoes on. “That one with the axe killer was terrifying. She couldn’t sleep for days after it,” Sam reminisces with a grimace on his face.

“She didn’t have a nightmare,” I reassure Sam. I feel relief, the same as the sigh Sam releases when I respond, and I sit up.

Sam opens his laptop and his brows furrow as he stares at the screen. But his question takes me back to that night. I think about it like it just happened. I didn’t know what to do, neither did Sam, at first, because as soon as I’d touched her thrashing body, she’d fallen off the bed. She had a bruise on her cheekbone afterwards to show for it.

She never woke up when it happened, not until I picked her up off the floor. But even when she opened her eyes and saw me, the monster pulled her back into her dream and continued to chase her.

I remember Sam trying to help me as she tried to wiggle out of my grip, her dream bleeding into reality. She was strong for such a small woman and she slipped repeatedly from my grip and into Sam’s. We held her down on the bed instead and waited for her to wake up on her own.

I’d never been so afraid for her before. I’d never had my heart broken by her like that night when she immediately broke down crying upon waking up fully, holding onto me tighter than she’d ever held me before.

I cleaned the cuts on her legs and her back, I tended to the rope burn on her wrists. She was covered in bruises. I was grateful that she didn’t have anything broken or a deadly wound. But her mind was broken. It is broken. She was depressed for a few days after it had happened. I couldn’t help her in any way, but I was there for her the entire time.

It happens sometimes, more back then than it does now. She’d dream about something and it would break her. She falls apart and I help build her up—like she’s done for me a million times before. The dreams, nightmares, take a toll on her because she can’t do much in terms of helping out.

I feel like she’s a little more numb to it now. Like the depression got old. Like it’s just the same old emotions that have tried to drown her before. I’ve seen it with admiration and a bit of humour. The spite she feels when they come up after years of feeling controlled by it. I’ve seen her at her lowest and I’ve seen how resilient she can be—even on her own.

She tells me now when she doesn’t feel right, but she sounds more irritated by it than actually brought down. Sometimes she repeats or mocks whatever dark thought crosses her mind out loud and it’s half-funny. I still reassure her that it’s not true, just in case she’s pretending to be strong, just in case they’re sounding too true to be a lie.

If it’s really bad, I can tell because she goes mute. I let her cry once she opens up to me. I hold her and I let her feel it until it passes. There’s no point in trying to be positive sometimes or pushing down her feelings when they’re there for a reason. She lets it out and then she feels embarrassed because she wonders how she could think it was true. It’s a cycle, one I’m used to feeling myself just as much as she is.

It’s harder for me than it is for her to open up. I’m not used to it. God knows I want to tell her, but the words turn to a knot in my throat and my tongue gets heavy as they rest there. I’m afraid I’ll burden her, even when I try to reason with myself that I’ve never felt like she was a burden for having feelings, it doesn’t help. Because she’s herself and I am me. Still, I think she’s learned to understand me, even in silence.

I love her.

She steps out of the bathroom with a cute flowery top and a green cardigan after about six minutes and I smile at her. She gleefully twirls her way to me with a playful, “hey, Sammy. Morning, handsome,” and quickly kicks off the slippers she’s wearing to jump on the bed. Sam laughs quietly and goes into the bathroom now that she’s done.

I immediately bring her in for a kiss. My fingers tangle in her hair and I moan when her tongue prods at my lips. I can taste her minty breath when her soft tongue slides into my mouth. My hands fall to her waist; hers rise to my face. She kisses me passionately, her fingers thread through my hair and she holds me in place. She starts sucking my tongue into her mouth and I don’t even know what to call the sound that came out of me. I grab onto her tightly, his head feels fuzzy, my body is warm and tingly everywhere as she devours me. When her tongue runs along my top teeth, I have to resist the urge to bite her tongue but she begins to trace the roof of my mouth and pushes my mouth closer to hers with her hand on my jaw.

When she pulls away, she’s breathless. Like me. A string of saliva breaks between our mouths when she gets off me and I wish we could linger on it, but I’m too dazed to bring her back. I know my hair is messy and I lick my mouth to taste her again. My eyes are fixed to her movements, I know I look dumb as I continue to stare at her while she digs through her duffle bag.

Her hips sway when she walks across the room and she bends over the table slightly to open the curtain. She has a small pink bag, and takes out a green hand mirror to use as she gets ready. I inhale and try to compose myself while she fixes her eyebrows.

“Can we talk about your dream so I’m not horny all day?” I asked, getting out of bed to get ready, too. She laughs and wiggles her brows experimentally. She seems satisfied and then takes out a lash curler.

“Okay, yeah,” she agrees with a smile, but quickly glares at the lash curler. She inhales sharply before nervously bringing the metal thing to her eye. I can tell she’s freaking out with its proximity, and I grin when she has to take a deep breath after pulling it away before trying again.

