#to grab you by the lapels and fling you out of it

[gogogodzilla]

If you take asks for Connor, I'd like a story where basically reader does connor so hard he short circuits or something along those lines and reader is like "omg are you ok???" And after a moment, he's like, "very" idk I hope I explained it well

Missed You || Connor (RK800)

Summary: You couldn't wait for date night.

Warnings: smut, afab read, semi-public sex, fingering, slight choking, Connor has a praise kink, argue w the wall

{Masterlist}

After a few months of dating, you and Connor had developed some form of a schedule. Every Saturday was date night, and this week had you particularly eager for it to arrive. You’d barely spent any time with Connor with him being stuck on a case that had him halfway across the city for most of his days and working late nights. 

Saturday night rolled around like it always did, and you paced your shared apartment in anticipation of Connor arriving. You’d both agreed on just going to a movie. It was the one you’d been dying to see, so you weren’t complaining.  

The sound of keys jingling against the lock had you practically sprinting to the front door and flinging it open. Connor looked down at you with wide eyes, his keys hovering mid-air. 

You grabbed the lapels of his usual suit jacket and brought him into a kiss. He let out a small sound of surprise against your lips but quickly melted into your grasp. He wrapped his arms around you as he nudged you further into your apartment and kicked the front door closed. 

“Missed you,” you murmured against his lips as you ran a hand through his hair. 

He slowly pulled away, taking in your features. “I just need to get changed and then we can go,” he offered, patting your hip as he released you. 

You wanted to say to hell with date night and just ravish him where he stood, but you forced yourself to nod. It’ll be worth the wait, you tried to convince yourself. 

The tension in the air was palpable as Connor emerged from the bedroom, rolling up the sleeves of his button-up. Your gaze traveled up his forearms, taking in every inch of exposed skin. He had the same idea, and his eyes raked over the hem of the dress that danced across your thighs as you shifted your weight from foot to foot.

You forced yourself to look away as you moved to grab your car keys and tossed them to Connor. “Ready?” you questioned, ignoring the way your heart was practically bursting out of your chest from the way he was looking at you. 

“Always,” Connor responded, kissing your forehead as he passed and grabbing your hand to lead you to the elevator. 

You eyed the emergency stop button as you stood far too close to Connor in the cramped elevator. No one would even notice the elevator was stopped for a few minutes, you reasoned.  

Ding!

The chime of the elevator caused you to nearly jump out of your skin, and Connor shot you a look. 

“Are you feeling okay? Your heart rate has been high ever since we left; we don’t have to go to the movie—” 

“No!” you cut him off, even though every fiber of your being was begging you to drag him back into your apartment. “I’m fine,” you assured him, resting your hand on his arm and keeping it there for far longer than you should have. 

He raised a brow, eyeing you. You ignored him and led him out to your car before hopping in the passenger seat. 

Connor wordlessly hopped into the driver’s seat, and you watched him. You wondered if the long week apart was affecting him as much as it was affecting you. You saw how he was practically undressing you with his eyes when he came home. His usual precise movements were far more controlled than they usually were, stiffening every time your skin came into contact with his. It couldn’t hurt to test the waters. 

Connor always set his right hand on the gear shift or your thigh when he was driving, and today was no exception. He loosely gripped the gear shift as he drove, gaze never leaving the road. A wise decision. 

You took his hand and placed it on its normal spot on your thigh. He glanced over at you. You could’ve sworn you saw his free hand tighten on the steering wheel, betraying the small smile that flashed across his lips.

A few minutes of comfortable silence pass, and you decide to push your luck a little further. 

“Are these pants new?” you causally questioned as you leaned over and ran a hand down his upper thigh, giving him a perfect view down the bodice of your dress. 

Connor cleared his throat and swallowed hard, “They’re the same pants I always wear.” 

You hum and move to return to your seat, your hand accidentally grazing over the place you wanted so badly. Connor sucked in a breath as he approached the red light. You grinned, bathed in crimson. 

“Connor,” you purred, lolling your head to the side to look at him. The light turned green and he pressed on the accelerator, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. His eyes grazed the bare skin of your thighs before returning to the road. 

Your heart rate picked up as Connor turned down a side street in the opposite direction of the movie theater. You weren’t going to make your showing.

