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steddieas-shegoes · 2 months

Text

so glad i found you

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is coparenting'

rated t | 1,428 words | cw: mention of previous marriage (steve's) | tags: established relationship, single dad steve (except he isn't anymore *wink wink*), steddie dads, modern au, marriage proposal

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

"Sarah, come on!" Steve yelled from the kitchen, his eyes drifting to the clock that he hoped was lying. They were gonna be late for school. Again.

"Daddy, I can't find my jacket!" Sarah came running through the kitchen, only half-dressed, no backpack in sight.

"What do you mean? It was on the hook last night."

"It's not now."

Steve groaned.

And then a jacket was thrust into his hands and a sleep-rough voice was in his ear. "Found it on the floor in the bathroom."

Steve grabbed the jacket from Eddie, kissing his cheek in thanks.

"Eddie found it, let's go!" Steve yelled before whispering to just Eddie. "Thank you, baby. Sorry for waking you up."

"Needed to get up anyway. Wanted to say bye to Sarah."

Steve watched as Eddie walked over to the cabinet that held their vitamins. He reached in and grabbed the gummies Sarah was supposed to take every day. Steve wasn't always the best about remembering them, but Eddie never forgot.

He reached in the fridge next, grabbing the smoothie Steve forgot about and handing it to him. "Since I know you didn't eat anything," Eddie kissed his cheek again and leaned against the counter holding the gummies for Sarah.

"Thanks, Eds," Steve said as Sarah came crashing back into the kitchen and reached for her jacket. "Why did you move this into the bathroom?"

"I didn't."

"Ah, I fear the ghosts are at it again, Steve," Eddie said, smirking when Sarah giggled. He handed her the gummies once she had her arms in the jacket. "Vitamins to make you big and strong, your highness."

"Thanks, Dad."

Everyone froze. The clock on the wall stopped ticking. The air was sucked out of the room.

Sarah was bright red, and because she wasn't the type to stick around an awkward situation, she turned and walked out of the room.

Eddie blinked at Steve, lips parted as he tried to remember how to breathe.

He'd been with Steve for just over a year, and while he didn't technically live with them, he spent more time at their apartment than his own. He was on Sarah's emergency pick-up list, took her with him to run errands when Steve had to work late, bought her things when the budget allowed just because he wanted to, and would read to her most nights that he stayed over. In many ways, he was her dad.

She hardly knew her mom, only spent two weeks every summer with her and was perfectly fine with that. Steve's ex-wife had admitted from the beginning of the pregnancy that she thought it was a mistake and when she filed for divorce when Sarah was six months old, Steve wasn't surprised. She had no interest in being a mom the way Steve had so desperately wanted to be a dad. But even still, Eddie never wanted them to feel like he was trying to force any type of parental power.

She'd called him Eddie until this moment, and he'd been completely fine with it. He would've been fine with it forever if it meant he got to have them both.

"I can talk to her. I don't think she meant to say it and it's okay if you don't want her to. She'll understand and-" Steve started rambling, trying to prevent Eddie from panicking.

But he wasn't. He was just doing his best not to start crying.

"But did she mean it?" He asked, voice shaking as he realized how much he did want her to call him Dad.

"I dunno, Eds. Probably. You know she never says things she doesn't mean. But we can talk to her-"

"No. I mean, yes, we should. But not because I don't want her to." Eddie took a deep breath. "I've kinda been her dad for a while now. It feels like it, at least. We've been in this together for most of the last year, ya know? I wanna be this for her and for you."

Steve was going to melt into a puddle, maybe right through the floor into the apartment below them. The nice old couple who lived there would have to mop him up.

"Daddy? Da-Eddie?" Sarah's small voice said from the doorway.

"Come here, sweet pea," Steve got down closer to her level. She was tall for her age, but even at eight years old, she was barely level with his chest. "Do you wanna call Eddie Dad? There's no wrong answer."

Eddie nodded, getting down to her level, too.

"It won't hurt my feelings if you just said it by accident, princess. I promise I love being your Eddie," he smiled at her.

He meant that, he wouldn't lie to her. But a small part of him hoped she wouldn't go back to calling him just Eddie after that. Not after he had a taste of what it could be like to be her dad.

"Well, you do dad stuff with me. Like when we built that birdhouse because I was scared the robin would have her eggs in a tree and they'd fall and crack and the babies would die. And when you took me shopping for a dress so I could go to Daddy's awards for work. And you always read to me with the voices and stuff." Sarah was playing with her hair, a nervous habit she'd somehow picked up from Eddie in such a short time. "And that's stuff that Daddy does with me all the time too, like when you're not here with us to do it. And sometimes even when you are and you both do it it feels like I have two dads. I like having two dads."

Steve and Eddie were both barely holding back tears as she spoke. She'd always been incredibly brave about her feelings.

"I like doing all that stuff with you, princess. But I would love it all no matter what you called me, okay?" Eddie said around a barely contained sob.

"But you love Daddy and me right?"

"Of course."

"And you kinda live with us."

He let out a wet laugh. "Yeah, I guess I kinda do."

"And you maybe will get married?"

Steve nearly choked on his own breath. "Sarah, honey, remember I told you that kind of decision is something that takes time and-"

"Yeah, princess. I think maybe we will. Not right now, but someday," Eddie interrupted.

Steve resisted glaring at him. He knew better than to make promises to a child, they'd already been over this before, and he could already see Sarah's wheels spinning.

"Wait-"

"So I can wear a pretty dress?" Sarah asked, as if that was the most important thing. "Can I hold both your hands?"

"If your Daddy is okay with it when it happens. But you know what has to happen first?" Eddie poked her dimple, smiling at her with teary eyes. "He has to say yes."

Sarah looked over at Steve, who was...confused.

"Daddy! Say yes!"

"He's gotta ask!" Steve exclaimed. "And he doesn't have a ring. We've only been together a year."

"Stevie."

Something in Eddie's voice made Steve pause and look at him instead of Sarah.

"I have a ring. Not with me, but. I already know you're it for me." Eddie held Sarah's hand and Steve's. "I just wanted to make sure Sarah was okay with it first. So. Sarah Harrington."

"Yes, Dad?"

Jesus, Steve was pretty sure he would die from this. In a good way, maybe the best way, but Jesus Christ.

"Would it be okay if I ask your dad to marry me? I could be your other dad and I promise I can read to you every night."

"Hm." Sarah thought for barely a second before she beamed at Steve. "Daddy, I'm saying yes. So you have to say yes. I want Eddie to live with us forever."

The most important thing to Steve was someone who Sarah loved and who loved Sarah in return, someone who was part of their family because they wanted to be, someone who felt proud to be theirs.

Eddie checked off all of that and then some.

He looked at Eddie and smiled. "Well, you heard the princess. Yes!"

Being late for school turned into being absent from school. Steve and Eddie skipped work for the day so they could all be together. Eddie went to his apartment to get the ring and Sarah made decorations for a "real" proposal.

He didn't mind that it wasn't anything extravagant. None of them did.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is coparenting

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callsigndragon · 1 year

Text

Sunshine | Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

(I love this gif so much I'm not even joking)

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Wife!reader

Word count: 1010

Warnings: nothing! Pure, lovely fluff.

This was requested by @bookaholics-stuff. Thank you, honey! This was such a cute request and I just had to write it NOW. Hope you like it!

FOREVER TGM TAGLIST: @tayrae515 @alexxavicry @xoxabs88xox @mercurio23 @shrimping-for-all @abaker74

(if you want to be tagged, ask me!)

Mrs. Seresin was the only thing Jake didn't brag about. Don't get me wrong, it's not because he is not proud of you. Quite the opposite.

He's so damn happy to have you in his life that he wants to treasure you. Keep you to himself.

And there hasn't been a lot of time to talk about each other's lives during this mission. Phoenix wants to fix this matter, actually, suggesting all the members that a day at the beach could be a good opportunity to get to know each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake had agreed to meet with the rest this Saturday, have something to drink at the Hard Deck, play some Dogfight football… Just a bunch of friends spending a normal day at the beach without having to worry about the safety of the planet. But that plan is thrown out the window when you, Y/n Seresin, the love of Jake’s life, ring the bell of Jake and Javy’s shared house.

“Sunshine? Oh my god, what are you doing here?” Jake says, while hugging you tightly. It has only been a few weeks since the last time he saw you, but it feels like a lifetime away from you.

“Heard that my handsome hubby had chalked up another kill, saved the day and also the famous Maverick. I had to come here and celebrate!” you explain, covering his face with kisses, Jake scrunching his nose due to the pure happiness of the moment.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush, Mrs. Seresin”

“Where’s Javy?” you ask, entering the house and leaving your small suitcase in the bedroom.

“I don’t know, he said he was gonna meet Mickey and Reuben to buy something. Don’t ask me why because I can’t remember” he confesses, laughing.

“Oh my, Jake Seresin, aren't you a bit young to be forgetting things?” you joke as you lay down on the bed, tired from the flight from Austin. You had been staying with your sister-in-law and her two kids for a few days, not wanting to be alone when you found out how dangerous this mission was going to be.

“It’s your fault. Do I have to remind you how I forgot my own name when I first saw you?” he recalls, sitting in the bed next to you, his hand quickly moving to your hair, and moving some strands out of your face. “You still have that effect on me, Sunshine”

You smile, satisfaction running through your body as you realize that no matter how much time passes, Jake will always be completely and utterly in love with you. “I saw the beach while in the taxi. This place is amazing, Jake. And you are definitely sunbathing without me, huh? Look at that golden skin” you poke his cheek, making him giggle like a teenager.

Everyone saw Hangman, the aviator.

But only you were able to see Jake, the loving husband.

“Want me to take you to the beach, sunshine? We can take a bath and go for a walk.” he offers, kissing your forehead.

“I’d love to”

“Is that woman talking to Hangman?” Phoenix questions out loud while leaving the cooler that Mickey, Reuben and Javy had bought earlier to fill with drinks, in the sand.

“Maybe he is talking to the poor woman,” Fanboy suggests, moving his sunglasses down his nose to try and understand the whole situation. “Should we go rescue her?”

“She doesn’t seem uncomfortable, though” Payback adds, the whole squad standing there like a bunch of sentinels, ready to jump into action if the lady needed to be liberated from the blonde cowboy.

Seconds later, Hangman is throwing the poor girl over his shoulder and walking straight to the water. “Oh god, he’s gonna get smacked,” Bob laughs, opening his blue folding chair and sitting down to enjoy the show.

“JAKE SERESIN PUT ME DOWN” you yell, trying to leave your husband’s arms, only to be thrown in the water. You stand up, your sundress now completely stuck to your body. Thank god you are wearing your swimsuit underneath. “If I didn’t vow to love you for the rest of my life I would kill you”

“Did she say ‘vow’ as in ‘wedding vow’?" Rooster asks, looking at the rest of his team. “Man, I don’t understand anything”

Javy, who had been trying to get the beach umbrella from the trunk after it got stuck, walks happily to the rest, wondering why the heck are they standing there like… well, idiots. “Guys what are you- Y/N SERESIN?”

“JAVY!” the woman, who now everyone knows it’s a Seresin, runs to Javy, almost tackling him to the ground. "I'm so glad you're okay"

"What are you guys doing here?" Questions Hangman to the group, joining his wife and his best friend.

"Dude, beach day. We told you" Fanboy looks at Hangman, wondering if the pilot really had forgotten about it or was just messing with them.

"Excuse my husband, he's having trouble remembering things lately" you tease him, earning a glare from Jake.

"Husband" mutters Bob.

"Husband?" asks Phoenix.

"Husband!" confirms Javy.

"I'm Y/N. We've been married for three years now. And no, I wasn't forced to marry him, Rooster. I know you were about to say that" you say to Bradley, leaving him shocked.

"I was gonna ask that, yes. How did you know? And how did you know I was Rooster"

"Oh, cause I'm good, Rooster. I'm really good" you retort, making Jake laugh.

"Oh no, there's two of them. We're doomed" Bob says, sitting down again.

"I'm guessing Javy was the best-man?" Javy nods at Phoenix, answering her question. "Well, Mrs. Seresin, would you like to play some Dogfight football with us?"

"I don't even know what's that but teach me, and I will play" you say, taking off the sundress and stealing Jake's sunglasses from him.

He looks at you, wondering what had he done in a past life to be this lucky. Good job, good friends, and the perfect wife. His own personal sunshine.

#top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #jake hangman x fem!reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #hangman fluff #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #hangman x you

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konigbabe · 1 year

Text

propinquity

Pairing: bodyguard!Price x fem!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Tags/Warnings: smut; nsfw; dom!price; top!price; p-in-v sex; kinda an illicit relationship; age gap (still legal and consenting tho); AU world; oral sex (female receiving); outside sex; praise kink; penetrative sex

Summary: Being the daughter of the prime minister doesn't always come with privileges - especially after a terrorist organization publicly declares its intention of taking the lives of your family because of your father's decisions. The situation gets even worse when you have to deal with a bodyguard who is anything but pleasant to be around.

A/N: This is basically an AU - the premise is that Captain Price is an ex-SAS soldier who retired and became a bodyguard instead of creating TF 141.

masterlist • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

The hand that was still holding you firmly against the tree trunk moved to your thigh, squeezing it reassuringly before he replaced his tongue with his fingers, lips moving upwards to eagerly lap on your painfully aching clit.

He brought you to a place of exquisite bliss. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, enveloping you in a cocoon of passion. You were lost in the moment, at this moment, and nothing else mattered.

The thing about having a permanent, over 180 centimeters-tall shadow is that it was not entirely familiar to you and made you feel peculiar. People would look twice when they saw you and him.

Price, as you'd come to address him, wasn't particularly fond of you either. He knew this line of work would mean meeting a variety of new people on a regular basis. What he didn't sign up for was, in his words, "babysitting a crude birdie who happened to be potty trained just yesterday".

There was no love-hate relationship nor any need for it; John was there purely as your protector, a man hired to guard your body and for the right remuneration, he was willing to do just about anything to make sure you were kept safe.

His presence awakened a feeling of safety within you. Despite his at-times harsh behavior, he always seemed to take care of you just the way you needed.

Sitting at your kitchen island, you looked at your dad in disbelief, feeling a sense of hopelessness but still clinging to a small thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could somehow change his mind. You had a pretty clear idea of what the outcome of this conversation would be before you even asked him, but the faintest spark of hope kept you from giving up.

"Dad, you can't possibly be serious about this," you groaned at the laptop screen, watching with exasperation as he exhaled heavily and slowly straightened his back.

"Darling," his voice was calm, a little raspy from his long day at work, "it isn't safe for you and you know it."