I take my jeans out of my own duffle bag and start to put them on while we talk, and I ask, “so you dreamed you hid something and you think it’s real this time?” She curls her lashes at last, three times for a few seconds and then she moves on to the other eye. She bats her lashes at the mirror and then she stares down at her bag thoughtfully.

“Yeah, it’s in your duffle bag, but I didn’t put it there. I watched someone else do it and they told me to find it when I wake up,” she explains with a frown, then she frowns harder. I stare at the bag and open it up but I don’t see anything strange. “I’m gonna be mad, too, because I’ve hidden awesome stuff that I want to have—when I dream sometimes, and I’ve never found them.” I chuckle quietly and shake my head, but I start rifling through it to find whatever she could be talking about.

“Why is it important that you find it?” I ask curiously and dump everything inside onto the bed. She takes out a pink bottle and gets the wand out to place a few wet dots of pink on her lips. She presses them together to evenly spread the colour and then puts two smaller dots on her cheekbones.

“I don’t know yet,” she trails off and closes the tint. She then evenly rubs the hue over her cheeks. “He told me that once I get it, he can tell me,” she puts the small pink bag away in the duffle bag again and gets on the bed on her knees to look for it with me.

She carefully grabs my shirts, unfolds them and folds them perfectly again before putting them inside my duffle. She does it over and over with my help, until I grab a flannel and out falls a white rock shaped like a tiny white planet.

“Aha!” She exclaims, just as Sam steps out of the bathroom, confused.

“What’s that?” Sam asks, walking over to us to analyse what she grabs excitedly from the bed.

“It’s a rock,” she grins happily. She must forget that Sam doesn’t know what’s so important about it or why I have it in my stuff, so I explain it all to him as I finish folding the rest of my clothes.

“Is that like an infinity stone or something?” I ask when Sam starts inspecting the white rock. She breaks, a soft laugh lights up her previously serious face, and she’s looking at me with the brightest eyes. Sam, on the other hand, ignores me.

“I can do some research when we get to the bunker,” Sam offers, handing her the rock, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. Dream-Dean told me to take it to Rowena and I have to tell her that she has to use it on me,” she explains to us. I narrow my eyes at her when she says that to Sam. She was completely vague about the person she dreamt of at first, but now she’s saying I gave it to her in a dream? Or at least some other version of me did.

“And what, you trust this… uh,” I laugh bitterly, jealousy makes my face hot. “Dream-Dean? Seriously? He could be using my body to manipulate you.” She opens her mouth and then she closes it. She’s watching me. I know she’s trying to find a way to explain without sounding like I’m right.

“He was in my dreams,” she explained slowly, “and he didn’t look like you do now. He was more of a uh, hot, aged up version of you.” That did not make me feel any better, but I couldn’t deny that it was funny and flattering. I don’t feel as hot anymore, not since I’ve aged, but knowing she thinks otherwise makes me flush.

“Hot? Am I not fucking hot right now?” I ask playfully, staring straight at her. She gets flustered and she starts to stutter as she begins to deny what I’m saying.

“No.. you are hot- Shut up,” she grumbles. Her face is red and I smirk at her.

“Guys, please,” Sam interrupted, “let’s focus.”

“Yeah, stop flirting, babe, we need to focus,” I shake my head with a fake frown. I turn to Sam and resist a smile, even though he lets out an irritated sigh at the two of us. I can feel her behind me, I feel a tingle of thrill run up my spine, but steady my voice when I ask, “how does something from your dream appear in our world?”

Sam must think it’s a good question because he turns to look at her with a curious face. I feel her hand land at the small of my back, I can feel her warmth spread over my body, and then it moves away, leaving me cold, but I don’t expect the way she swats my ass.

“Uh… quantum physics?” She says, unsure. That distracts Sam from the way I jump, he acknowledges it, but ignores me to focus on her words. My ass stings a little, but honestly, even I’m intrigued by her words. “Pfft, I don’t know, I don’t remember anything from my physics degrees,” she snorted sarcastically.

“My general knowledge of that is the Ant-Man stuff,” I tell her with a serious face. She smiles affectionately, amusement glitters in her eyes, and she forces herself to look away when Sam comes up with a plan.

“I can get another hunter to take over the case,” Sam suggests, “Rowena’s a call away, we can head back to the Bunker while she meets us there.”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

“Is there anything special about this rock?” Sam askes Rowena, looking across the table as the redheaded witch uses her finger to read a few lines from the giant book. She picks up the rock, then tilts her head and her curls follow the movement.