Connor’s movements were controlled as he picked a secluded spot to park. You were on him before he could even fully pull the keys out of the ignition, clumsily climbing over the center console. 

The keys tumbled out of Connor’s hand and clattered to the floorboard, but he didn’t seem to care as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. He pushed the seat back so you could comfortably sit, legs straddling his thighs and skirt hiked up just enough to tease him. 

“Couldn’t wait,” you murmured against his lips as you pulled away, your breaths entangling in one another. 

“You’ve been looking forward to this movie all week,” Connor teased, running a hand up the bare skin of your thigh and cupping the curve of your ass. 

You dipped down and hovered next to his ear, whispering, “I’ve also been looking forward to riding you until you short-circuit.” 

Connor’s grip tightened on your ass, and he shoved your hips down to grind against him. The tent in his pants pressed against your clothed core and caused a shudder to run through your body. 

 “Do you feel what you do to me?” he questioned, voice husky and increasing the ache in your core that had gained intensity since you left the apartment. 

You nodded, leaning down to kiss him and run a hand over his covered length. Connor jutted his hips up to meet you, groaning as you ran a hand over the smooth fabric of his pants. His nails raked up your thighs and he hooked his fingers on the waistband of your underwear and tugged hard enough for the side seams to rip, and for them to fall in his lap. 

Your gasp was quickly swallowed by his lips against yours and his fingers sliding through your folds and circling your clit. Breathy moans escaped you as you shoved your head in the crook of his neck, lazily pressing kisses to the hardly exposed skin. 

He ran a finger over your entrance and you pressed against him, begging for him to fill you. He obliged, slowly inching a finger inside of you before quickly adding another, stretching you deliciously. He pumped his fingers, savoring the way you clenched around him, aching for more. He curled his fingers inside of you, brushing against the spot that had you seeing stars, and you cried out his name, throwing your head back. 

“Fuck me,” you whimpered, grinding yourself against his fingers when he stopped his movements. “Please, Connor.” 

He removed his fingers and slipped them past your lips, making you taste yourself. You ran your tongue over the pads of his fingers as you met his gaze. He used his free hand to undo his belt, the smooth leather brushing against your thighs. 

You reached down to where your hips met, unbuttoning his pants and yanking down the zipper, impatience coursing through you. You released his length from his pants, eliciting a breathy sigh from Connor. You pumped your hand, thumb sliding over his tip and spreading the bead of precum that had formed. 

You aligned him with your entrance and you both groaned as you lowered yourself onto his length, savoring the way he stretched you. You started rocking against him, flushing as the suspension of your car squeaked with your movements. 

Connor gathered the skirt of your dress in one hand and watched as you ground against him. You dipped down to kiss him, reaching up to rest one of your hands against his throat. He twitched from within you, and he snapped his hips to meet yours. 

“So good for me,” you praise, squeezing his throat lightly as he looked up at you, eyes unfocused and mouth hanging open. 

His hands found your clit and resumed the same tight circles as before. You released your hold on his throat as you rocked your hips into his, feeling the familiar heat pooling in your stomach. 

It took no time for your release to hit you, Connor’s length finding the spot that had you moaning his name over and over again. Your release caused you to squeeze Connor’s cock, pushing him to finish directly after you. Connor lifted his hips to meet yours, and threw his head back, letting out a guttural moan. His whole body froze and tensed under you as his climax washed over him. Connor twitched inside of you as you slowed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

After a few moments, when his eyes still hadn’t opened, you brushed a finger over his chest, relief washing over you when you felt the familiar thrumming of his bioregulator. 

“Connor?” you murmured, tapping his cheek lightly. “You alright?” 

His lashes fluttered as he slowly opened his eyes, a small smile curving into his features.  “Did I say how much I missed you?” he hummed, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“No,” you mentioned, chucking, “although, I think I have an idea.”

#detroit become human #rk800 x you #dbh x reader #dbh connor #rk800 x reader #dbh rk800 #rk800 x reader smut #connor x reader smut #connor x reader #reader insert #zilla answers

[vpgoldenrod]

Aziraphale's Haunted Look: On Being Forcibly Outed and Exiled From The Garden

While we're all talking about Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss, I'm surprised by those who thought Aziraphale looked disgusted because that's not an emotion I'd seen in him at all. There's sadness, and confusion, and anger, but I couldn't remember seeing disgust. When I watched the scene again I realized there's something else going on that really struck a chord with me. It's an uncomfortably familiar look.