"But everyone is going there. My whole class is gonna be there. It's literally in the middle of the woods, do you seriously believe that some terrorists are about to attack me there? It's been weeks since that letter and nothing happened, it might even be a hoax."

Unfortunately, your complaints were not taken into consideration as you stared at your father with pleading eyes.

"I'm not going to repeat myself. This is my final decision and you are not permitted to go."

"Didn't you say that I should enjoy my university life to the fullest? Because in the last few weeks, the only places I've been to are my flat and classes. And this bloke," you pointed at Price, who was until this moment casually leaning against the counter with a cuppa in his hands, "is staring at my back 24/7".

Price, clad in a simple grey shirt tucked into his dress pants, raised an eyebrow and glanced at you, taking in the situation with a slow and calming breath. He paused for a moment before taking a sip of his tea, allowing the warmth of the liquid to soothe his nerves.

"You're right," your father gave a knowing nod before his eyes shifted away from you, "John?"

"Yes, sir," Price answered, his voice low and questioning. He put the cup on the kitchen island and made his way closer to face his boss, his strides slow yet confident. One arm was carelessly draped over the back of your chair while the other came to rest on the kitchen island for support. The faint smell of cigars and sandalwood, so specifically his, filled the air and indulged your senses as you felt his arm brush your shoulder. A sudden wave of warmth and comfort washed over you as you realized just how close he was.

Having been mere centimeters away from you, you looked up into his face, his freshly trimmed and styled beard looking so incredibly soft. You always wanted to sneak a touch to find out if it was as soft as it appeared or if he was one of those men with a beard full of harsh and prickly hairs.

How would he feel between your legs? Was he a man who took pride in his skillful use of his tongue, or was he someone who was eager to get his cock wet? Most of your past partners weren't particularly enthusiastic about performing oral sex on you...you blamed it on the fact that they were young. You had heard from your friend that older men were usually more traditional and preferred to be more generous with their tongues. You couldn't help but question - was Price one of those gentlemen?

Hearing your name fall from John's lips made you realize just how tightly you had clenched your thighs together, face dangerously close to the crook of his neck.

It's just hormones, just a surge of estrogen and progesterone that want me to breed, you shook your head in a desperate attempt to clear your befouled mind.

"You're staying in your bedroom tonight," your father said, "John will make sure you don't leave your room."

Sucking in your dry lips, you remained silent for a moment, your mind spinning with forbidden fantasies, the kind that left you feeling guilty and excited all at once.

"John, just make sure my daughter won't leave. I have a feeling she will be a troublemaker."

"I can handle a troublemaker, sir," your bodyguard said as you tried your best not to show any sigh of annoyance out of respect for your father.

"Good to know. Have a good night you two," with those words, the screen went completely black.

"Love you too, dad," you mumbled as you turned around, slipping under John's inviting arm and taking your keys.

"Where do you think you're going, birdie," John stepped slowly around the kitchen island, his eyes never leaving your figure. His arms were crossed over his chest as if to challenge you to a battle of wills.

"Going to the party," you mirrored his stance, "look, Price," taking a step closer and unfolding your arm, you stared into his eyes, "I am well aware that you are doing this for the pay grade. You don't really care about me but c'mon, you were young once too, I bet. Don't tell me you've never been to a party. I mean, we all have a right to have some fun, don't you think? If a party is what it takes to make this job easier, then why not? We all deserve to take a break once in a while, and I don't think it will hurt anyone if I just go and have some fun."

"My personal life is none of your bloody business," Price growled as he snatched the keys from your grasp.

"Now go to your room," he ordered, "and don't make me drag you there again."

"Unbelievable, Price, just unbelievable," you groaned in frustration and stomped your way to the bedroom, practically slamming the doors in anger to make it perfectly clear to Price just how irritated he had made you.

You laid down on the bed and listened to the sound of Price starting the shower. An idea popped in your head as you walked to the doors and tried to open them but they were locked.

You let out a loud, angry scream as you punched the doors a few times with all your might, your rage beginning to build up inside. He had really locked you in there.

Your hand throbbed from the constant pummeling it had taken as you slumped against the door, alone. Everyone else was at the party, enjoying their drinks, but here you were once more, cooped up in your flat with Price, unable to partake.

As you sat there, your chin resting on your knees, your gaze gradually shifted to the window. That should work.

“Screw you, John Price.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The bonfire danced before you as you stared into its flames, the taste of cheap alcohol lingering in your mouth bitterly, a reminder of the good whiskey, brand unknown, that Price kept in one of the cupboards, out of your reach - or so he thought. You remembered the feeling of that whiskey and how it filled you with warmth and a sense of contentment, something that this cheap alcohol could never give you.

The first time you chanced upon the bottle of scotch tucked away in the back of your cupboard was quite accidental. You suspected Price of being a drinker but had never actually seen him with a glass of liquor in his hand. However, while you were on the hunt for some sweets to satisfy your craving, you stumbled upon the half-empty bottle of scotch. Naturally, you couldn't resist pouring yourself a glass every now and then, and were certain Price had noticed you drinking it, yet he chose not to bring it up for some reason.

You wondered what he was doing, something you hadn't done before. This was the first time since you had met that you were without your shadow. It made you feel strangely uncomfortable, knowing his presence was missing and the sense of comfort he had brought you was gone, replaced by uncertainty. Something you had once found strange and unexpected in your life, but now had become a part of it, something you had grown fond of.

What will he do once he finds out the truth? Once he realizes you are gone? Your wandering thoughts made you check your phone absent-mindedly.

No missed calls, no unread messages.

"Do you think if we say his name three times, he will show up," your friend suggested, "like Bloody Mary?"

"Don't even joke about that," you let out a chuckle, sipping on your drink.

"John Price," another girl sitting by your side said, throwing her arm around you with a warm and friendly embrace.

"John Price," she repeated his name with a wide grin.

Something inside you shifted, a deep-seated emotion expanding and stretching through your chest like a tightly wound elastic band being slowly lengthened. Hearing your bodyguard's name coming from her mouth filled your body with a feeling you couldn't even begin to put into words. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you watched her repeat his name for the third time, the emotion in your chest slowly stretching and winding its way through your body.

A body squeezed itself between you and your girl friend. With a slight jump of your heart, you quickly glanced over to see the face of a boy you recognized from your classes, but one whom you had no idea who he was. He was someone you saw on a regular basis but had never spoken to.

"Hi there, ladies."

The moment his lips opened, you could smell the sharp, pungent scent of alcohol emanating from his mouth. You crinkled your nose in disgust, feeling his hand on the lower part of your back, like a vice-grip, as if attempting to keep you from running away from the situation, "How are we tonight? Are we having a good time?"

"Not anymore," your friend said standing up, "gonna grab us more drinks, be right back."

As you were left alone there, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, the desire to leave grew stronger as his hand kept lowering further down your back.

"Wanna go for a walk?" his lips brushed your ear as his hand rested on your bare thigh, the skirt feeling far too short as his fingers trailed their way up your leg.

"Not really, no," you choked out, putting your hand on his to stop his assault on your thigh.

"C'mon, just a fifteen-minute walk's all we need," he smiled, and in any other situation, you would have felt drawn to him, maybe even thought he was cute, but right now, all you wanted was to be invisible, to disappear and not draw any attention to yourself.

"I believe the lady said no," a firm voice declared with a commanding presence. A dark figure appeared before you, indulging you in his shadow as he stood with his back towards the bonfire.

"Bloody Mary," you exhaled, the tightness in your chest slowly dissipating as you stared into Price's eyes. He avoided making eye contact with you, instead focusing his gaze on the boy, who instinctively tensed up and shifted away from you in reaction.

Normally, his presence would fill you with annoyance, possibly ruining your perfect day, but now all you wanted to do was run into his embrace and feel the security of his arms around you.

The boy left without a fight, leaving an eerie stillness in his wake. You felt Price's eyes on you, and the silence seemed to stretch on forever. You could almost feel the tension in the air, and you had to resist the urge to break it. No matter how hard you tried, the quiet lingered, making the moment even more agonizing.

He extended his arm, offering you a hand to hoist you up from the grass, which you took gladly. His fingers squeezed yours and you felt like a tiny child again, overwhelmed by the size of his hand compared to yours. His warm grip was like a reminder of the safe comfort you felt when you held your father's hand as a child.

"You didn't have to come," you uttered the words silently, in the belief that your words wouldn't reach his ears, as he took your hand and led you away through the drunken crowd and into the silent depths of the woods, but he did indeed hear your words, despite the chaos around him.

"So, you're telling me that you want me to leave you here, all by yourself," he questioned as you ventured into the forest towards the spot where the parking lot was located, where his car was parked.

"No," you answered far too quickly, your cheeks becoming flushed with embarrassment. However, out of all the possible outcomes of your response, his genuine chuckle was something you had never expected in a million years. It was a sound that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, anything was possible.

Tugging at his hand, still clasped firmly in yours, both of you came to a stop in the middle of the moonlit darkness. His face was illuminated in the faint light, allowing you to see his features clearly.

"So you're not angry with me?"

"Oh, I'm bloody furious, birdie," he stated as you let go of his hand, heart pounding as you watched his eerily relaxed face, "you could've been in serious danger."

"No terrorists showed up," you replied, stepping towards him.

"That boy wasn't a terrorist but still a danger to you," Price stood resolutely, never once averting his gaze from yours, "my job is to protect you from any potential danger, to guard your body with everything I have. And I take my job fuckin' seriously."

With every word he said, heat raised in your body, the feeling spreading through your limbs like wildfire. You felt like you were melting into the moment, desire growing with each passing second. His voice was like a velvet caress, sending shivers down your spine as he spoke. You felt yourself leaning closer, wanting to be enveloped in his embrace.

His eyes, so deep yet light and warm, seemed to peer into your soul as he finished his sentence. You could feel the intensity that radiated from him. The longer you looked at him, the more alive he seemed to become, the more you felt a connection to him that seemed to defy all logic. You wondered what it would be like to touch those cheekbones, to trace the lines of his beard, feel the softness of his lips on yours.

The next thing you knew, your lips were tenderly pressed against his. Lasting only a second, you pulled away before Price managed to react.

I'm sorry," you whispered, your cheeks feeling as if they were on fire.

"You're drunk," he mumbled.

"Not enough to not remember this tomorrow," you replied promptly.

A moment of silence indulged both of you like an invisible force, slowly drawing you closer. You both felt a connection that could not be denied, and the silence was suddenly broken by the sound of your beating hearts.

He looked into your eyes, his own reflecting the passion you felt inside. His hands moved to cradle your face, and his lips met yours again. This time, he took control of the kiss. His lips moved against yours, exploring, tasting and savoring each moment. His hands moved to the small of your back, drawing you closer and deepening the connection between the two of you.

The kiss was passionate, intense, and unlike anything you'd ever felt before. You could feel the emotion radiating between you, swelling in the air like a tangible force.

He kissed you deeply, his beard scratching your upper lip as he sucked your lower lip between his. It was soft after all, well taken for. You felt your back press against the rough surface of a tree trunk, and his hands caressing your body, only fueling the fire in the pit of your stomach.

Hoisting one leg on his hip, you felt his bulge pressing against your crotch, right where you desired him the most, igniting a passionate heat between your bodies.

"Price," you moaned as he grounded his hips into yours.

"It's John," he mumbled between the kisses, the delightful roughness of his beard making its path down your throat.

Your head fell back, feeling the coarse bark of the tree behind you. You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, feeling the cool breeze rush past you. Pressing your chest into John's, his hand moved from your knee to your inner thigh, squeezing it harshly as if he was trying to make his presence known...as if he was making sure this wasn't just a dream.

A desperate moan escaped your throat as his palm pressed against your core, feeling your wetness as his palm pressed against your throbbing clit. His other hand slowly moved on your body, tracing your curves as he reached your chest. His fingers found your breasts, squeezing them over your shirt and sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

John's lips connected with yours once again. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting and teasing you with each movement while his hand palmed you through your panties. You felt yourself growing closer to the edge already, releasing months of pent-up desire.

"Gonna have a taste," John groaned loudly as you ground your crotch against his palm shamelessly, "you comfortable with going higher?"

"What?" you exhaled slowly, your brows furrowing in confusion.

Without warning, his hands suddenly grabbed your hips and he took a step back, almost as if he had planned it. Your legs automatically locked around his head as he hefted you onto his shoulders, his arms outstretched to secure you in the position he desired.

You squealed and tightly gripped his hair as the first thing that came under your palm. You looked down, meeting John's eyes in the moonlight as he stared up at you with an amused and indulgent smile. This was actually the first time you’d seen him smile so much, radiating a warmth that was quite unfamiliar.

"You find this amusing?" you chuckle heartily.

“Well, you should see your face, love,” he looked at you, his hands tight around your thighs.

"Why did you even do it?" your hands gradually released their firm grasp on his hair as you steadied yourself against the tree so as to avoid falling.

"So I can do this," John answered and broke the eye contact, hooking your skirt on your hips.

His presence enveloped you and you could feel his breath on your aroused body. You felt a wave of pleasure wash over you as he gently caressed your inner thighs, kissing the inside of your thighs, feeling the delightful scratch of his beard between your legs. Not wasting a second, he moved your soaked panties to the side and pressed his tongue flat against your core, melting you into him as his tongue circled your clit before sucking it in.

Moans of pleasure escaped your open lips as you let your bodyguard devour you like a man starved, his tongue thrusting inside you deeper than you could have ever imagined as his hands moved to knead the soft flesh of your breast hidden underneath your bra.

"Fuck, I approve of this," feeling the overwhelming ecstasy fill your body, you did everything you could to remain balanced enough not to fall even though you were certain John wouldn't allow that to happen.

"I knew you'd taste like bloody heaven," he murmured as the sound of John lapping on your wetness blatantly filled the quiet night.

Anyone could be walking in your direction any time on their way to the parking lot and see the shocking, scandalous image of the prime minister's daughter getting her pussy eaten like a five-star gourmet meal by her own personal bodyguard, whose head was currently buried deep between her legs.

"Keep goin'" you moaned in blissful euphoria, desperately pushing your hips into his face and locking his head between your legs as if you were afraid he was about to escape from you.

He groaned into your clit, sending vibrations straight to your core, only adding more pleasure to your already overheating body. His fingers plunged into you at a merciless speed, curling slightly upwards to search for that one spot he was determined to locate. A delightful knot tightened into your stomach as John brought you to the brink of ecstasy, and with one final thrust of his calloused fingers, you were swept away in a sea of unimaginable pleasure.