“Well, it’s just Scolecite,” Rowena started, “but I can feel something very powerful inside.” Rowena takes the stone and brushes her thumb over the orb, then she carefully gazes past me. “Where did you say you got this from?”

I look behind me, and she has the cutest, wide-eyed look on her face when she looks up from the sandwich she’s eating. I bite my lip and smile at her, then I turn back to Rowena. “A… uh… alternative universe version of me gave it to her. Why?”

“It feels different,” Rowena pauses to think. “Everything in our world has a certain.. signature. This feels like it doesn’t belong to our world. It makes more sense to me now that I know it’s from another universe.” I nod slowly, trying to make something of that information. I wipe a hand down my mouth and I lean back, giving my attention to my favourite person in the whole world.

She passes the rest of her sandwich to me quietly and I eat it. It somehow tastes better than the one I made for myself, and I made both of them. She gazes at me as I eat, but she asks Rowena, “you can use it on me, though, yeah? It won’t be a problem?” We look away at the same time, Rowena looks amused and then she recollects herself.

“I can,” she confirms, then cautiously asks, “are you sure you want that?” It makes me worried suddenly. Was I really gonna let my girlfriend use some magical, dimensional rock we know nothing about just because some older version of me told her to?

“Should we not?” I ask earnestly.

“I’ve never done anything like… this,” Rowena admits, pushing the book slightly towards me, “it’s possible everything will go right, but it will be extremely painful. This rock is a vessel. It’s holding something massive and powerful inside, and I’ll be putting that inside her.” It makes me more nervous when she explains it like that. Is that why she didn’t want us to do research before, because she knew there were risks? I abandon the sandwich as it begins to make me feel sick, but I’m interrupted from asking more questions.

“Dean, it’s fine. All of you, please,” she said exasperatedly. “I’m going to do this and I’m not changing my mind. I’m sure and I can handle anything that happens, okay? And if I can’t, we can stop, but I’m trying again.” She was looking straight at me, but my eyes were glued to the sandwich that was making my stomach upset.

“I don’t get why you suddenly trust the guy,” I say quietly.

“It’s you, Dean, if I’m going to trust anyone, of course, it’s going to be you,” she replied steadfastly.

“Okay, but it’s not me.” I look at her and plead that she doesn’t go through with it.

“I know that you’re afraid, Dean, and you’re usually right about stuff like that, but I’m sure of this, okay?” She puts her hand behind my neck reassuringly. Her hand is cold and it makes me shiver, I shake my head.

“You’ve made up your mind, darlin’, that’s fine with me,” Rowena told her. I get up and I stare at everyone at the table in disbelief, but the only ones who look at me are Rowena who I know is curious about what will happen and my girlfriend who’s stubbornly made up her mind, but Sam doesn’t look at me, and I know he agrees with them.

“Seriously? We’re gonna do this knowing jack shit about this goddamn rock and what it’s gonna do to you when you use it?” I scoff and Rowena opens her mouth to explain something I won’t understand, but I turn away from them because, like them, I won’t be convinced otherwise.

I get to my room, but I don’t even know what to do with myself now that I’m doing nothing. I pace for a while and then I stand there. I look at the stuff that I keep in my room, the stuff I use to make these concrete walls feel like home. I don’t hear anyone behind me, I know they’re waiting for me to cool down before they come find me. I assume they’re preparing everything for the spell in the meantime.

I go to the box that sits on the floor at the foot of my bed and I kneel down to open it. Only I know what sits way at the bottom. One of the perks of doing my own shit without being told, is that I get to hide stuff because my girlfriend doesn’t need to clean my stuff when I’ve already done it.

I pull out an unsuspecting, small wooden box from the bottom. When I open it, three rings glitter in the light of my room, it makes me nervous. I feel butterflies in my chest as the white gold glares at me, the diamonds on the one in the middle sparkle almost magically. I can’t let her jeopardise everything, but I can’t bear how it’ll change us if I stop her. It’s one thing to date her, but marriage is a whole other story. It’s eternity, at least to me, and I don’t think anyone would want that from me.

I’m fucked up in ways I can’t change, in ways I can’t ever say. Unless it’s some random person I’ll never see again, some person I don’t go home to. I know I’ve hurt her by doing that. I itch for hunts if I go two weeks without one, but I complain about wanting a normal life. I have a drinking problem I don’t address. I get angry at the ones I love, sometimes it’s blown out of proportion on my part. I make stupid decisions for the people I love, end up destroying the world more than once, or I willingly give myself as a sacrifice. Sometimes it’s not even out of courage, sometimes it’s the microscopic size of my ego, the nonexistent love I have for myself, or the fact that I want to give up.

I hide my pain behind jokes and laughs. I’d rather leave and sabotage something good rather than risk being hurt. I’m trapped in a cycle I can’t break out of, not the way the love of my life has. I’m stuck in ways I was treated by my father, my enemies. I believe every hurtful word and I can’t see myself the way her and Sam do.