He feels exposed. And I know what it feels like to be exposed in such a violent and intimate way.

Stay with me, I promise this is relevant to my analysis.

I didn't know what being transgender meant when I was a kid. Being raised in a fundamentalist Christian house meant that I wasn't exposed to those ideas, so I lived my life feeling like something was always just kind of broken. It was like I was looking right through the problem at other things, trying to alleviate symptoms without understanding why they existed in the first place. I eventually met other trans people, who gently nudged me in the direction of my truth. I even became aware that I had experienced some minor dysphoria. Every time I came close to acknowledging the truth however, my eyes would once again begin to glaze over the problem. I always managed to subconsciously shove it back into a little box and move on with my life. It was like I accidentally “did a big miracle” and hid this truth from myself so well that I continually forgot it was there.

Til one day I had an encounter that changed everything.

We're friends now but oddly enough, it was only meant to be a fling. I won't go into too many details because it's not just my story, but it was a lovely time that culminated with us meeting and doing what adults do. The person I was with, a cis man, silently clocked me the minute we were face to face. For reasons I now understand, without warning and in the middle of our shared intimate experience, he decided to talk dirty to me as if I were a gay man.

No one had ever spoken to me like that before. It had never occurred to me to ask anyone to do that, or that anyone would want to. I was in an intimate space and filled with the typical emotions and endorphins one has during sex, but it was a fling. I had walls up. So for the first time in my life, in this incredibly vulnerable position, someone grabbed me by my lapels and forced me to face a deep truth about myself that I'd spent decades silently dancing around. It was a blunt, irrefutable truth and it hit like a sucker punch to the solar plexus. He saw me when I was very much not trying to be seen, and there's few things more terrifying than that.

Even now, years later, I have such a hard time putting into words the overwhelming emotions I felt that night. There were so many, and yet somehow I can see every single one of the emotions I felt in Aziraphale's face when Crowley lets him go. My heart breaks all over again seeing how exposed he felt. He can barely make eye contact until he stumbles onto the one emotion that gives him his agency back: anger.

Gabriel shows up to the bookshop completely naked. When a bewildered Aziraphale points it out Gabriel says, “Who told you I was naked?”

But that's not how the story goes.

God looks for Adam in the garden, but he hides from her. He eventually tells God, “I heard your voice in the garden and I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid myself.”

Then God asks Adam, “Who told you you were naked?” And of course Adam knows he is naked because he ate the apple.

I've made jokes about Crowley being the apple that bit Aziraphale, but I forgot the bit that happens afterwards. He is aware of his own nakedness. He is exposed. To God, to Crowley, and to himself. As a result he is exiled from the safety of his Eden. Man, if this isn't the perfect analogy for being forcibly outed I don't know what is.

This show is so gay you guys.

#michael sheen deserves an emmy and also a hug #good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #do it again #neil gaiman #good omens analysis #amazon prime video #pay your actors #good omens spoilers #michael sheen #LGBT+

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

omg that don fic was amazing!!!! could you write another smutty one please? 🥹🫶🏻

your wish is my command so I present to you nothing but Don and his lovely hands

Piano Man

Jack's Don Hume x reader

wc: 4,000

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: fingering, oral, riding Don, Don trying to be bossy, minors do not interact lest I have to water board you

Enjoy this garbage!

Don Hume always had gorgeous hands. They had elegant curves and dignified bones and moved so forcefully yet gracefully. And he was downright intentional in his every use of them. 

He always had immaculate technique when rowing, perfectly executing every twist and pull of the oar. He was a most excellent pianist and could play almost any piece he wanted. He had beautiful handwriting. If there was anything that had to do with hands, Don could do it. Better than most.

You know this to be true. 

Mostly because you felt them on you.

It happened the night of their first win. The boys dragged poor Don on stage and made him play. The simple then was too humble for him but he was nervous. Once it was over and he was allowed to leave the stage, he made a point of sitting on the same bench you were. By himself. Just a few feet away. 

“Congratulations on your big win, Don.” You scoot closer so he can hear you. His face drains of color. He’d always thought you pretty but that’s exactly what made him shy. Too shy to ever really make a move or even talk to you outside of your shared classes. 