He kissed you on the clit one last time before pulling away and descending you down to the ground again with expertise while you were still drunk in his fingers, legs buckling before finding your footing again.

"John," you exhaled, flushed with desire as your hand extended to his painfully hard erection, still hidden underneath the dress pants he was wearing. He gripped your wrist, stopping your actions. Your eyes lost themselves in his, seeing how fueled by desire this man was, while John traced his fingers along your lips, painting them with your own juices before pushing them inside, watching as you sucked at his fingers, feeling the swirling of your tongue making him groan.

"Knew you'd be a good girl for me," he watched you clean his fingers for a brief moment before pressing his lips to yours.

"Do you want me," he asked between the kisses, his voice full of longing and passion.

"Yes," you replied instantly, hands finally sneaking to his pants as you brought him closer to your body, indulging yourself in his presence, in his sandalwood smell as you fumbled with his belt and zipper before palming his erection while keeping your lips locked together.

His breathing became labored as his hips started to thrust against your hand, making you smile as you felt his pleasure. You kept up the rhythm, your hand moving alongside the outline of his cock and sneaking into his underwear, spreading his leaking precum to lubricate his head. John groaned in pleasure as you took your time, exploring and teasing him until he could take no more.

"Condoms?" his breath fanned over your face as his eyes met yours.

"IUD," you kissed the corner of his mouth while he rutted against your palm. His breath came in short, shallow bursts as your touch electrified his body and sent waves of pleasure radiating through him.

Taking off your panties, your legs wrapped around his waist, locking at your ankles as you watched John stuff your underwear in his pocket. You angled your hips to meet his eager cock, pressing your body firmly against his as you kissed the side of his neck. His hands moved to take off your shirt, exposing your burning skin to the cold air and causing goosebumps to raise on your soft flesh. Your bra didn't last too long after that, and you were soon left wearing only your skirt, hooked around your hips. John's lips latched onto your nipples as he pushed his pants down, the head of his cock nudging your entrance and making you gasp softly as you were filled with anticipation.

His tongue circled your erected nipple as he pushed his cock inside you. Arching your back, you pushed your chest into his face. His hand sneaked between you and the tree trunk, fingertips tracing the natural curve of your spine.

"Fuck, love, the things you do to me," John said as he licked at your skin before blowing cold air onto the wet spots, elaborating on your ecstasy while thrusting slowly but deep inside your gummy walls, building up his pace steadily.

"Oh my God," your legs quivered as John continued his lustful assault on your chest, leaving you marked and radiating with blissful pleasure.

It didn't take very long for you to whisper the word "Faster" into his ear, and he happily obliged, increasing the speed and intensity of his thrusts. John's hips rocked rhythmically against yours as he found the perfect spot inside you that sent waves of pleasure surging through your entire body.

The shameful sound of skin slapping skin, and your wetness being filled with someone's cock, reverberated in your ears. John's hand made its way to your throat, his thumb caressing the front of it before he squeezed your jawline, bringing your face toward his for another kiss. His thrusts became more violent, and you could feel your walls squeezing him delightfully with each rough plunge.

“M’close,” you murmured softly into the kiss, feeling your back heat up as the rough bark of the tree pressed against it, the scratching and pain intensifying the pleasure that was coursing through you.

“C'mon, want you to cum around my cock,” he whispered against your lips, his thumb caressing your jaw as his other hand moved from your thigh to your throbbing clit, teasing and tantalizing the sensitive bud to bring you to the edge of pleasure.

You turned your head, your mouth enveloping his thumb as you began to suck and swirl your tongue around its tip. When your eyes locked with his, his body shuddered in response and he felt the pleasure of the moment coursing through his veins. John became was unable to break the gaze as you continued to play with his finger with your tongue, the sensations overwhelming his body.

His thrusts became sloppy and uncontrolled as he neared his climax.

"Cum for me, love," he whispered seductively in your ear, making your body quiver and moan with pleasure as his thrusts became increasingly passionate. As you reached the brink of orgasm, you felt his cock swell inside you and you clenched around him tightly, sending waves of delight through both of you as you finally came undone.

"That's it," John grunted against your skin, his tongue toying with your nipples again. A few powerful thrusts later, John was grunting and biting into your skin, sure to leave marks, as he finished inside you, staying still as he savored the moment - the feel of both your juices mixing together inside your pulsating velvety walls before slowly making its way out of you, drenching your thighs.

You panted heavily and leaned your head against the tree, your hands still firmly pressed against John's shoulders as he effortlessly held you close to his sweat-soaked body. As he slowly pulled out of you, a soft whimper escaped your lips at the sudden empty feeling. He hold you by your waist while his eyes followed the trail of cum going down your legs.

Taking your panties out of his pocket, he knelt on one knee before you and used them as a wipe to clean your hypersensitive core and the trail leading to the ground.

One final kiss later, John pulled up his pants, stuffed your cum-stained panties back into his pocket and deftly fixed his shirt before helping you dress on your shaking knees.

“You good, birdie?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, fixing your bra and tucking your shirt into your skirt while running your fingers through your hair to make it look less like you had just been ravished against a tree by your own bodyguard.

"We should go before someone sees us," John stated, looking in the direction you came from.

A genuine laugh left your lips, "now you're worried someone might see us?"

"You're funny, birdie," with a smile, he offered his hand to lead the way before falling slightly behind you and becoming your silent, stoic shadow once again.

“Can you walk all the way back," he asked as he observed you stumble slightly.

"Don’t flatter yourself, Price, doesn't suit you” you laughed it off as you continued walking towards the parking lot, your bodyguard trailing after you, a chuckle escaping him. His muscular form soon appeared next to you, and his arm slung around your waist to help steady you after you stumbled a few more times.

#captain price #john price #captain price x reader #john price x reader #captain price smut #john price smut #captain john price #captain john price x reader #cod #callofduty #codmwii #callofdutymodernwarfare2 #callofdutymodernwarfare #smut #moni writes #codmw

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vee-beeee · 3 months

Text

Laser Tag

HELLOOO

I have so many ideas and so little motivation LOL but im here with a cute story

premise: you do laser tag with your kickass android boyfriends

Warnings: CUTE, fake violence, cursing maybe, bullying of tween boys mayhaps, but its because they were rude, name calling, kissing, you shoot people with lasers so a lot of that language, spelling errors probably, slice of life

Connor, Nines and Sixty x reader

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"Were really doing this" Nines sighed out, shutting the car door with a harsh click.

"Yes indeed" you spoke up, excitedly jumping out of the vehicle and giving a smiling Connor a small thank you for holding the door open. "You agreed to itttt" you sung out, bumping into the tall android, who rolled his eyes with a smirk tugging on his lips.

"Its gonna be fun" Sixty called as he came up behind you, clapping Nines on the back, which sent the surprised droid forward a few steps. Nines looked up and sent a death glare in the smug androids direction, who just shrugged and put his hands in his coat pockets.

Your group was currently in a damp parking lot downtown, under a rainy sky, making your way to the thrilling new date idea you had come up with recently.

Laser Tag

"I have been increasingly interested in this activity ever since you brought it up a 2 weeks ago my dear" Connor turned to you as he spoke, gently taking your hand in his and continuing on, not noticing how the action made your ears and cheeks red. You chuckled in acknowledgement to his comment and nuzzled deeper into your big puffy jacket (that you totally had stolen from Nines, not that he minded) and your group continued on to the main building.

Walking in, you noticed the whole building was themed like a medieval castle. It had tall spires and walls made to look like an old brick structure, and there were decorations of large colored flags, along with laser tag posters.

"This is impressive for a children's play place." Nines announced, also eying the interesting architecture. You smiled at his words, and continued on to the front desk, with Connor trailing right beside you. You appreciated him coming with you, he always did ever since you confessed that you weren't exactly the best in social situations. You got really nervous and choked up, which made everything awkward. He was very kind and understanding when he heard this, vowing to help you when he could.

You put on your nicest tone and greeted the employee. He stopped typing, and deeply sighed before addressing you.

"Welcome to the Zap Zone, how can I help you." he drawled, eyeing you and Connor with a wary look. He paused upon noticing Connors LED, which was peeking out from under his beanie, before looking down and seeing your held hands. The man looked back at the pair of you with a raised brow.

You pretended not to notice the employee's judgmental look, but it did give you pause. Your thoughts started to psych you out, before you felt a supportive squeeze to your hand in an attempt to calm you. Your emotional support Connor was reminding you that he was there to help. You cleared your throat before continuing.

"We have reservations for 4 people and 1 game? It should be under the name "Connor Anderson" rocking back and forth, you watched the man expectantly as he started typing on his computer. He then clicked on something, before reaching under his desk and bringing out a hand full of colored cards.

"You guys will play in the purple game. It starts in 10 minutes, and lasts 30" he explained, handing you the cards. "Did you sign the wavier online?" you nodded and he seemed to let out a relieved breath, grumbling something about the forms taking forever.

With the interaction coming to an end, you and Connor turned away from the desk, and you handed him his card. He slid it into his pocket, and pecked your forehead with a smooch as he did so. You giggled at the ticklish kiss, and noticed Sixty and Nines walking up to you two.

"We found lockers, you can put your bag in there. But watch out, there's some tweens stalking the area" Sixty explained scrunching up his nose before turning around to look behind his back and towards an arched doorway.

"Copy that" you winked, before stuffing some items into your bag and organizing the contents inside. You heard a scoff as you felt someone look over your shoulder and into your bag. You quickly shut it, before turning around to face a certain android.

"Its so unorganized" Nines sighed out, rolling his eyes as you playfully gasped, holding a hand to your chest. "I have a system!" you laughed out, shoving his shoulder while he smirked.

You walked past a giggling Sixty on your way to the locker, giving him a quick shove too. You started into a breathless jog when you heard him shout "hey!" but you were already gone and laughing,

After putting your stuff in a locker, and seemingly avoiding the teen boys, you came back to the main area and saw your boys sitting on a couch in the corner. They were conversing amongst themselves, before stopping when they saw your approach.

"Whatcha guys talking about?" you sighed out, plopping down on the old couch beside Sixty, who wrapped an arm around your shoulder the second you were settled.

"Game plans. I think we should go for the high ground" Connor grinned, looking like he was enjoying making up the plan. You nodded your head at the idea, looking up to the celling and squinting your eyes, trying to think of a strategy also.

The speakers suddenly blared through out the building, and you jumped in Sixty's hold. He rubbed your shoulder as you settled down, and you felt a little embarrassed for getting startled so easily. He just chuckled.

"Purple group, you start in 4 minutes, come to the counter to register code names" the tired employee from before spoke into the speaker, before it clicked off with another loud beep.

"Codenames?" Nines questioned, getting up from the couch and adjusting his clothes. You bounced out of Sixty's grip and stood up, basically vibrating from how excited you were.

"Codenames! You get to choose a cool name for yourself." you explained, before walking with the group to stand in line to register.

"Ill just be Nines, or RK900" Nines annouced, rolling his shoulders.

"Are you cosplaying as a boring person?" you frowned, punching his arm lightly. "You have to be something fun! Like....." you put your head down in concentration trying to think of names for Nines.

And then it dawned on you.

The perfect name

When you finally got to the counter, you were giggling and could barely speak. Connor went first.

"Ill be RoboCop" he announced, looking at you in approval. You laughed and gave him a thumbs up, and he beamed at you.

"Ill be 69" Sixty said, smiling at the employee, who gave him a dead stare before typing into the computer without looking.

"Im....." Nines looked at you with questioning eyes, and you gently whispered to him the name you thought up, before turning back to the employee.

"Terminator" Nines said simply, looking down to adjust his tie as he spoke.

The employee finally looked to you and you said confidently and loudly for everyone to hear, "beep boop"

The employee looked at you for a second before whispering a long "okay" and typing your name in.

You looked at the boys, who seemed very unimpressed.

"It took you 5 minutes for "beep boop" Sixty questioned, crossing his arms over his chest and giving you a playful glare.

"Okay mister 69" you laughed out, shoving the android while he laughed with you.

Soon you were all being led into a dark room, with instructions and rules being read to you by a more expressive employee. You found out that if you got shot you wouldn't be permanently out, you just lost points. And you earned points for lasering someone. While you were listening, you turned to watch the boys all focused intently on the speaker, and you could see their LEDS changing color in the dark.

Eventually, you were walking down a flight of stairs and into a room that smelt like sweaty people. You found your pack, which was a vest with lights on the shoulder and chest, and slipped it on with Connor helping you clip it into place.

And then it begun.

You had 5 minutes to find a hiding place, and then the game started.

The droids had all promised that they wouldn't use their special abilities for this game, so you were all going in blind.

And it was a trip.

The space was a huge arena with hundreds of walls. There were mirrors on basically every surface, and thick smoke was rolling in, giving everything a hazy appearance and making it hard to see.

"Guys go right!" You heard Sixty yell from behind. Your group shuffled to the right, until you stumbled upon a staircase. You called for the group, and you all eventually found the top of the arena.

"Keep low" Connor whispered, crouching on your right. You said a quiet conformation, before your pack started to audibly count down, signaling the game would start soon. You turned to see Sixty blocking the entrance of the top area, acting like a guard, and Nines settled in on your left.

Finally, the pack finished the count down.

And you were off.

The boys from before instantly started screaming from below, and you looked to see them running in the maze.

And you unleashed hell.

You all fired from above, and the boys screamed louder as the continually got hit by your party. You broke into giggles when they retreated, and reached for a double high five with Connor and Nines. Nines just stared at your hand, and Connor actually high fived you.

A half-win.

You stayed up in the canopy for a good 10 minutes, maintaining your position. You got shot a couple times from below, but you were trying not to worry about the points. You were doing pretty good!

Until the tweens banned together.

You heard Sixty yell something, and you turned just in time to see him get shot a couple times. He groaned as he watched his points go down on the screen of his pack.

You let out a small scream-gasp thing and turned to run for the other exit on the level just as an army of 12-year old's stormed in.

You went down a few levels of the arena before you realized something.

You were not being followed.

Now you were totally alone, with no idea where your boybots had gone.

With no way of finding the boys currently, you wandered around a bit. Soon you were lost in the hazy maze of smoke and neon, occasionally shooting someone.

No sign of your team.

Until you heard someone yelling.

"BEEP BOOP WHERE ARE YOU"

You wheezed so hard and unexpectedly, gripping your stomach, and folding over yourself in a fit of giggles. You heard feet thundering in your direction, and someone tapped your shoulder making you look up and see Sixty breathlessly gazing at you. He nodded his head to a secluded corner, and you gave him a thumbs up while trying to calm yourself.

As you rounded it, you witnessed something great.