I like questionable shit. She thinks it’s cute, sometimes she thinks it’s hot, but I’m not fucking normal. I do questionable shit. Not just the hunting and the killing. I have blood on my hands, seeped deep into my soul and into my mind. I have nightmares and flashbacks that don’t go away.

I’ve whored myself out for money, for food, for Sam, because my dad asked me to on cases. I feel disgusted with myself sometimes. I wish I’d waited. Sex was great when it happened, I liked it, it took my mind off shit in my life, but afterward it’s horrible. When they left or I left, it was the grossest feeling. Even if I stay ‘till morning, it ain’t the same. As much as I’d like to say casual sex is healthy and normal. I can’t say that’s the case for me. It was worse when I started dating her. I felt unworthy, I don’t even think she cares about who I fucked in the past, but I do.

I know all these things are bad and I can’t fucking change it. I don’t know how to stop it, I don’t know where to even start with myself. I’m too fucked up, I think so, I can’t be fixed. I can’t possibly make her happy forever. I’ll fuck up along the road. She probably won’t forgive me. I never expect her to.

I hear a knock on my door and I close the box, casually putting it back inside before getting up. My knees creak and I feel old suddenly, tired, too. I turn around to face the woman I love most. She has the softest look in her eyes and her lips form the saddest smile.

I still wonder if she can see how ugly I am.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I tell her, sitting down on the box. Her eyes flicker down to my shoes and she sighs, then steps forward.

“I never expected you to,” she murmurs. She wraps her arms around my neck and I bury my face in her stomach.

We stay that way for a while. She feels warm and comfortable, my hands rest on her hips and my thumbs brush beneath the cropped, white shirt she’s wearing. Her skin is soft and warm, I know she appreciates Cas’ healing, choosing to erase any damage from monsters we’ve encountered. She smells sweet and expensive, the scent of her perfume lingers on her clothes, it’s familiarity makes me warm inside.

I pull away to look up at her. She watches me curiously, her eyes drift over my face, and she looks content as she does it. I take her wrists shyly, I kiss her pulse like she’s done to me a billion times before, and I quietly admit: “I just can’t trust him, I’m afraid you’ll get hurt or something worse. I can’t do it. I can’t let you do it without knowing everything...”

“I know that,” she tells me. There's a hint of irritation in her voice that hurts me, but then she gets down onto her knees and takes my face in her hands. “I can’t control how you feel, Dean, I can only control how I feel, and I need to do this.” She explains it to me as gently as she can, and while I can understand where she’s coming from, I just don't care. I’d lock her in the dungeon if it meant she wouldn’t do it, but I know that’s extreme. I know she’d hate me for it, I’d hate to be controlled that way again, too. That’s the only thing that stops me. “Dean, please be with me when I do it,” she begs softly.

I want to cry and break something out of frustration. She’s stubborn as hell, just as much as I am. Instead, I grab her face and I kiss her roughly. She moans lowly, surprised by the suddenness of my affection, but she returns my kiss. I pour into her how much I hate this idea, how much I need her to listen to me, how much I love her.

When I pull away, she chases my mouth to continue the kiss, and I can’t deny her. She matches my possessiveness when I press my lips against hers again. I can tell what she's trying to say with the way she effortlessly slides her tongue into my mouth, tugs my hair, and draws a deep grunt from my chest. Her kiss is intoxicating and I suddenly regret teaching her everything she knows.

I pull away with so much effort and I pant against her wet lips. Her nose brushes against mine when she pulls back further to gaze at me. She returns with a smile and kisses the corner of my mouth. “If something happens-”

“It won’t,” she interrupts me. She kisses my jaw and I tilt my head in the direction that she pulls my hair.

“But if it does… I love you,” I confess, my voice raspy. Her lips freeze on my pulse and I feel my body go rigid. I know I’ve told her before and she’s reciprocated, but I still, always fear she won’t return the sentiment.

“If you only say that when you think we’re gonna die, I’d prefer that you never say it at all,” she said quietly, pulling away from me. I watch her sit down with an unreadable expression on her face and I wonder what she’s thinking as my heart sinks into the very hands that rest openly on her lap.

“Guys, everything’s ready,” Sam says softly from the door. We both look up at him and we nod without saying a word. He hesitates, watches us carefully, his clever eyes gather information, and then he walks away.

I help her up off the floor and the air around us is thick. There’s a distance between us and I wonder how fucked up we are that I don’t even know how we got to this point when just a few seconds ago, I had my mouth pressed aginst hers. I know that the problem goes deeper than just what’s happening now, but I don’t know how I’ve managed to miss the stuff that bothers her.