“Th-thanks.” He stutters and jams two fingers between his throat and his collar, trying to swallow down the lump of nerves choking him.

“I had no idea you played the piano.” 

“Oh yeah, I uh…” 

You keep talking to him, and he keeps responding. The people on the dance floor become a blur in his peripheral and the music is a jumble of white noise. He doesn’t even notice the boys pointing and shouting excitedly at seeing Don talking. They would come looking for him eventually, thinking he was dancing with you in a secluded corner, but by that time Don would be long gone.

Walking you home had turned into a kiss on the cheek to the full enclosure of lips. He was so dizzy. So unable to comprehend the earnestness in the kiss until you grabbed the lapels of his suit coat and pressed him to the door. “Maybe you should come inside?” Your whisper against his lips makes his vision spin. He’s half worried he’ll pass out on you but that doesn’t stop his eager nod. 

Your hand closes around the brass doorknob and you twist. Don is met with the sensation of falling. But he’s weightless; he hardly feels the stumble and scuff of his shoes. The door closes and locks and it’s just you and Don away from prying eyes. Something happens that Don cannot explain. His initial shyness dissipates; and he finds himself tugging you onto his lap when you collapse onto the bed. 

Your dress skirt, soft as silk over his rough knuckles, sweeps up your thighs as he wanders. He distracts you with kisses as his fingertips brush the hem of your tights. They trail over and find the seam, tracing downwards towards the gusset. One of Don’s tentative fingers rubs over the gusset. There’s a slight dampness over the puffy labia and his fingertip lingers. Gentle swipes of the digit tease your slit; his touch is just light enough to map out the ridges and valleys of your core. He graduates to two fingers pushing through the growing wet patch. He enjoys the huffs and gasps against his lips, drinking them down to fuel his newfound confidence. 

You’re busy too. You undo his tie and fling it onto the nightstand. The buttons of his halfheartedly ironed shirt come next, exposing the scape of his alabaster skin. When your hands touch his bare chest, he flushes all the way down to his clavicles. Your touch is so cloud-light he’d miss it if he wasn’t so intensely absorbed in the moment. You break apart just so you can look down while you explore him. 

He thinks it’s the first time he’s ever been touched like this, by someone who has more care than greed. It’s not hasty or ravaging, the way some others had been before you. Where theirs was trying to get in and out of his pants, yours is trying breach something deeper than just his body. Don had never felt this before. This tingling in his muscles and nervous that resonated from the places your skin meets. How his heart hammers and blood rushes in his ears. He’s tempted to let you strip him down and take him apart like he’s done so many other nights. But he can’t. Tonight, cannot be those other nights because you are not those other women.

Don bunches up your dress in his fist and yanks it over your head. He takes note of the goosebumps rising on your skin from the kiss of the cold air and he brings you in closer. Hot breaths puff over your cheeks as he rubs over the gusset more seriously, fervently. 

“Don—”

His name passing through lips is like the call of a beloved memory, of a favorite song over the radio coming to life on a piano’s keys. He remembers hearing you say it for the first time when you met up in the library for a group project. “You’re Don, right?” That melodic “aw” was beautiful in your mouth. It became ingrained in the folds of his brain as he heard it again and again until that sound could pluck his heartstring when it rattled his ears.

And you had no fucking idea just how deep it ran. 

You’re pushing at his shirt now, wanting it off him so you could know more of him. He allows you this because it’s only fair. And also, because he’s addicted to the zap of connection. He calls your name back as he applies more pressure through his fingers. You’re dripping now and shifting uncomfortably in those tights. Time to get you out of them. 

Don slips his arms around you, bundling you up as he swaps your places and gracefully lays you down. He fixes a kiss to your lips as he works the tights down your thighs, over your knees, and off your ankles. His kiss slides from your lips to the underside of your jaw and begins to travel down your throat. He moves to slide a finger through your folds only to find a paper-thin strip of lace keeping him from you. 

He pulls away and stares down in shock. He hadn’t even noticed them. How had he not noticed them? They’re frilly and black and coordinate with your bra; you’ve put on a matching set just for him. You’d planned on bedding him long before he’d gotten the balls to kiss you. 

“Everything okay?” You ask, hips canting upwards. 