Nines was lying on the ground, a level below you and Sixty, firing at some tween boys. His face was fully serious, like he was on a personal mission. When the group started to run he got up, standing at his full height, and broke into a sprint after them as they screamed in terror.

"He said he'll meet us over there" Sixty leaned over and pointed to the opposite side of the arena, towards one of the spires.

"I don't know if he will, he seemed to be fully concentrated in his mission down there." You giggled, looking up at the android. You (accidently) took notice of his cute, messy hair and saw his mechanical body was breathing hard.

You looked down slightly at his lips, just out of curiosity, and they curved into a smirk as he noticed what you were doing.

"Are you guys seriously going to make-out in a family friendly laser tag establishment?" a voice cut in.

You playfully shoved Sixty away while he grumbled in disappointment, and you turned to face an unimpressed Connor.

"Nuh-uh" was all that came from you. You crossed you arms to add an emphasize on your words, but that just made Connor smile fondly.

"Sure"

So now you, Connor and Sixty were running through the arena, ducking behind walls and using the thick smoke to your advantage.

When you got to the spire, there was still no sign of Nines, and only 10 minutes left in the game.

So you all went solo.

Your remaining boyfriends came up with a codeword to use if anyone was in danger, and to make sure you didn't accidently shoot each other.

It was something very meaningful, poetic, and totally encapsulated your experience.

"pineapple"

And so, it was decided.

The plan was to find Nines, and regroup in the same spot after 3 minutes.

So you all split up once again.

As you were roaming the area, you heard the tween boys once again.

So following the voices, you found who you were looking for.

He was lying on the ground once again in a sniper position, shooting at the group.

You went up and lied down next to him, kissing his cheek. The android rumbled and turned to look at you.

"Why are you harrassing a group of children?" you asked, chuckling a little to yourself.

"They called me and Sixty "idiots" earlier" he spoke, stopping to look at you with a smirk. "They also called you a bimbo when they thought we were far away enough" he whispered, kissing your forehead.

"Ohhhhh, continue blasting then" was all you said, looking down at the boys as they yelled "gross" to you and Nines. Smirking, you nodded your head to the boys.

He smiled.

And grabbed the back of your head, pulling you in for a deep, over- exaggerated kiss.

You heard the voices grow louder from below, with the boys yelling in disgust at your smackeroo.

Parting for air, you both broke out in quiet laughter.

Finally you guys got up and wiped the grime of the floor from your clothes, Nines proceeding to say he needed to change when you got home.

Making your way back to the designated meeting place, you found Sixty and Connor fighting off some fellow adults who were also enjoying the childlike wonder of laser tag.

You yelled out a battle cry, screaming "PINEAPPLE" and joined the fight, ducking behind a wall to strike from slightly above. Overwhelming the pair, who pulled away in the end.

When you were in the clear, you turned to the androids, smiling and proudly pointing in Nines direction

"Found him"

Then the lights on all your packs went off, and that meant the game was over. You made to high five everyone, which surprisingly everyone accepted, and your group shuffled to the exit.

Outside the arena, the light from outside was like a flash bang. You winced and covered your eyes, groaning in pain.

"Aww toughn up" Sixty punched your arm, making you deliver him a dirty look.

Finally, it was time to see the scores.

"In first place.......Terminator" you read out, gasping as you turned to Nines. He just smirked and adjusted his tie, slightly glancing at the group of kids staring at him with anger.

In the end, Connor got in 3rd, Sixty got 4th, and you got.....

17th

but you had fun!

You all left in good spirits, with you regaling Connor and Sixty of what happened while you were looking for Nines.

A good day you think

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UGHH I HOPE THIS IS GOOD

guys i seriously had such a heard time coming up with a codename for the reader so im sorry it sucks LOL

i hope its in character to LOL

sorry for spelling errors, i was excited about this one and wanted to get it out soon

hope you enjoyed!

#dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #dbh rk800 #detroit become human #dbh nines #dbh rk900 #dbh rk900 x reader #dbh sixty #dbh sixty x reader

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fablesrose · 1 month

Text

Ch 12 - The Lost Heir Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: The con this week takes a couple turns as they try to steal a rich man's inheritance from his lawyer and give it to the charity he requested before he passed away. The client's lawyer is an interesting character as well.

Words: 4989

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Nate didn’t tell anyone, but I knew that he went to see Sophie, despite his insistence of leaving her alone on the last job. I wasn’t sure if she would show up, so I left Nate to meet the client on his own, just in case she did. What I didn’t expect was that our client would bring an attorney and that she would want to know what was going on all of the time or else we didn’t have a client at all.

“I hate this,” Eliot said when Nate explained the situation.

“You do not let Vicki Vale into the Batcave, ever,” Hardison said. I would have to refresh my memory on that reference, but I got the jist that he didn’t like the situation either.

“First, this is my home, not a cave,” Nate replied. “Second, we’re not gonna allow her up here.”

“Sophie would never approve,” Parker said forcefully. “Call her.”

“We can’t just keep calling Sophie.”

“Okay, I see how it is,” Hardison said. “We can’t call her, but you can go off and have a little secret meeting with her.”

I should have known Hardison would already know about it.

“What are you talking about? I was in Harrisburg, researching a client,” Nate defended.

“Wow, cause you know what?” Hardison put some evidence on the screen behind Nate, “your passport got dinged going through Heathrow Airport yesterday. Heathrow’s in London. I guess you couldn’t get a direct flight to Harrisburg.”

“Well it’s hard when you do the same day booking,” Eliot pointed out.

Hardison stuttered a bit in response to Eliot before getting back to his point, “Did you realize that London is the home of the most security cameras in the world?”

“Really?” Parker said, feigning interest.

“Who feels like playing Where’s Waldo?” Hardison asked. “I do.”

Parker raised her hand with an ‘Oh!’

“Do you think he wore his trenchcoat to be inconspicuous?” I asked.

“Damn girl, it’s like you already knew,” Hardison praised as he showed a picture after picture of Nate, in his trenchcoat. “Waldo Ford. Oh, is that Big Ben? And you?”

We all smiled at each other as Hardison continued to milk it.

“Wow, you got twins and triplets everywhere.” Hardison became more serious, “and lookie there, 11:18 am standing outside of Sophie’s apartment looking quite pensive.”

“Aw, he’s rehearsing what he’s gonna say,” Parker said. “I’ve seen him do that.”

“Alright, alright guys. Okay, you caught me,” Nate conceded. “I went to London. Yeah. I saw Sophie.” He paused, looking at each of us individually. “And she’s not coming back.”

My heart sank. I had already assumed this to be the case since she wasn’t here, but him saying it outloud really hit it home. She wasn’t coming back.

Parker shook her head, “Not now, or not ever?”

“I, uh, don’t know,” Nate said. “An, uh, I don’t think she does either. So, uh, that’s that.”

There was a moment of silence as we all contemplated what that might mean.

“Could you please take the…” Nate gestured at the screens behind him with the surveillance photos of him. “Thank you,” he said once they were gone, “Can we get back to work?” Nate stood, moving the stool he was sitting on out of the way. He took a business card out of his pocket, “This… Tara Carlisle. Hardison, maybe you could just do a background check on her and if everything pans out, I don’t see why we can’t have an outsider just this once tag along. Hm?”

I couldn’t help but make a comparison, “I mean, I don’t think it’d be much different than having me around. Especially in the beginning…”

Nobody answered or added to my thought, but I did notice some clenched jaws and subtle head movements, as if weighing the odds.

“Ok, why don’t you run it for ‘em,” Nate told Hardison.

Hardison started his slide show, “Meet the late, great Bennett Kimball. He made his fortune the old-fashioned way: polluting, union busting, employing sweatshop labor. His personal life was even worse. Drunken driving accidents, chasing women, paying off the mob.

“Why haven’t we ever heard of this guy?” Parker asked.

“Because to the rest of the world,” Nate answered, “Bennett Kimball was a pillar of Boston society. Thanks to one very hard working lawyer.”

“Meet his longtime attorney, Peter Blanchard,” Hardison said, showing his picture on the screen. “This is an interesting guy. He’s a blue blood Harvard Law Graduate who turned into Kimball’s personal janitor. Dude would pay off the cops, pay hush money, God knows what else.”

“And he was rewarded by being named the executor and sole beneficiary of Kimball’s estate,” Nate added.

“Lovely,” I commented sarcastically, “So he’s invested, to say the least.”

“Mmhm,” Hardison agreed. “See, Kimball didn’t have any kids. He had a couple of ex-wives way, way back, but Blanchard is the closest thing he has to family.”

“Well, I guess this Blanchard guy didn’t count on his client having such a giving side,” Eliot said.

“Funny how that works,” Nate replied, standing up. “What happens to rich people when they know the end is near… It’s really, really amazing. Okay, I don’t know that we have a legal angle to play on this one, because in three days, he is going to present the will in probate court and assume control of the estate.”

“And our client’s charity gets nothing,” Parker said.

“Now, Blanchard was the keeper of Kimball’s secrets so…” Nate continued, “Yeah, so that’s our way in, right there.”

“You want a skeleton from his closet,” Parker deduced, a bit excited.

“Absolutely,” Nate agreed, “and there’s gotta be tons of skeletons. I mean, we want something so scary that the mere mention of it makes this guy run for his checkbook. So, uh, if that weren’t hard enough, we’ve got the chaperone to think about.” Nate clapped his hands a bit awkwardly at the task we had a head, and then took his exit.

“Tara Carlisle,” Hardison said to us. He, Nate, Eliot, and I stood outside of a prison, waiting for the attorney to arrive. “She checks out. Civil rights lawyer, does a lot of pro bono work. Collects lost causes like kittens.”

She pulled up in a low profile sudan, practical.

“Well, she’s honest,” Eliot commented.

“Crusader, incorruptible,” Hardison said as she stepped out of her car. She wore heels and a pencil skirt, professional, but still flattering along with her blond half updo and glasses. Hardison seemed to notice as he added, “And one sexy librarian.”

I looked over at him and Eliot with a raised eyebrow, but they kept their gaze on her. I rolled my eyes as I returned my gaze to the newcomer.

Nate waved and walked to stand beside her, “Hey guys, I’d like you to meet Tara Carlisle. She’s our client’s attorney. She’s gonna be joining us today.”

“I’m here because I believe we share a common goal,” she said as she shook our hands. “I just want to make sure it’s done the right way.” She turned to Nate, “Now, you said you had something we could use against Blanchard?”

Nate nodded, signaling for Hardison to explain.

“Okay, well behind these prison walls, or, um, prison shrubs,” Hardison started, pointing at the low security prison, “is Kimball’s former business partner, PJ Orson. He’s doing ten years for embezzlement. Kimball’s company paid $50,000 to a company called Lamond Holdings back in 1980.” Hardison was about to continue when he zeroed into Tara dutifully taking notes in a little note pad.

“That?” Nate asked. “Yeah, she does that. It’s okay, go ahead.”

Hardison continued, “Well, Lamond Holdings is a Vegas front company for the mob.”

“Yeah, $50,000 used to be the going rate for a contract killer in those days,” Eliot clarified helpfully.

“I’m not gonna ask how you know that,” I said before I could stop myself, since I had an idea.

“Good, cuz you don’t want to know.”

“Fair enough.”

“You think Kimball paid to have somebody killed?” Tara asked.

I didn’t have to look at Eliot or Hardison to know that we all made a little bit of a face at the question.

“Okay,” Nate took the attention to himself, “now what we’re gonna do right now is we’re going to go undercover.”

“Well, why don’t we go talk to Mr. Orson?” Tara asked.

Hardison and Eliot laughed.

“No. The best lie is the truth Mr. Ford,” she said resolutely. “I think if we go in there, and plead our case, Mr. Orson will wanna talk to us.”

She had so much confidence walking into that prison with Nate and I behind her, even up to explaining the situation to Orson. Until he laughed in her face.

Nate and I glanced at each other with a knowing look. Eliot and Hardison were getting ready for undercover anyway. It looked like we would need them after all, crazy.

Orson explained to Tara how he was living a very comfortable life in the prison. He didn’t need his sentence reduced, he didn’t need any deals.

Once Orson left, Nate told Hardison and Eliot to put the squeeze on him and for Parker to case Blanchard’s office. Nate then turned to us, “Why don’t you two come with me. I’m about to become a really terrible lawyer. You can watch.” He then turned to exit the prison.

I waited for Tara to gather her things, walking alongside her, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fun.”

She gave me a skeptical look.

I reached my hand out to shake again, “I’m Y/n, Y/n Ford.”

She shook it cautiously this time, “Daughter?”

I shook my head, “Niece, but he raised me after my parents passed.” She let out a quiet, ‘ah,’ but before she could provide condolences as I could see she was about to, I spoke again. “So, I have to deal with his bullshit all the time, trust me, you’ll enjoy yourself at least a little bit.”

The three of us headed over to the courthouse after Nate changed into an… interesting suit to say the least. It was a three piece suit, everything was powder blue except for his tie, which was orange. It was clear–he was there to make a statement.

“Look, Blanchard’s here at the same time as you are. That’s a coincidence,” Tara said excitedly as she spotted Blanchard in the hallway.

“No, it’s not,” Nate said, “we hacked into his online appointment schedule.” He quickly corrected himself, “I mean, yes, what a coincidence.” He waved a hand at us, “why don’t you wait for me outside?”

“What are you going to do?” Tara asked.

Nate stumbled over his words trying to say what he was doing somewhat discreetly, “uh, make an appointment with… You’ll see.” Nate then walked ahead of us, past Blanchard, to a judge’s door.

I stepped slightly in front of Tara, facing her as if to have a conversation, “You can watch over my shoulder, make it a bit less suspicious.”

She nodded, tilting her head curiously as she did as I told her. I in turn listened as Nate knocked on the door.

“Hi there. Listen, Jimmy Popodokolos, Las Vegas, attorney at law. I’m here to talk to the judge about the Kimball probate hearing.” He then obnoxiously kept throwing in filler words and “very important”s as the secretary tried to put him down for an appointment.

“Oh, can you see Blanchard? He must be peeved,” I asked Tara.

She hesitated, “Well, he’s facing away from me…”

“Come on, you’re a lawyer, don’t you know body language?” I didn’t wait for her answer before stretching a bit, peeking towards Blanchard in the process. “Yeah, he looks tense, this’ll be good.”

Once Nate was done talking to the judge he came walking back towards us. Tara and I quickly fell into step with him as we exited the court house.

“I think we should go back to the prison, something tells me Orson is gonna talk to us,” Nate said, stepping into the car.

I laughed to myself a bit, knowing that Eliot and Hardison must have been successful in scaring the crap out of him. They were posing as guards within the prison and were stirring up trouble for Orson. The very real threat of getting him transferred to maximum security prison was looming over his head.