I feel a little hope spark in my chest when her hand brushes against mine, even though it hurts, I hope she doesn’t take it from me. Her slim fingers tickle my palm and I clasp her hand fully inside my own, walking with her slowly to where Sam and Rowena were waiting in the library.

Everything was shifted around the place, once we got there. The tables were pushed against the shelves so that there was a big open area now where Sam placed a plastic sheet over the wooden floor, to allow Rowena to paint marks over it for the spell. The air smelled spicy and flowery, tickling my eyes, the smoke made the library grey, and I felt sick again.

“Okay, I need you to lay down in the centre and hold the rock right here,” Rowena demonstrated to her once we stepped inside the library.

She did as Rowena asked. I felt more and more anxious as the minutes passed, but soon, Rowena was chanting some magic words in another language while Sam inspected what was happening like a good little apprentice. If anything went wrong I was ready to jump in and stop whatever the hell kind of spell they were working on. It would be reckless, but I can’t stand the thought of her getting hurt.

Nothing happens for a few minutes, but the rock starts to glow in the centre of her chest. It begins to crack, pure white light breaks through, and I look over to her face to check that she’s alright, but she looks more sleepy than in pain. I can tell she’s not really here by the empty look in her eyes she gets when she’s bored or deep in thought.

Despite the lack of discomfort in her face, I can’t seem to relax. I just know something will go wrong, it always does. I see Rowena move back slightly and I look over at the witch with concern before looking back at my girlfriend who’s surrounded by the right of pure white cloud that looks like a whole galaxy of bright dust with gold and opal.

It’s not until Rowena begins to aggressively chant her spell that I visibly start to freak out. It reminds me of possession, the way the cloud of smoke starts to rise to get inside her. The white rock bursts and sends pieces of itself flying across the room before it dives right into the centre of her chest where the rock had been before.

I can hear her start to cry and there’s suddenly pulses coming from her. She scrambles up suddenly and I walk towards her to help her get out, but Sam stops me with his hand wrapped tightly around my elbow. I freeze and watch helplessly as she hunches over while she sits on her legs, as if her stomach was hurting.

“Don’t fight it,” Rowena announced in between incantations, “control the way you feel.” I can hear her sobs and I yank my arm from Sam’s grip with a glare. When I get closer, Sam doesn’t stop me. She shouts and I can tell she lets go completely. Suddenly it’s like the polarity reverses, it just stops and it sits there before it begins to move inside of her faster, and it ends just as quickly.

It’s quiet now. I gaze down at her cautiously and I step forward as the glow in her chest dims and I can see that she’s crying. Tears are running down her face, but she looks up at me blankly.

“Are you okay? Did it hurt?” I ask her tenderly, kneeling down. I take her wrists and I can feel the erratic beat of her heart. I search her eyes and she’s smiling now, like that didn’t just happen.

“No, I’m fine,” she laughs softly. I break a smile, but I’m still worried, and I cup her warm face in my hands, wiping tears from her red cheeks.

“You’re crying,” I whisper, kissing her forehead. She pulls away and takes my hand to examine my wet thumbs. She looks at them with confusion and then wipes her wet eyes, seeing for herself that she’s definitely crying.

“Those aren’t my tears,” she tells me. Before I can say anything, I see the floor beneath us suddenly transform into hexagonal shapes, showing small places I’ve never seen before—like photographs.

“Dean!” I hear Sam shout, but then the woman in my arms yelps when it starts to fall apart underneath us and we fall through. There’s nothing around us when we're falling and we cling to each other. Suddenly, there’s another hexagonal thing in the middle of the dark abyss and we start to fall through it—inside a building instead. I’m certain we’re gonna die.

But as we get a few centimetres above ground, I tighten my grip around her small body and we stop. There’s no impact, no pain, no sound. I open my eyes and I see the marble floor as it grazes my nose and then we fall the last distance with no problem.

“See? Nothing bad happened, you are wrong sometimes, Dean.” I look up, away from the girl underneath me whose head is tilted up towards the familiar voice with a smile on her face. I see myself. Definitely an older version of me with stubble—almost a beard—and longer hair. He’s wearing a black turtleneck and a black coat. It looks fucking awesome, but I think this guy was flirting with my girl in her dreams, so I glare at him instead.

“Who are you? What is this place? And what did you do to my girlfriend?” The guy only laughs, he’s not looking at me, he’s looking down at her. She’s looking at him like she’s his biggest fan in the world, but under the silent stare it’s like there’s some inside joke I’m not a part of and I feel so irritated.