Tara was confused, but Nate refused to elaborate.

“Who are you guys? Feds, playing hardball?” Orson asked once Tara picked up the phone again.

“I’m sorry, what are you…?” she said.

“Listen, the payment to Lamond Holdings was made to someone named George Gilbert.”

“Who is George Gilbert?”

“I don’t know. Blanchard said to keep it to ourselves because the mob was involved. That’s all I know, I swear. I don’t want to die in a prison riot. Please, call off your dogs.” The guard then came and told him that time was up, so he left the visiting area.

“Alright, so Blanchard paid the mob $50,000 to kill someone named George Gilbert for Kimball,” Nate said. “Well, this should be an interesting meeting.” Nate then swiftly exited the room, Tara and I close behind. She was substantially more confused than before.

Nate went to meet with Blanchard with this new found information to try and blackmail him a bit and buy enough time for Parker to break into Blanchard’s safe in his office. I went back to my apartment and changed into some comfier clothes and made myself a snack. I should have been excited to have another “outsider” around, to be able to share what I’ve discovered with someone else. But for some reason, it made me a bit anxious hanging around her. Like something wasn’t right. I tried to shake it off, it wouldn’t be the first time anxiety built up for no reason. Having a minute to myself in my apartment helped, I was able to decompress away from people for a little while.

That was until Eliot knocked. When I opened my door, I didn’t fail to catch the quick look over he did and the slight tilt of his head. I took a second myself to admire how the long sleeves of his white undershirt were pushed up to his elbows before locking my eyes with his.

“We need you over here again. There’s been a change of plans,” he stepped away from the door, letting me step out after him.

I rolled my eyes as I pulled the door shut behind me, “when isn’t there.”

“Touche.”

Eliot gave me a quick run down as we crossed the hall and entered Nate’s apartment. It wasn’t a mob hit that Blanchard paid for. It was a stripper, a pay off to make her disappear. Nate then claimed that Parker was Kimball’s child from that stripper.

Parker was complaining when we sat down that she was one digit away from cracking the safe.

“Yeah, no. This is much, much better than the safe,” Nate assured.

“I got everything on Georgia Gilbert, and I mean everything,” Hardison said. He relayed her birthdate, education, medical tidbits, including that she was colorblind, and even her shoe and dress size, heaven forbid. “And how in the world did you know that she was pregnant?”

“Wait, she was pregnant?” Parker asked.

“Yeah, gave the baby up for adoption.”

“What happened to Georgia?”

“She died in 1985. Cancer.”

My face scrunched up in sympathy. That must have been rough.

“Tough draw,” Eliot said.

“Well, it wasn’t really a guess,” Nate said, bringing us back to Hardison’s question. “I mean, for decades Kimball, he had a lot of women on the side, avoided a lot of scandal, right? So what made him decide to marry Georgia Gilbert over all those women?”

“Blanchard paid her off and Kimball thought she ran out on him,” Eliot said.

“Now, how did you know that baby was a girl?” Hardison asked.

“Oh, oh yeah… That- that was a guess,” Nate admitted.

Eliot and I chuckled a bit. The luck of this man…

“But, that’s a fifty-fifty deal.”

“Why don’t we find the real daughter?” I asked.

“Adoption records are sealed, paper only,” Hardison replied. “I have a reference number, but nobody can see inside. All this is good, until Blanchard wants a DNA test. I gotta say, even with my bag of tricks, I can’t rewrite Parker’s genetic code.”

“That’s quitter talk,” I said simply.

“You know what-”

“Yeah, so we just have to convince him that asking for DNA is the worst possible choice he can make,” Nate said, cutting Hardison from a retort.

“How do we do that?” Eliot asked.

“We don’t.”

Nate briefed Tara of the plan. She was to go to a meeting with Blanchard and do some reverse psychology to get him to not want a DNA test. With Hardison attaching one of Parker’s aliases to the adoption reference number, it made it look like Parker was the missing daughter. It sounded like it was pretty successful, but only time would ultimately tell.

It didn’t take long for Blanchard’s assistant to call, setting up a meeting with Nate and Parker. While it seemed like good news, I’ve been learning not to celebrate until we were truly home free.

I decided to go to the hearing both to show some moral support and just in case something went awry. I had an earbud in, listening to how the meeting was going to go on the riverfront. Eliot went along as well, just in case. It was a good thing, because not long after they arrived, I heard gunshots.

“Nate?!” I tried to whisper. Luckily the hearing hadn’t started yet, so others were chatting, but Tara heard and looked towards me with a worried expression. I waved her off, quickly and quietly exiting the courtroom. “Eliot, what’s going on?”

“Well, he was convinced alright,” Parker answered instead after the fighting noises stopped. “Good plan.”

“No, no, no, this is good,” Nate panted. “Because, I mean, you know, we get you to the hearing, he’ll cut us a check in the hallway just to keep you from getting in front of that judge. Just make sure that Parker gets to that hearing. No matter what.”

I started pacing the hallway. This wasn’t good, but hopefully salvageable.

“Hardison, give me some good news,” Nate asked after a little while.

“Oh, I’ve got some great news for ya,” he answered, somewhat sarcastically. “They just put an APB on Parker. It says she’s a late 20s Caucasian woman who shot an officer. She’s an addict and she’s armed. Trifecta.”

“Hardison, how good’s the description of her?” Eliot asked, but Hardison didn’t have to answer as I heard sirens coming through from his end.

“Pretty good,” Parker answered.

I listened to the background noises of them running and then eventually Nate took a call from Blanchard. Once he hung up he addressed us.

“Hardison, y/n, Blanchard’s headed to the courthouse. You’ve gotta delay him. Buy us some time.”

“How do you expect us to do that?” Hardison asked.

“I don’t know, use your imagination.”

“Just use my imagination…” Hardison said to himself before trailing off.

“Do you want me up there in the foyer, Hardison? Or should I stay back here, behind the security check?” I asked him. I was fumbling over what I could do to keep him from getting here.

“Uh,” He said, it sounded like he was rummaging through his pockets, “No, I think I have an idea to keep him here at the security check for a while. Stay back there to run last minute interference if necessary.”

I sighed shakily, “Okay… okay okay.”

He started talking with people in the lobby, asking for things to help, I assumed. I looked around, trying to think about what I could do to slow Blanchard down once he got here. What would Sophie do? Think of the classic tricks, the plausible movie tropes. My eyes flicked around the corridor, catching benches and people milling around. Then someone walked by with a coffee cup.

That might work.

I was impressed with how long Hardison held Blanchard up at the security check, but it wasn’t long enough, Nate was still running behind. To top it off, Parker couldn’t find a way into the courthouse since every entrance was covered by police. I didn’t manage to find any coffee, but I did find a cup and water, so it would have to do. I poured some on the ground a little ways from the courtroom, to have a little more space. I had the rest of the water in the cup, ready for some oscar worthy performances.

I watched as Blanchard turned the corner. I hyped myself up a bit, I had rough housed a little in college, played a pick up game every once in a while. I could do this. I timed it so I slipped on the water one step in front of him as I crossed the hall, not giving him time to avoid me. As I fell I took his legs out from under him and spilled the rest of my water for good measure. Unfortunately I fell a bit wrong and he fell on top of me, not quick enough to catch himself.

“Aw, shit,” I whispered to myself. That hurt. I vaguely heard Nate talking to everyone else, giving orders to tweak the plan again, but I wasn’t listening. A crowd had gathered around, helping Blanchard and I up.

He quickly apologized, but excused himself. He tried to run, but the water made the floor slippery, which significantly slowed his progress. I wanted to smile at the little victory, but I was soaking wet and my body was aching, so I just gently shook myself off before slowly following him.

I sat down next to Hardison in the back of the courtroom once I got there and he gave me tentative knuckles. I touched my fist to his with a sigh, “that went better in my head.”

“Well, you bought some time, so…” he shook his head a bit, “but maybe don’t hurt yourself next time.”

“Noted.”

Nate loudly entered the courtroom as Tara was questioning our client on the stand. After introducing himself, the judge demanded that Nate represent the missing heir immediately. Nate took a moment to gather his things and thoughts, which the judge allowed. I heard Tara scold him a bit for posing as a lawyer through his comms.

“Well, stick around. I’m about to practice medicine, too,” he retorted back softly.

I turned to Hardison, “oh, this’ll be good.” To which he nodded.

“Uh, Your Honor, I’d like to offer into evidence these documents showing a payment that Mr. Blanchard made to a Georgia Gilbert, a woman I contend bore Mr. Kimball’s child,” Nate said.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Blanchard interrupted, “Mr. Popodoklips-”

“It’s Popodokolos.”

“Pokadolokisp… Pop… Popa-”

“Popodokolos.”

“This man!” Blanchard said louder, “spun these fairy tales in my office. It’s a shakedown from a disbarred-”

“Suspended!”

“Ambulance chaser from Las Vegas!” He shouted. “And he says that he found Bennett Kimball’s daughter. So I only have one question for him,” he said much calmer. “Where is she?”

Everyone stared at each other for a moment before Nate replied, “I could produce her, Your Honor, if you just allow me to ask the witness one question. One question to the witness.”

The judge nodded, “Please.”

Nate then walked up to our client, “Miss Walton. What… color… is my tie?”

She hesitated, “I don’t know. I’m color blind.”

Nate went on to explain to the judge, and everyone else in the room, that both Bennett Kimball and Georgia Gilbert were color blind. It was extremely rare for a woman to be color blind, both parents would have to be color blind for her to have it.

“Wait…” Ruth said from the witness stand, “Are you saying that I’m Bennett Kimball’s daughter?”

“It’s no coincidence, is it, that you started a program helping foster kids get adopted?” Nate asked her. “No coincidence, is it Miss Walton?”

“No, I was adopted myself.”

“Yes, in 1982,” Nate said. “You were two years old. The state of Nevada.”

“Yes,” she said in disbelief.

“Now the last time you saw Bennett Kimball, he called you by a different name, didn’t he? What was it?” He asked, but she didn’t answer. “Gigi? Georgia Gilbert. Gigi.”

She nodded imperceptibly on the stand.

“That’s who he was looking at when he saw you that day. Your birth mother, the woman he loved and lost in 1980.” This whole time he was speaking just to Ruth it seemed, but he then addressed the judge, “Your Honor, Bennett Kimball didn’t call Miss Walton here out of the blue to donate money to her charity. He searched for her. He searched for his daughter.”

“I move to strike Mr. Popodokos’s evidence from the record based on the fact that I haven’t been able to get adequate time to review these outlandish claims and prepare a proper response,” Blanchard said almost desperately.

“Popodokolos,” Nate corrected again.

“Popodokolos!” He nearly screamed.

“I agree, Your Honor,” Tara said, standing elegantly. “And I would also like to add a motion to compel a DNA test to put to rest any doubt that my client is Mr. Kimball’s daughter. The truth will win out.”

“Motion granted,” the judge said. “When we get the results, I expect I will be awarding Miss Walton the Kimball estate. We’re adjourned.”

Blanchard wasn’t too happy with that outcome. He got even more upset once he was arrested as a result of the dirty files Parker handed over to the authorities from Blanchard’s office. He was screaming insults and suspicions that Nate wasn’t a lawyer as he was dragged out of the courtroom.

“So,” Nate said to Tara, “do you still think law is, you know, the only pathway to justice?”

“Now more than ever,” she replied. “I like to think that you learned something from me today.”

She then left the courtroom with a pep in her step. We all filed out after her, heading back to the pub.

We met up with Ruth, giving the bit of closure we could when Nate asked her where her lawyer, Tara, was.

“My lawyer? I never met her before this week,” she replied confused. “She told me she was with you.”

We all shared a look. We quickly said our goodbyes to Ruth, wishing good luck, before heading up to Nate’s apartment. Once we entered, it wasn’t hard to spot Tara sitting in the middle of the room. She was wearing more comfortable and revealing clothes compared to her lawyer outfit. She also wore darker makeup and had her hair down.

“Took you long enough,” she said, much more relaxed than before as well. She waved an envelope in her hand.

Eliot stepped in front of us, “Who are you?”

“Tara Cole,” she replied easily. “I’m a friend of Sophie’s.” She handed the envelope to Nate, “She said you were short handed, asked me to help. It’s in there.”

Eliot stood intimidatingly close to her, arms crossed. Parker looked her up and down evaluating.

“So you help out by lying to us,” Hardison accused.

“I wanted to see how good you really are,” she answered simply. “And show you how good I am. Consider it my audition.”

I stood back a bit, giving some space, “well, I’m never ignoring that gut feeling again.” I said, somewhat to myself, but I didn’t mind if anyone heard. Tara tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at me in response.

“I bet you’re not even a lawyer,” Parker said, a bit of disgust in her voice.

“Awe, Sophie was right. You are adorable.”

“Excuse me?”

Eliot, Hardison, and I stepped in a bit there, trying to defuse the situation that would surely lead to Parker starting a fight. It stayed at a bit of arguing before Nate caught our attention.

“She’s right. Sophie did send her.” Nate looked back at the letter, “And, uh, Sophie asked us to give Tara here a shot.” Nate handed the letter to Hardison to read to confirm. “Well played. Welcome aboard.”

“Thanks,” Tara said, shaking Nate’s hand. She then started for the door.

“Whoa whoa. Hold up,” Hardison said, stopping her. “What is this?” He held out another paper.

“Oh, that’s my invoice,” She said. “For my cut of the inheritance.” We all stared at her for a moment. “Hey, I’m not a candy striper. This is my job.”

We turned to Nate and he gave a single, slow nod.

“There, see? We’re getting paid already. It’s gonna be fun.” She then made her exit.

I sighed after a moment, “well, I say we sleep on it. Not worry about it tonight.” I stretched a bit, a groan leaving my lips when a bruise protested.

They all hummed in agreement, dispersing themselves and the tense energy around us, just a little bit.

Eliot stepped up beside me, “How’re you feeling? I heard you took a tumble, just tackled Blanchard to the ground.”

I chuckled a bit, “Something like that. I’m okay, nothing like what you do, but I’m definitely gonna be finding bruises.”

He shook his head, “yeah, but you’re not used to it like I am.”

“True.” We headed to the door, Eliot walking me across the hall.

“Take a warm bath, epsom salts help the aches,” he said once I opened up my apartment.

I looked up at him, his eyes were shifting around my face, as if looking me over. If I didn’t know him, I would have said he was nervous. “Thanks, I’ll do that.”

He nodded and then turned and started down the exit stairs supposedly going home as I shut my apartment door softly.

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @instantdinosaurtidalwave @kniselle @technikerin23 @kiwikitty13@plasticbottleholder

#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer #leverage #rewrite #slow burn #multichapter #nate ford #sophie devereaux #alec hardison #parker #ford!reader

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sillylittlestoryblog · 2 years

Text

Angel Torres x reader

Notes: hey guys. I waited like over two weeks but because almost nobody else is interested in writing some nope fanfictions, i’ m gonna do it. Be aware, my writing is Not Good. And if your also waiting for nope ffs pls Write some. I look at these tags daily!!!! These characters deserve some love! Maybe if I‘m not totally depressed again, I’m gonna write another one.

Warnings: english isnt my First Language, blood, spoilers, some swearing

„Fuck“

Dust and sand had mixed with your tears. Once again you rubbed your eyes and looked up.

No matter how many times OJ had told you that you should not look up.

Jean Jacket was no longer visible. In front of you was only a cloudless sky. In another context it would have been the perfect day. Blue sky, nothing but space.The sun was shining in the afternoon heat. But right now you only felt fear.

Slowly you began to stand up. Your ankle hurt. You remembered that while running you had tripped over one of the wires. Weeks ago you wanted to help the Haywood siblings to remove the wires behind the old barn. But there had always been too much to do at the horse ranch. It had only been 6 months since Mr. Otis Haywood had died in a strange way. It was still unexplainable. He had taught you to ride as a child. He was a kind man and a good teacher. His children always following him around, trying to help as much as they could. You remember OJ standing on the edge of the gate laughing. You hadn't really been very skilled. Emerald, who was only two years older, was standing next to him. She knew how difficult some horses could be. She started cheering you on. While her big brother just rolled his eyes.

Even today, the two had a similar dynamic. Em was loud and cheerful, she loved to play pranks with you on the other farm workers, but especially on her brother. Often you would stay with her long after work hours and you would cook together and sing loudly in the kitchen to Mr haywood's old records. She has always been your friend but you two got really close after what had happend with her father. She talked about it, when it was just the two of you sitting on the porch drinking a glass of wine on a Sunday evening.

Her brother was different. OJ was quiet instead. Most of the time he watched situations rather than get involved in them. He was the silent observer. But never in such a way that it was uncomfortable. He was more like a protector watching over you. A big brother. It was difficult for him to open up. He didnt really talk about what happend. But you could see it in his face, he was thinking about it all the time. And when we all found about Jean Jacket. He didnt want to run away. He wanted to face the animal that killed his father. And he was gonna protect his horses, his home, his friends and his sister. That's why he was so annoyed at first that you and Em wanted to be part of the whole Jean Jacket plan. He thought it was too dangerous. But the farm and the horses were his whole life. And it had always been a second home to you, so it was clear that you would do anything to make the plan work.

You freed your foot from the wire and took a closer look. It was smeared with blood and your pants were torn open, but it probably looked worse than it actually was. You could still feel your foot. It hurt when you started standing up. You tried to move slowly. The house in front of you still red and bloodied. The remnants of the previous nights lay around the porch. You tried not to look too closely, the fear of catching parts of your friends on the roof above the door was to big. You had not yet been able to think further about what exactly had happened. The crazy movie maker that was Antlers Holst had run right into Jean Jacket's arms. That was the last thing you could consciously remember. After that you ran and woke up unconscious next to the horse paddock. A horrible feeling spread in your stomach. "What if... no. I can't even think like that."

Angel was safe. You were sure of that. No one had as much useless knowledge about alien attacks and UFOs as Angel. If anyone could survive something like that, it would be him. You couldn't think anything else. Tears welled up in your eyes and the nauseating feeling spread throughout your body. It almost felt like your throat was closing up. Angel couldn’t be hurt. You wouldn’t know what to do. Last night you had been talking to him. He was afraid and still he didnt think twice about helping you. You wished you could have just grabbed his stupid face and gave him a kiss. Maybe this could have been the last chance to do so. But you were too nervous. The handsome man with his way to goodlooking smile would never be interested in you. And maybe he was dead now. You didnt see him after all that happend. Jean Jacket could have eaten him. That was the new life you had to make sense now. The guy you had a massive crush on got eaten by an alien that looked like a fucking eye. You were sure you wouldnt find a support group for something like that. You started crying even more. The tears were running down your cheeks. He needs to be alive. Everything around you started spinning. You were ready to puke but instead you collapse in front of the Haywoods door.

Its about two Hours later when Angel finally reaches the house. Its already dark outside. The aching pain in his Body is distrecting him from his enviroment. He doesn’t remember what truly happend. Stuff was laying around and he was trying hard not to trip over it. A small Body was laying on the Front portch. He would recognise this face anywhere. It was in his mind and in his dreams for the last weeks. He wanted to shout your name but his voice was to croaky. He reached the porch and sat down next to you. His hands were cold and sprinkled with his own blood. He reached up to your head and started stroking your hair. He let out a rough chuckle. Even though you just fought an alien and survived you still looked really nice. You always looked nice. And pretty. He had thought about telling you before the whole plan, but somehow he was too nervous. Normally he was outgoing and loud,often annoying the people around him. He really liked talking and so he was doing it most of the day. But every time he spent alone with you he didnt know what to say. He was suddenly quiet. His mind was racing at the same time trying to come up with the perfect thing to say. And his hands where fidgeting with the nearest object. You were also smart and interested in the things he was rambling to OJ and Em about. And sometimes you looked at him. It felt like you could truly see him. Looking through him, into his soul. Finding his deepest darkest secrets but not being able to look away. Angel knew he adored you the first time he saw you walking towards him. And now here you where laying in his arm. But not exactly in the way he had dreamed about it. Your hair was soft against his chapped fingers. He saw your eyes open.

„ hey, are you alright? Can you hear me?“

The first thing you saw where his bleached hair and that handsome smirk. His arms where wrapped around you, securing your weak body. One hand was caressing your cheek the other was holding you tightly against his chest. His body was covered in bloody wounds and cuts. It was probably hurting him holding you that way but he didnt really seemed to care.

„ i thought i lost you.“

You started crying. He was alive.

„ that stupid fucking filmmaker. He could have gotten you killed.“

Angel was trying to hold it in, but started quietly crying too.

„ I am alright. We both survived. We will be alright.“

Tears where running down both of your faces. Your hand was touching his cheek. You were leaning into him. His eyes were darting to your mouth. And before you could really think about it your hands where both cupping his face and he closed the proximity between you too. It was a short and soft kiss. You were pressing your foreheads against each other. Softly mumbling with closed eyes and a lowered voice.

„Yes. I think so too. We will be alright, Angel.“

#angel torres #angel torres x reader #nope 2022 #nope #nope fan fiction #Angel #Angel Torres imagine #we need nope ff !

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doublecheekeddiaz · 7 months

Text

Fuck it Friday

I have been tagged a multitude of times in the last few weeks by @wildlife4life @monsterrae1 and various others and i've had nothing but since we're saying fuck it today, there was a conversation between @cryinginthebronco and I because of a student I dealt with a work today and this was the result - which may or may not get fleshed out, I really dont know.

"Henry - Darling -" Pez lets the word drip from his tongue, drawn out and slow, as he slips the book from Henrys hands and slots himself into the same space that it had occupied, propped on the edge of the table, his socked feet coming to rest on Henrys thighs. "Rude," Henry blinks, though he cant help the smile that appears across his face for his best friend. "Do you know what day it is today?" Pez asks "I believe it's a Wednesday." Henry nods, his hands wrapping around Pez's ankles, looking for somewhere to go in the absence of a book. Pez wrinkles his nose. "You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling, think - special occassion." Henry rolls his eyes at the reference. "If you're asking whether or not I have forgotten the date of my own birthday then I can assure yo-" "A very particular birthday," Pez cuts in, booping Henry on the nose with an index finger to emphasize the 'particular.' "Ah." It's solemn, an understanding nod. "You have come to make good on our arrangement." "Henry Augustus Edward Percival Bruce James whatever the hell your middle names are-" Henry scowls and somehow manages to hiccup a laugh at the same time, Pez knows full well what his names are. "-Will you marry me?" "Percy Okonjo," he pauses, letting it settle in, "I will. I think we've been spinsters long enough." Pez paddles his feet on Henrys knees and lets out a loud, gleeful yell. He takes Henrys face in his hands and kisses both his cheeks, wet, a little sloppy. "I'll rally the witnesses!"

Several years later.

“I’m gonna marry the shit out of you one day, sweetheart.” Alex drawls, lazy with a sated post-coital delirium.

Henry doesn’t mean to squeak.

Alex shuffles over onto his side, squinting at Henry suspiciously, “-what was that?”

“Um – Alex,” Henry sounds more panicked than he really wants to, he sits up, suddenly a lot less sated. “I haven’t – you mustn’t take this the wrong way – it’s a matter very easily rectified given the situation…” He’s chewing at an already worn-down fingernail, staring off at the wall, seeing nothing.

“Henry, spit it out, I’m getting nervous.” Alex sits up too, crossing his legs so he’s facing Henry, eyes roaming across the side profile of his face.

“Well – the thing is, Pez and I had an arrangement, you know, we were 23 and chronically, god, depressingly single and maybe a little bit drunk but we agreed that if neither of us were in a serious relationship by the time we were 30 we would – well, we got married.”

There’s a silence that spans the length of Henrys nerves.

“You’re married?” Alex deadpans, his face a straight line “to Pez?”

“It’ll be a very simple divorce – annulment even, we never-“

“Nope, you’re not gonna finish that sentence, I don’t want the metal image.”

“You’re not - I don’t know, mad?” Henry hesitates.

“Not a fan of the neurotic girlfriend stereotype, babe, i’m a feminist.”

Henry snorts.

“I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind.”

“Oh, it’s easy for you to just forget you’re married? Shit, maybe we should-“

He point blank refuses to hear the last part of Alex’s comment, banter or not, so he talks over him.

“Forgive me if i’ve spent the last three years with my face buried so deeply between your arse cheeks, physically and metaphorically, that I forgot i’m in a platonic marriage of convenience with my best friend.”

#shush chloe #rwrb

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msmargaretmurry · 1 year

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tagged by @warmupbrawl to post my top 5 most listened songs lately. thanks for giving me a distraction during this hockey game!

anywhere with you — maggie rogers

been rotating blorbos to this one a LOT lately. it’s great for every blorbo-rotating situation: sitting on the train, strolling through the city, driving in the car (even cruising down 95, if u will) (sorry). i’m especially obsessed with the bridge (”would you tell me if i ever started holding you back? / would you talk me off the guard rail of my panic attack?”) — the whole song captures this feeling about being wildly in love and desperately anxious about that love and i just keep thinking about how i want to write something that feels like that.

december (again) — neck deep ft. mark hoppus

this one got randomly stuck in my head a few weeks ago so i threw it on my commuting playlist and i just keep coming back to it. first of all, it’s a bop, second of all, the lyric “i came out grieving, barely breathing, and you came out all right” makes me want breakup/makeup fic so bad.

dismantling summer — the wonder years

i have a normal amount of wonder years songs in rotation on my top tracks at any given moment. this one is getting the most play lately because it’s a summer jam and therefore goes with the great warm weather we’ve been having lately (this current weekend nontwithstanding) (when will the sun return from the war 😩) also obviously i have to get my greatest generation spins in before lpoefest in september.

handle me — muna

i listened to the muna album this is from a lot while writing head above water last year (GREAT album), and then someone commented on ao3 a while back saying that this song is a leon song in that fic, and so it’s been on my commuting playlist ever since, lmao.

born to be yours — kygo ft. imagine dragons

okay look. did i discover this song just because of this video? maybe. is it mildly embarrassing that i’ve listened to it incessantly for a year now? definitely. is it gonna be on my spotify wrapped again this year? yeah probably.

(i pulled this top five from my receiptify monthly report but i think it should be noted that i have spent most of this specific week listening to country music, and also listened to “the saga begins” by weird al like twelve times on friday, neither of which are choices i will be explaining.)

i am tagging: @hopetorun @bropunzeling @postoperation @vivathewilddog @slightly and anyone who wants to do this tbh, i love hearing about people’s music!!

#and now i am going to go pour myself a very large glass of wine during intermission #i'm surprisingly stressed for a person who will be happy with certain aspects of either outcome of this game seven lmao

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castielific · 2 years

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Idiots in Love

Title: Idiots in Love (AO3) Words: 6 625 Pairing: Dean/Cas Rating: Explicit Tags: Alternate Ending, Human!Cas, Dean has a sexuality crisis Summary:

"So, no God, no wings, no imminent apocalypse, what are your plans now?" Dean tries to make the question sound casual by taking a gulp of his beer.

"I want to have sex with a man," Cas declares, nibbling at a red vine cherry twist. He barely reacts to Dean spitting his beer all over the table and choking on his sip. (...) Cas tilts his head and adds, "I may need your help with that."

You can read it under the cut or on AO3

********************************

"So, no God, no wings, no imminent apocalypse, what are your plans now?" Dean tries to make the question sound casual by taking a gulp of his beer.

Truth is, Dean is getting worried about the ex-angel. Cas has taken a little too much of a liking to Dean's habits of spending his days in his pajamas. It was fun the first couple of days and Dean had a blast showing him all his favorite shows and lazing around with his best friend. Except now it's been nearly a month since Chuck has been gone and Cas became human, and Dean's pretty sure Cas hasn't changed out of those damn pajamas for the whole week. At least, that's what it's starting to smell like. Thank God Cas also loves showers or they would have to febreze the whole bunker at this point. He's just not caught up on the whole laundry thing yet. Or, you know, being a functional human being that does anything other than watching TV in his pajamas all day and gobbling candies. There's just...so much candy. It's a wonder Cas hasn't gotten sick already.

"I want to have sex with a man," Cas declares, nibbling at a red vines cherry twist. He barely reacts to Dean spitting his beer all over the table and choking on his sip. Only raising an interrogative eyebrow as he watches the hunter cough and frantically hit his own chest with a fist. As soon as Dean finally manages to start breathing normally again, Cas tilts his head and adds, "I may need your help with that."

It's a good thing Dean hasn't taken another sip because even his own saliva seems hard to swallow right now. Good thing the choking already made his face bright red too.

"You-what!?" he stops, trying to compose himself. His heart is beating so fast that for a second he thinks he's gonna throw up.

Despite his apparent nonchalance, Dean catches Cas sending him a nervous glance. The damn red vine is still hanging from his friend's lips and Cas goes crossed eyes when he tries to avoid Dean's gaze by looking at the candy.

"So what, you want me to drive you to a bar and be your wingman?"