“I’m you, from a future that doesn’t exist anymore,” he starts, finally looking at me, “this place is.. well, mostly I watch the multiverse, I can see all the timelines, make sure no one’s in danger. The most important job is preventing God from doing what he did before.” I look around at the room we’re in. The walls are black—architecturally speaking, everything is geometric. The lights are dim and there are destroyed statues along the walls in the hallway. The floor is dark red, shiny, but only acts as a rug would. The ceiling is tall, almost endless, and I’m sure there is actually no ceiling at all. “As for what we did to her..'' he trails off and bites his lip. “Long story short, we gathered your variants before they were killed off by Chuck and we put their souls in the rock. When you absorbed it, it made you powerful, not a soul-bomb like Dean. I’m talking about your dreamwalking abilities,” he explains to her.

“We who?” I ask. He’s about to answer, but I’ve got a million questions running through my mind the longer he talks and the longer I’m here. “How many variants, or whatever, is that, then? Also, what do you mean she’s more powerful?” She reaches out for my wrist and I look down at her, but I can’t calm down, I can’t slow down. I have no idea where we are or why they want her here. “And what does Jack think about all this?”

The older me laughs and shakes his head at me. It pisses me off. He’s handsome, but I’ll punch him anyway.

“Come on, I’ve got a meeting soon,” he told us, then started walking down the seemingly endless hallway. The doors opened strangely, one door slid upwards, but behind it was another door that sunk down into the floor. When we stepped outside, everything was black, there was a faint white light in the distance and the body of what looked like a leviathan. Not the ones we know, but the things without a human meat suit.

“Is this the future or something?” I ask. It’s all terrifying. I look down and see there’s a whole other level, and it’s all connected like a maze or a labyrinth. The floor we walk on to the next pyramid-like building is an opaque crystal structure that I know is thick as hell, but I’m scared shitless anyway. There’s no wind blowing, not even a sound, but when the older version of me speaks, his voice bounces strangely around us.

“Uh… see that bright light? That’s the beginning of time, all of this here, is the end. We’re technically in between,” he clarifies.

“So… wait, she can time travel?” I ask, somewhat delighted at the thought.

“Yeah, dreams are the easiest way to time travel,” he chuckles, “I use Baby to time travel. It’s my personal, sexy, TARDIS. Thanks to Jack, but he regrets that now.” He laughs heartily at that and I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty jealous of the fact that he’s upgraded to a time travelling Impala. “Anyway… uh, there were only twenty six other variants of you,” he tells her. The small number shocks me, but I don’t dwell on it for long because she doesn’t seem phased. I’ll have to talk about that with her later. “And that portal you fell through? That’s what your abilities do now. When Jack would use your abilities, you could see them like picture frames in your mind, but now you can access them at any point, whenever you want.”

I look above and I can see there’s still more monuments above us somehow floating in the air, or maybe they’re being held by another structure, but I’m not sure. If we weren’t outside, risking our lives and falling off the walkway, I’d be amazed by this place. Whatever it is.

“As for what Jack thinks of this place,” he laughs heartily and looks at us. I can see sadness in his eyes, he can’t hide his emotions from me, but I don’t think he cares about that because he doesn’t look away. “I think I annoy him so much he doesn’t even care what I do anymore, besides he can’t destroy this place. It’s God-proofed. As for you, he won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“I don’t understand why you want me to be powerful,” she wonders out loud to him after a while. We’re standing by another door, this one opens like elevator doors, and the room is brighter. There’s gold, sparkling gems, and giant jewels scattered on the floor.

“I just wanted to find a way to keep you safe indefinitely,” he told her with a shrug. I pause for a moment, maybe he’s not as bad as I made him out to be. This whole time I was busy thinking he was endangering her, but he might actually be trying to keep her safe. I still think there’s something romantic going on, considering that it’s me, considering that he’d go through all that trouble to keep her safe. I wouldn’t do all that for just anyone. “I’m always checking on you, making sure you’re safe. I honestly spend so much of my time focusing on you instead of the whole multiverse,” he admitted bashfully. “I don’t think that’s a problem, but.. I think I’m in love with you enough, and you’ve already got your Dean. Also… I have people depending on me to focus on the job, which is way better than hunting, honestly,” he laughed nervously.

I narrowed my eyes at him for admitting that. He doesn’t seem phased because I look over and she’s blushing, trying to act normal. She’s never had a reaction like this to any other man who’s hit on her, but now that it’s someone who has my face, she’s acting the way she acts with me when I do it. I know she can’t control it, it’s me after all, but it makes my chest burn with jealousy.

“Listen, dude, I get that you’re all fucking awesome with your costumes and running this place, but stop hitting on her, okay?” I ask sarcastically with a tight smile.

“Dean,” she scolds me. She grabs my sleeve, tugs lightly, and she looks so fucking adorable right now, it’s making it hard for me to stand my ground.