There's a flash of something that Dean doesn't have the time to identify on Cas' face, before his poker face is back on. "If that's how you think you can help me, yes. I'd appreciate it."

"Okay. We'll- We'll do that then," Dean declares, raising up. His stomach is in knots and his body is begging him to run away from this situation. He's not sure why, but he feels a disappointment that he wasn't expecting. "Tonight's good for you?"

"Yes, Dean. Thank you," Cas looks about as uncomfortable as Dean feels.

Maybe he was expecting the hunter to react another way to Castiel basically coming out to him?

Yeah, that's probably it.

Dean should make an effort to appear extra supportive tonight; he doesn't want his best friend to think he's not accepting his sexuality. He nods to himself at the thought.

He should probably say something more right now actually. They look at each other for a moment. Cas is scrutinizing his face in that intense way he has, like he's trying to read his mind. Dean is used to it, yet right now it's making his skin itch, so he just offers a last nod and walks away.

************

Dean waits to have a beer and a shot, plus the whisky he downed before coming, to break the tension between them. Cas hasn't said a word on the drive here. Dean tried to joke about him making an effort, because Cas put on a nice white shirt and jeans, but the joke fell horribly flat, Cas sending a look at his clothes, and muttering about Dean telling him it was "appropriate dating attire" last time. It took a moment for Dean to remember the worst experience in babysitting ever. He was ready to joke about hoping things turn out better this time, but Cas was already walking to the garage and getting into Baby.

He still hasn't said much. Dean hopes it's just because Cas is nervous, that it has nothing to do with anything Dean could have done (or not done). He still feels like he should say something though.

"Cas, I know I probably didn't react the way you were hoping earlier," Dean starts, trying to pick his words carefully.

"What do you mean?" Cas tilts his head, looking genuinely interested by the answer. Maybe a little too much.

"I just want you to know that I'm one hundred percent okay with all this," Dean says with a vague gesture at their surroundings.

Dean actually searched the internet to find a gay friendly bar in their area. He didn't want Cas to be confronted with any homophobic douchebags. It's clearly not the kind of bar Dean is used to, and it's making him even more uncomfortable. Every surface is shiny and modern and white, and there are lasers going around the room, along with some electronic music that might just make his ears bleed.

Cas seems unfazed by it and it makes Dean wonder what kind of bar Cas would actually choose to go to if they gave him a choice from time to time. They always kinda make those decisions for him. Hell, before right this instant, Dean never actually thought about the fact that Cas' first choice might not be roadhouses, diners, or even classic rock (God forbid). Cas just never seemed that interested in all that, just going along with whatever Sam and Dean want to do (okay, mostly Dean). But he's human now, he deserves to explore what he likes or doesn't like, even if that ends up being different from what his friends favor.

That's probably what they're doing right now, actually, Dean thinks when he sees Cas' eyes following a guy passing near their table. Dean wishes he was a better friend, that he could be more supportive, but he can't help but hate it.

He doesn't want to be here trying to get Cas laid with another guy. He wanted them to stay at home and watch movies together. He's ready to let Cas explore his tastes in movies and food and even music, but this? Dean doesn't like this. It feels wrong and unsettling and he's not sure if that means that he's homophobic or a terrible friend or...whatever.

He hates this, but he'll do his best to play along. For Cas. Because he lo...likes Cas. Very much. As a brother. So if Cas can listen to the same music tape seven times in a row and not complain, Dean can very well sit his ass in this bar, listen to terrible music and act supportive for one night.

Cas is still looking at him like he knows that Dean is lying and is not comfortable with this at all, so Dean feels the need to explain.

"I was just surprised, that's all. I had no idea you were into dudes now."

"I've always been 'into dudes'." The air quotes he makes prove his exasperation. Cas only uses air quotes when he's frustrated.

"Well, you've never said," Dean pouts, scratching at the label on his beer. He's trying not to get defensive because they don't need that right now, but Cas is obviously upset at him and he doesn't understand why.

"You're right. I didn't." Cas takes a deep breath that ends in a sigh. "The first...attraction I ever felt was for a man," Cas confesses. "I was still an angel back then, I didn't really understand it. Then I became human and-," he stops for a second, biting his bottom lip like he's stopping the words he really wants to say, "I guess I thought it would be easier to fit in if I were to focus on girls," he admits, a little sheepish. "After all, It's not that I don't like girls. I'm not...I'm not really attracted to gender or physical attributes, it's more about…," his eyes travel over Dean's features as Cas searches for the right words. "It's more about who they are."

"Yeah," Dean breathes. "Yeah, I think I get that."

The corner of Cas' lips raises up in a smile, a little timid but relieved.

"I'm not sure you're gonna learn much about who people are in a place like this, though." Dean sends a doubtful look toward the dance floor, where people in various states of undress are rubbing against each other.

"I'm not looking for my soulmate tonight," Cas shrugs it off, "Just sex," Cas says, inclining his head as he watches a man langourously tonguing another guy's bellybutton. "I think you're right, though. This doesn't look like my scene," he admits with a grimace that looks half intrigued, half dubious about what he's seeing.

Thank fucking God Dean can't help but think in relief. He was starting to worry about Cas starting to blast David Guetta in the Bunker and wearing net shirts. Although the net shirts might be...Nope, that would be weird.

"Should I try Tinder then?" Cas' question is so unexpected that Dean chokes on his own saliva. Again.

"How do you even know about Tinder?" he asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He may have spit a little over the table too, but Cas doesn't seem to notice, or care.

"I'm a human living in the twenty-first century now, Dean. I know things." Dean raises a dubious eyebrow, and Cas shrugs. "The man from the store told me about it," he admits with an eye roll.

"What? What man? What store?"

"He asked me if I was on Tinder, and seemed very disappointed when I said I wasn't. Although considering the things he propositioned we do, maybe that's not my scene either," Cas reflects out loud.

What the Hell? Who's that guy 'propositioning' Cas? Dean really needs to know so he can 'proposition' his fist into that guy's face.

"What store, Cas? When did that happen?"

"Hello beautiful," a guy in black jeans and a tight tee-shirt salutes lasciviously as he appears next to the table, leaning his hips against it, back to Dean as he leers at Cas.

"Go away, we're busy," Dean dismisses, pushing at the hips until the guy nearly tumbles. He sends Dean a glare before going away. Cas' mouth is open like he was actually considering answering. "What guy, Cas?" Dean insists. He's gonna find that asshole and tear him a new one. Who the hell goes around 'propositioning' angels anyway? A fucking pervert, that's who!

Cas' mouth snap closes and he squints at Dean. "That was very rude, Dean," he reproaches, looking at where the guy from earlier has disappeared into the crowd.

"Who, him? He was a jerk, Cas."

"You don't know that," Cas reproches. "He had a very nice smile."

"I have a nice smile, and I'm a jerk."

"But you obviously don't want to have sex with me, so," Cas mutters to himself. His eyes go comically wide when he realizes that he said it out loud. Probably as wide as Dean's.

"WHAT."

Cas doesn't blush often, yet his cheeks are definitely redder right now. He doesn't let that bring him down though, sitting up straighter and raising his chin in that stubborn way he has. "Well, I'm not wrong, am I?" he taunts, eyes firmly set on Dean's and...shit.

Shit shit shit.

IS HE?

Dean opens and closes his mouth a few times. He feels like a bomb just exploded inside his brain. Where did that come from? Of course Cas is wrong. Dean doesn't want to sleep with him...does he?

Okay, he may have thought about it a few times. That wasn't voluntary though, like when you dream about your mom's nipples or something. Except the thought of having sex with Cas definitely didn't provoke the same ick factor that thinking about his mom's nipples just did. With Cas it's more like...curiosity?

Even now, in the middle of the most uncomfortable conversation ever, Cas' chin remains jutted, his stare firm and Dean...Dean wonders what it would take to break that strong facade. To make him gasp for breath and beg for release. To make him lose control.

The thought makes him gulp, eyes falling to Cas' lips and yeah, those have definitely starred in a few of his fantasies. Not, like, explicitly. Or with Cas' face attached to it. Just in a furtive thought as he was pleasuring himself 'eh I wonder what those lips would feel like wrapped around my cock'. Or Cas' hands. Maybe he looked at his ass once or twice, on the rare occasion that the damn trench coat wasn't hiding it. Damn that trenchcoat...he actually had a few fantasies about that trenchcoat too.

Oh God.

What?!

Dean's not sure what happens next.

One moment he's having a panic attack in a gay bar outside of Kensington, and the next time he blinks he's in the bunker's garage having no idea how he drove back here or how long it's been. What he immediately realizes though, is that Castiel definitely wasn't along for the ride.

Oh shit, did he just abandon Cas in the middle of a Gay bar? The word gay makes him flinch.

He's not gay! Just because he may be attracted to a dude doesn't make him gay! There were tons of men in that bar and he wasn't attracted to anyone else other than...Cas. Can he be blamed when Cas undid one button too many on his white shirt again?

Shit shit shit. He needs a drink.

The sound of the bunker door closing brings him out of his daze again, God knows how long later. He looks up from the map table littered with beer bottles, and is brutally reminded about the fact that he abandoned Cas when his eyes come across the glare the other man is currently sending him.

Dean lowers his eyes in guilt, but immediately regrets it when they fall on the rest of Cas' body.

Cas is drenched. His white shirt is so wet it's sticking to his body, showing the skin under it. Dean's eyes glide along the darker shade of a nipple that the see-through shirt can't hide anymore. Hell, it's so transparent that Dean can see Cas' belly button. He suddenly has a new look on what that guy was doing to that other guy on the dance floor.

Does he want to lick Cas' belly button?

His staring is interrupted when the nice view is suddenly turning away and stomping out of the library. Dean's on his feet and following before he even realizes. Damn he has totally lost all control of his body tonight, hasn't he? And of his mind. And of his sexuality, apparently.

Cas' door nearly hits him in the face when the other man slams it. Dean deflates.

"Cas?" Dean says, knocking hesitantly.

Cas is obviously pissed, rightly so, but he can't leave him go to bed hating Dean like this. He's not sure what he wants from Cas right now, but hate was never it.

"Cas, come on, open up," he says, knocking again. Dean worries his lip as he waits for Cas to answer. "I'll stay here all night if I have to. You can't ignore me forever!"

All he hears in answer is the noise of a drawer being close too sharply. Okay, definitely pissed then.

"I know that was a jerk move, okay? Please let me apologize at least!" He knocks again before leaning his head against the door, sighing. He really screwed up tonight, didn't he?

The door opens at once, making Dean stumble forward. He would have fallen on his face if it wasn't for Cas catching him. He blinks and there is suddenly a lot more skin showing than what he was expecting, the surprise making him jump away at once. Cas is wearing a dark blue bathrobe that Dean accidentally tugged at when he nearly fell. From what he's seen, Cas isn't wearing much else.

Except maybe the scowl and the glare directed at Dean right now.

Castiel doesn't bother rearranging his bathrobe as he crosses his arms and waits for Dean to say something.

Anything.

He should really say something.

The thing is, Cas didn't rearrange his bathrobe and there is a whole lot of skin showing, the collar hanging so low that one of Cas' nipples is looking right at him. It's very distracting. Also: legs. Dean doesn't think he's ever seen Cas' bare legs before. Hell, he's never even imagined Cas' legs before. They're more tanned than they have any right to be. His thighs are paler though. And so damn meaty. Oh God, Cas' thighs are showing. Dean feels his ears burn.

"You left me, Dean," Cas' hoarse voice accuses, making Dean look up at his face so fast that he nearly gets whiplash. The hurt on his friend's features is definitely sobering.

Dean slowly takes a step forward, not sure he's welcomed. Cas stands his ground until Dean is standing right in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Cas. I don't know what I was-," Dean pleads.

"No," Cas interrupts. "Please, you at least owe me honesty," Cas says, taking a step closer. He's so close Dean can feel the hem of his bathrobe brush against his shins. Dean licks his lips and Cas' eyes drop, following the movement as he inclines his head. "Why did you run away, Dean?" He's searching Dean's gaze for the answer and Dean forces himself to hold his gaze, even though his legs and head are begging him to run away right now.

"I- I'm sorry, Cas, I shouldn't have done that," he says, taking a step backward. Cas follows him, not letting him cop out as he continues to observe him like he's the most intriguing thing he's ever seen.

"I asked you a question, Dean. This isn't an answer," he scolds in an authoritative tone that makes a shiver run through Dean, his toes curling in his boots.

It brings a memory to the forefront of his mind: 'You should show me some respect'. His dick had twitched at that voice back then too. Damn, has he been that oblivious for the last eleven years? How many times did he ignore those feelings, this attraction to Cas? How long has he been lying to himself about this?

"I-" Dean starts, closing his mouth and gulping with difficulty before he starts again, "I think I do."

Cas frowns in confusion. "You do what?"

"You know," Dean tries to dismiss. Cas continues to squint at him and oh God he's not gonna make him say it out loud, is he? "I think I do want…," he makes a vague gesture over Cas' body, "with you," he finishes lamely. Somehow the last word sounded like a question, and Dean bites his own lip, silently admonishing himself. That was the worst 'propositioning' he ever did. He probably gave the store creep a run for his money.

Cas takes half a step closer, raising his chin. He's so close that their chests are brushing. "Say it."

"Wh- Cas, I-," Dean stutters.

"Say it," Cas orders.

A tiny whimper escapes Dean's lips at the tone of his voice. The hunter wipes his mouth with his hand, like there is any way he could take it back or that Cas didn't hear it. The other man is still staring straight at him, but there is something new in his gaze, a hardness that is definitely making something in Dean harden too.

"I want to-" Dean closes his eyes. Why is it so hard to say? It's not like it's a secret anymore, it's obvious in the way Cas' pupils are swallowing the blue of his eyes that not only does he know exactly what Dean wants, but he wants it too. He wants him. "You. I want you, Cas," Dean finally croaks.

It's like a light breeze of air passes over Cas' face and relaxes all his features at once. His eyes close, his brows smooth out and his mouth goes slack as he makes a tiny sound. He looks like he's just swallowed a bite of the best damn burger in the world. That's a nice preview of the kind of face Dean wants to see him make in the very near future.

When Cas opens his eyes, the corner of his lips is slightly raised in a smirk. "Good," he simply says. He looks like he might devour Dean alive any second now, or maybe fall to his knees and thank God or something.

Which is why Dean is so startled when Cas turns around and walks away.

Dean blinks at him as the other man goes to his dresser where his wet shirt is rumpled and starts straightening it out like he's planning on doing laundry right now.

"What? That's all?" Dean gapes.

Cas stops moving for just a second, sending him a fast glance over his shoulder before he walks to the ensuite bathroom.

"Cas!" Dean calls, following him and watching, bewildered, as Cas starts hanging his shirt and pants over the shower curtain bar.

When he turns, he looks like he hadn't even noticed Dean was there. Dean squints. He knows better. He knows Cas. There is a self-satisfied quirkiness to his lips, a cocky glint in his eyes as he raises an eyebrow at Dean.

"Were you expecting anything else?"

In answer, Dean gives him his best 'don't bullshit a bullshiter look' and Cas shrugs.

"Just because you want me doesn't mean I have to fall on my knees for you." An image of Cas on his knees distracts Dean for a second and he misses what Cas says next. "-for ten years now."

"Huh?" Dean says, his eyes hypnotized by the way Cas' bathrobe sashays around his bare legs as he takes a few steps closer.

Cas' groan of frustration is proof that he's realized Dean wasn't listening anymore. He throws his hands up, and pushes himself to pass next to Dean who's standing at the door. Their bodies press against one another for just a second, Dean's fingers involuntarily brushing against the fine hairs on one of Cas' thighs and making him gasp.

Cas just pushes on until he's pacing in his bedroom. Shit, he's been talking again.

"-dibly dense!" he finishes. "Dean!" he reproaches, his voice going higher in frustration when he notices Dean's hasn't been listening to his rant.

"Sorry sorry, I-" Dean says, raising his hands in front of himself in defense. He groans in frustration, pulling on the short hair on the back of his head. "I just realized I'm in love with my best friend and my brain has a little difficulty catching up, okay?!"

"You're what?" Cas says, eyes like saucer and mouth hanging open.

It takes a second for Dean to catch up to what's going on. What? He said just a few minutes ago that he was in lust for him he doesn't see-

Lust. Shit, wrong L word.

Wait.

Is it?

Dean lets himself fall on his ass on the bed, feeling like his legs just turned to jelly.

IS IT???

When Cas sits next to him, the mattress dips and they both slide closer, until their thighs are touching.

"You're right. It is a lot for one night," Cas admits, looking as dazed as Dean feels. "I never thought you could want me, let alone…"

"Does that mean you don't feel the same?"

That seems to wake Cas back up. "Of course I do!" He looks scandalized that Dean would think, even for a second, that Castiel doesn't love him.

"Well, you weren't exactly obvious," Dean argues.

"Back at you. You were so oblivious I suspect that you didn't even know yourself until tonight."

"Point taken," Dean admits. "Jeez, we really are a couple of dumbasses, aren't we?" Dean chuckles.

Cas laughing next to him is one of the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard.

Jesus, he really is in love with Cas, isn't he?

He sends him a look out of the corner of his eyes. Cas is still smiling as he fidgets with the cord of his bathrobe. Dean leans sideways until his shoulder bumps Cas' and they share the same stupidly fond smile for a moment.

The silence gets denser though, and Dean nibbles at his lip as he thinks. "So, where does that leave us, huh?".

"Here," Cas says, like it's the most obvious thing. "Together." He starts to literally point at them both, like Dean is an actual idiot. Dean rolls his eyes, grabbing Cas' hands to stop him. The move makes their shoulders bump again and this time they leave them there, their whole sides pressed against one another, hands linked on their laps.

"I'm not supposed to like men, you know," Dean says, looking at the decidedly manly hand he's still holding in his, at the hairy thighs showing under that.

"I'm not even supposed to be a man."

It hits Dean suddenly, how much he actually does love this ridiculous man. Angel. Ex-angel. Whatever. Cas could have turned into a goddamn dog and Dean would still love him.

Wait, no, that's weird, Dean thinks with a frown.

A hand on his chin startles him, but he follows it as it guides his head to the left. When Cas' lips brush his, it feels like every nerve in his entire body short-circuits. It makes him surge forward a little too eagerly and Cas' yelp of surprise is muffled by Dean's mouth as they fall backwards. Their teeth clash when Cas' head impacts with the mattress. Dean doesn't care, enthusiastically sucking on Cas' bottom lip.

This kiss is nothing like the other kisses he's known. Cas' lips are chapped, his scuff is scratching Dean's chin and there is no trace of roundness on the chest under Dean's. He cradles the side of Cas' face, passing a thumb against the grain of the stubble on his cheek, the sound and feel of it giving him goosebumps. He presses his thumb a little more firmly, making Cas open his mouth until Dean can slip his tongue between them. He gets a groan of approval in response, hands grabbing his arms as Dean slides as close as he can. He knows he's probably crushing Cas, but he doesn't care. Cas can take it. Cas can take him.

Like he can hear that very thought, Cas bites Dean's top lip so hard that it makes the hunter's hips buck against Cas' thigh. They both grunt their approval at the move.

It's like a switch is suddenly turned on, like they suddenly remember that they're not just two mouths, that they have bodies and skins to explore. Dean's hands slip under the collar of Cas' bathrobe to press against his chest at the same time as Cas grabs the edge of his shirt and starts to pull it up. Dean moves away just long enough to throw his shirt to the ground before he's delving back for Cas' mouth.

His hand reflexibly tries to squeeze at breasts that aren't there, but it makes Cas moan anyway, so he does it again. It makes him wonder what else a man's body could be responsive to. He desperately wants to find out. Dean releases Cas' mouth to latch on one of his nipples instead. Cas' whole body surges up against him, grabbing his hair as Dean bites and licks and sucks at the little nub.

Dean leans over Cas with one of his arms, while his other hand does what he's been dreaming about and undoes the knot securing that goddamn bathrobe. Dean pushes the pans of the robe to the side, sitting up to openly observe the view that has newly been revealed to him.

Okay, yes, that definitely does it for him.

Cas' cock is hard, curled slightly to the left over his stomach and who knew Dean would ever find another man's cock this beautiful. He wants to fall to his knees and worship it. The thought is new and exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

Cas doesn't let him ponder it for long, grabbing his face and bringing him right back against his lips. Cas' mouth is brutal, feeling like it's trying to win a battle against Dean's until they're both breathless and left panting into one another's mouths.

Dean is ready to go back to kissing when Cas slips further down until he's not under Dean anymore. Dean sits up, a flash of panic at having done wrong blurring his mind until he sees the bathrobe flying across the room. He blinks at the garment on the ground for a few seconds before his brain is able to get back with the program and realizes that this must mean...He looks up and Cas is lying naked in the middle of the bed. He looks like the best damn offering.

"Take off your pants," Cas rasps.

The order makes Dean twitch so bad inside the confinement of his pants that it makes him curl up a little. He's only too happy to obey, taking the rest of his clothes off as fast as he can.

He's ready to lie back over Cas when the other man stops him with a hand on his shoulder. "No. On your back," Cas says. It's not quite an order, but not a suggestion either, Cas' voice sounding confident in the fact that Dean won't question it, will obey him.

He's right and in an instant, Dean is lying beside him on the bed. The other man raises up on his knees, settling next to Dean's hips. Cas' gaze is burning a path against Dean's skin as it observes his naked body from his chin to his toes and back up.

A curious finger brushes against his sternum, and Dean shudders. That seems to intrigue Cas, who presses his fingers a little more firmly, letting them travel on Dean's skin in intriguing patterns. It reminds Dean of Cas drawing sigils on the wall and makes him wonder what he could be writing on his skin. The fingers slide from Dean's collarbone, encircling his nipples, and drawing a line toward his bellybutton. They follow the ridge of his hips, before brushing so close to the head of Dean's dick that it twitches like it's trying to follow the fingers as they go away, up until they're tracing Dean's lips and making him squirm.

"Cas," Dean whines as the fingers pass over one of his nipples again.

It makes Cas' hand stop just under the dip of Dean's collarbone as he looks back up at him. Two fingers grab Dean's chin as Cas leans forward, brushing his lips over his. It's nothing like their previous kisses, so much softer in comparison. It feels like a blessing and is gone in a second, Cas' lips deposing another kiss just under one of Dean's eyes instead, lips trailing over his cheekbones.

Dean gasps, eyes closing as those lips kiss under his other eye, then the corner of his mouth. "Cas," he pleads again. He's not sure what he's asking for, throat suddenly so tight with emotion that he's afraid tears are going to leak out if he opens them again.

No one has ever kissed him like that. Like he's precious, like he means the world to them. He wasn't expecting it, never thought he would be so lucky to have it, and now he's not quite sure how to handle it.

Lips are suddenly closing around his cockhead and Dean shouts, surging up on the bed in surprise. Cas' hands are right there on his hips, pinning him to the bed, and there's a smirk on the very lips that just blessed him as they press against the head of his cock.

"Fuck, I love you," Dean rasps when his eyes cross Cas' cocky gaze. Only that man could make him go from love and devotion to so much lust that he feels like his dick is gonna explode.

Cas' tilts his head in a way that Dean knows very well, except it's never been coupled with him opening his mouth, dragging the head of Dean's hard cock into his mouth as his blue eyes stay right on Dean's green ones. The flat of Cas tongue is pressing just under the head, and Dean nearly screams again when Cas starts to suck around him, just a little, like he's tasting the flavor of a goddamn popsicle. Cas closes his eyes for a second, savoring it. Dean swallows a breath as Cas' tongue pokes out for another taste at the slit of his dick. He hums at the taste of Dean's precum, before twisting his tongue playfully around the head.

He continues licking and sucking lightly for a while, but as the minutes pass, Cas starts to look pensive, lost in his own head as he absently mouths at Dean's dick.

Cas startles when Dean's hand lands on his shoulder. Dean's dick pops out of his mouth with a filthy noise.

"Cas," Dean groans in frustration, because what the hell, they were kind of in the middle of something? Cas blinks up at him, like he just remembered that Dean was here. Dean sighs and grabs his arm, resigned and worried. "Come here," he says, pulling him up. Cas sends a glance at Dean's dick, like he's regretting getting away from it, but follows Dean's directions and lays down next to him. "You okay?" Dean asks as he turns toward him. Cas still looks a little out of it, and it's making Dean's heart beat faster in panic.

What if Cas doesn't want him after all?

"I'm sorry," Cas says. Dean thinks he might die, right now, if this night ends up with Cas rejecting him. Cas must see the flash of fear on Dean's face, because his thumb comes to brush reassuringly against his cheek. Cas slides closer, one of his legs slipping over Dean's until he's as close as he could possibly get. Dean's cock is nestled against the crease of Cas hips and legs. He doesn't pay it any mind though, searching for the reassurance he needs into the blue eyes right in front of him.

"What is it?" he whispers in the space between them. His hand is squeezing Cas' biceps a little too hard, but he can't quite let go.

"I just-," Cas starts, licking his lips before he presses his forehead against Dean's. "I never thought I would get to have this," he confesses.

"Fucking thank God!" Dean exclaims, so relieved he could cry.

Cas startles away, frowning in confusion, and maybe a little vexation.

"You had me crazy worried there, Cas! I thought you were having second thoughts!" Dean says, laughing to himself as his nerves settle down.

"What? No!" Cas says. "Of course not! I could never regret being with you, Dean," Cas swears, so brusque in his honesty that it sobers Dean right up.

He rolls his eyes instead and catches Cas' mouth with his. He bites Cas' bottom lip a little in retribution for the grief he's just caused, and Cas presses his hips closer. They both groan when their dicks brush against one another.

"You good with the freak out now? Because we were kind of in the middle of something..."

"You're one to talk about freaking out," Cas teases, with a sharp thrust of his hips that make them both moan.

Dean rolls his eyes again, shutting Cas up with another kiss as he rolls over him. He whimpers at the way Cas' legs open up under him. It's giving him ideas that he doesn't have the patience to follow through tonight. He'll definitely be here to explore them very soon though.

For now, Dean grabs one of Cas' knees, guiding it until it wraps around his own hips and he falls a little bit further down, right where he needs to be. His weight comes down on Cas' hips, and the other man gasps, breaking their kiss as he throws his head back. Dean nibbles at his jaw instead.

With his free hand, he circles Cas' cock, stroking it a few times and enjoying the noise the other man makes. He observes the way his brows come a little down, the edge of his teeth appearing as Cas bites his bottom lip in pleasure. Dean delights at the way Cas' jaw clenches, muscles working under his cheeks when Dean squeezes just a little harder and twists his fist on the upward move. He feels like he could do this all night, just watch Cas react to his touch.

He's been hard for so long though that he feels he's gonna burst, so he shifts until his dick comes to nestle right against Cas', and closes his hands around the both of them. Dean moans at the feeling of Cas squeezed against him, of the warm slide of their cocks together in his hands. He tries to thrust into his fist, but as good as it is, it doesn't feel quite right. His other hand is busy holding him up above Cas, so he releases their members for a second and grabs one of Cas' hands, guiding it until their joined hands create a tunnel around the both of them. Dean thrusts a little and Cas makes a noise like he might die. That must mean it feels as good to him as it feels to Dean. Cas' eyes are glazed over and fixed on the ceiling, so Dean adjusts his position until he hovers right above him and can look him in the eyes.

"Hey, stay with me, Cas," Dean says with a little nip to Cas' chin.

Blue eyes are instantly on him, a coy smile pressing against Dean's mouth. "Always," Castiel whispers.

"You're such a sap," Dean scoffs, blushing despite himself, not used to such affection.

He waits for Cas' to open his mouth, right on the verge of a reprimand before he gives a sharp thrust forward. He buries his satisfied smile into Cas' neck when the other man arches his back with a yelp. Dean does it again, and again, and suddenly Cas is following along, raising his hips to meet his thrusts.

It's sloppy and a little too dry, and they can't quite coordinate their moves. It's also all kind of perfect. The smooth skin of Cas' cock sliding against his is perfect. The way Cas' fingers are linked with his, pressing them closer is perfect. The noises Cas makes will haunt Dean's fantasies for the rest of his life.

To think that they could have been doing this for the last ten years… Dean groans, thrusting a little harder. They're idiots. Both of them. Mostly him, he admits as Cas lets out a long moan and paints their hands with his release. It makes everything wetter and Dean squeezes their hands harder, hips thrusting erratically as he searches for his own pleasure. Cas grabs his hair, pulling just this side of too sharp and Dean comes with a cry that Cas swallows right away.

"We're idiots," Dean mumbles a few seconds later, as he is panting into the side of Cas' neck. Cas doesn't answer, just pats his shoulder in a commiserate way. Dean knows he gets it.

They're both so dense that they had to be made for each other.

#destiel story #destiel fic #destiel #deancas #dean/cas #Dean/castiel #spn fic #ao3 fic #Destiel ao3 #ao3 link #dean/castiel #supernatural #spn

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