“No, okay,” I groan exasperatedly, tugging away from her. “What the fuck, guys? I mean… seriously. Nothing in our lives is normal, but this shit is literally- I don’t even know what to make of any of this! It’s fucked up, you’re in love with her when you’ve never met her? What the hell?” I tug at my hair and then I slide my hands tiredly down my face.

She blinks up at me like I just told her the most insane conspiracy theory and I sigh. Her face softens and she hugs me instead of saying something. She nuzzles her face into my chest and I hear her breathe me in. Her arms are tight around my waist and I finally return her embrace, I kiss the top of her head, and my entire body releases the tension I’ve been keeping inside me since we started talking to Rowena.

“I get it. It’s me and you don’t even trust yourself,” the other Dean begins, “but when we sleep, we dream about each other's lives. We dream of her.” She pulls away from me and I force myself to look away to consider his words. “All of us. In every universe, every version of you. We see how close to happily ever after you are with the kindest, loving, most caring woman to exist in the entire multiverse. We want what you have, as fucked up as everything else in your life is, you’ve got this one good thing. And you do so much to fuck it up. You don’t have to trust us, but trust that she’ll stay with you.”

I think quietly to myself. As much as it irritates me, I should put myself in her shoes, too. She has to deal with hundreds of girls flirting and throwing themselves shamelessly at me and she never makes a big deal out of it. It’s because she trusts me that she doesn’t give a shit what they say or do. She jokes with me when they give me their numbers, claiming she’ll give them a call when she needs someone to babysit me. If they flirt, she’ll teasingly repeat it and bother me about it for the rest of the day. Whatever it is, she laughs and makes the best of something people would feel generally insecure about. That’s because at the end of the day, she’s the one I’m sleeping next to, she’s the one I’m waking up to, she’s the one who spends every second of every day at my side.

Nobody can compete with that.

The sound of doors opening thankfully breaks the silence. I don’t have to admit he’s right, but I look down at her in my arms, and her eyes tell me she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Sir, I’ve been look-” another voice that sounds like mine breaks us apart and I’m only half-surprised to see myself wearing that stupid Ken Doll suit Zachariah dressed me in for kicks to prove a stupid fucking point. “Oh…” Like the older version of me, he gawks at the woman who’s standing in front of me.

“Dean, this is.. well, this is ridiculous actually, I don’t gotta introduce us,” older Dean chuckles. The younger looking version of me has a cart with cardboard boxes and he continues to bring them towards us. “Also, don’t call me sir, we’ve talked about this,” he adds good-naturedly with a smile and a shake of his head.

“Uh, sorry. Hi,” Ken-Doll steps closer to her and, of course, my woman is on cloud nine. “Wow, you’re way more beautiful than I dreamed,” he breathes out. I puff my cheeks trying to hold back saying something snarky in response. But all self-control nearly leaves my body when she fucking giggles shyly and rubs the back of her neck.

“Okay!” Older Dean did something before I did, and the spell between Ken and my lover broke. “Did you get the files for Lush?” He asks Ken-Dean, giving me the side-eye, as if to tell me to cool down. I swear every version of me has gotten on my nerves without me having to meet any of them.

“Yeah… uh, yes, we’ve got her background, which universes she actually exists in, her status, what’s she’s currently doing, what she can do… y’know, the basics,” Ken informs him. Older me takes off the top of one of the boxes, sifts through files, and nods his head proudly.

“Great, so the team you’re leading? It’s all good?”

“Yes, we’ll be focusing on this case for the time being, keeping an eye on her,” he discloses, “we all agree she could be a danger to the timeline.” Both me and her are completely absorbed in the conversation they’re having. I’m curious about whatever the fuck they’re doing and why all those words sound so badass in a sentence together.

“We’ll talk about that later.”

“Right, the meeting, let’s walk together?”

Older Dean gave me a tight smile and I followed them both with my quiet girlfriend by my side. I should relax, there’s no harm in being in love with someone so long as they don’t make a move and I have nothing to be afraid of when it comes to her. She’s still standing next to me, her hand finds my wrist and I tug her into my side. She stumbles and laughs softly, letting me put my arm around her shoulders while she wraps her arm around my waist.

In just a few minutes, we walk by a whole bunch of me’s wearing soldier-like uniforms, they’ve all got numbers across their backs, a logo of a shooting star with the words ‘THE MONUMENT’ on their chest. Despite having been serious, they cracked upon seeing her, too. Their faces carried little smiles after passing her and her cheeks were red from all the attention she was getting.

“So, do we get chosen by Jack or how does this whole thing work?” I ask, trying to get her attention away from the hot soldiers. At least I know she’s attracted to me in every shape and style.

“Jack has no power here,” the older me reassured us again. “Typically, after the variants lose everything or once they die, they’re given the option to come here… we’re never surprised that they prefer to be here, surrounded by the rest of us, getting a chance to be closer to you.”

“Can’t be easy facing each other, knowing how you are,” she says astutely. I was thinking the same exact thing.

“Yeah, well… you changed all of that for us,” this time Ken spoke up. She looks up at them attentively and a little smile tugs at her lips.

There’s another me leaning against the wall by the door we’re about to go into. He’s smoking a cigarette and he’s covered in tattoos. I can see them peek out of the neck of his t-shirt, both arms are covered in sleeves of art, and he smirks as soon as he sees her. I roll my eyes, I know what to expect from every version of me that I see. Especially if they feel some sort of gratitude towards her for undoing all the horrible things they were put through against their will.

“Fuck, baby, look at you,” he praised. He even has the audacity to take her chin between his fingers and angle her face in his direction. She averted her gaze shyly, but I can tell she melts into him, especially when he brushes his thumb gently across her lip. He bites his own and I think about how lucky they are that she loves them because they’re alternative me’s. “At least one of us got lucky.” He let her go gently and took another drag of his cigarette before getting out of the way to get inside the room with us.

“Which Dean is that?” She asks quietly, but I can sense a bit of excitement in her tone. I squeeze her against my side as a warning, but she snorts at me.

“The original Dean Chuck had in mind,” older me replied, holding the door open for a few other ‘variants’ of myself to enter after us.

“Hot,” she hummed flagrantly.

“Sweetheart,” I beg quietly. It makes both the older and younger me laugh.

“Dean, it’s the truth, but I’m messing with you,” she laughs, too.

“You’re unbelievable.” Still, I can’t stop the smile on my face.

“You’d do the same if you were in a room filled with a bunch of other variants of me,” she reasoned, dragging me over to where there were empty seats. It wasn’t next to the older me, or Ken me, or tatted me. Next to her was a variant of me with a beard, a plaid neckerchief like a cowboy, wearing a tactical vest. Next to me was an alternate version of me wearing a black t-shirt with a firefighters’ logo.

Now that I’m sitting here looking at every variant of me around the hexagonal table, I start to realise this is literally a room filled with her sex fantasies of me. I can recall having worn most of these costumes when we have roleplayed for sex. She would dress up in something sexy for me, too, it was our thing.

I leaned towards her as the older me started talking about that Lush chick Ken me had been talking about. She leans into me to listen closely to what I have to say. “D’ya think they’ve seen us have sex?” I whisper discreetly. I notice the way her eyes widen and pink starts to glow over her cheeks. “Maybe… think they’ve had a little love session with their hand thinking of you? I don’t doubt it..” I whisper crudely. She shifts in her seat and I feel so smug now, I grab her rolling chair and I pull her closer.

“I bet they’re always thinking of you. Even after bangin’ some random chick, they wish it was you in their bed. They’re probably single on purpose, miserable with anyone that isn’t you. I would be. I’d never be able to settle down with anyone as long as I dream of you. I’d be happier alone than with some girl I like halfway knowing my whole heart and soul belongs to you and you alone. Ever across the entire multiverse. I’d choose you.” I press my lips to her warm cheek, then I let my mouth move over hers to kiss her properly. She tilts her head in my direction and accepts my tongue into her mouth when I tease the seam of her lips.

“Dean,” I hear older me’s voice. I pull away from her mouth and I lick my lips, staring down at her as she tries to recompose herself. Everyone is staring at us and I know they’re definitely me because they don’t even look away when I catch them.

“I’m not sorry about that,” I say smugly, “you all wanna do it anyway.” I feel her hand squeeze my thigh and I stay quiet, but so does the rest of the room. After a few minutes of silence, older me starts to talk again about a plan of action in case Lush gets out of hand. I lean forward again and I ask her one last thing, “you want them to fuck you, don’t you?”

She blushes harder somehow and she takes the cold glass of water in front of her to cool down. I don’t need her to answer verbally, her body language is enough to tell me just what she’s thinking. My brain starts to imagine ways I could fulfil her fantasy when the bearded me talks to her and asks, “did the boss tell ya what he did, then?”

He appears more thoughtful about the question he asks than like he wants to gossip. The question piques my interest and I lean towards him. He’s watching us closely, there’s no jealousy or envy, his presence is just full of love and respect like every other me has exuded since we’ve crossed paths. “‘S nothin’ we all wouldn’t do,” he defends, almost as if he thinks I’m trying to get proof that this place is too good to be true. Like a true me, he suspects I’m waiting for the shoe to drop.

“What did he do?” I asked, hoping I didn't sound urgent. The three of us lean in as subtly as we could to hear each other.

“He disintegrated his whole timeline by saving you.”

➥ the love letter collection : part two

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