“Yeah, yeah—” he’s just speechless.  The longer he thinks about it, he realizes he’s always been the one to initiate things. He had never considered that someone would want him back enough to actually plan ahead. He’s never actually seen lingerie before, and he feels stupid and inexperienced for it. He should say something so that the silence doesn’t stretch for too long. “You might just be too pretty for—”

“Oh, don’t even start with that.” Your legs settle around his waist, “You don’t hear half the things people say about you, women in particular.” 

“They talk about me?”

“All the time. Usually about how cute you are. Or how strong you look. And sometimes, about these beautiful hands of yours.” You lift his hand and suck two of his fingers into your mouth. 

Don gapes at you. As you suckle at his digits, he absentmindedly makes a pass over your clit with his free hand. You gasp as he slips one fingertip under the lace and drags it through the sticky slick. As your mouth opens wider, he pushes his fingers further across the velvety expanse of your tongue, pressing down on at the back of your throat.

You don’t choke.

Good hell, you don’t even gag. His fingers are sunk to the third knuckles, and you hardly react save for your fluttering eyelids and belabored breaths. He’s hypnotized by the sucking sensation and flow of saliva and the scrubbing of tastebuds. He dreams of stuffing his painfully hard cock into your mouth and prays you’d be able to deep throat him even further. 

Shit, if he keeps going on like this in his head he’s going to cum in his pants.

Don musters up enough sense of mind to tug his fingers free of your drooling mouth. He takes your jaw into his wet grip and lays a vigorous kiss on your lips. Meanwhile, his other fingers trace your clenching entrance and tease the gushing hole. In that bleak, dead quietness of night he can hear it; he can hear the faint squelch of his finger pushing in and stretching you out. You whimper against his lips. Your sweaty palms ball up along the rise of his spine. 

After he’s done bruising your lips, he strips your drenched panties off and shuffles off the foot of your bed. He drags you down until your feet hang off the edge and your cunt is set before him. 

A real delicacy you are. 

Slick strings across your folds and clinging to your most pleasurable spots. One careful stroke parts your folds so he can put it in again, carving along your walls. Each careful push and pull of his finger ricochets from nerve to nerve like wildfire and leaves your chest heaving. He begins to meticulously unravel your stroke by stroke. 

Patient, he needs to be patient. He remembers spending hours and hours practicing the piano as a child and into his teen years. How that progress took so much time and patience. Sometimes he’d felt so frustrated he’d wanted to rip the pages out of his piano books, but he knew that wouldn’t make him a better player.

Similarly, rushing this night just to get an unsatisfying but instantly gratifying high won’t make him a better lover. At least, not the kind he wants to be. He recognizes that keeping you means showing you a good enough time that you want it from him again. That you need to be just as hooked on his every breath as he is on yours. 

“Want another—” 

Your airy cry rips him from his stupor. He registers the arousal dripping down the back of his hand from your pussy. His middle finger unfolds as his index finger withdraws. Two blunt fingertips greet your hole this time, wriggling past the initial tightness of your entrance and resuming his ginger pace. This is about building up, he reminds himself, his foreplay has to fulfill you but leave you desperate at the same time. 

While his fingers find a steady rhythm and pattern of thrusts, his tongue wanders out of his mouth and the very tip curiously tastes the wetness on your swollen clit. 

You choke, “Sh—it! DON!” feet scraping over the sheets as your knees come up. He’s sure he’s not giving you enough to cum but the way you react to each circle of his tongue around your clit makes him wonder if he underestimated your sensitivity. 

“Feel good?”

“So fucking good!”

This makes him grin, tongue retracting so he can place a loving kiss to your folds, “I’m glad but try to keep it down. I’d prefer to be the only one hearing you like this.” Then his tongue is back at its nagging swipes. You’re burning to the touch, pulsing against his splayed mouth, and glistening like a crystalized renaissance painting. You talk of his hands like they’re something magical and he wonders if they might just be with what they’re doing to you. It makes him proud. 

Don slows the thrust of his fingers to a maddening caress that grazes your walls like the edge of a feather. “What do you need?” Don mutters between licks. He’d tell you to beg because that’s what he really wants but he doesn’t know how far he can push you and he’d rather play it safe than sorry. Patience, care, and tact, he tells himself. Tonight must be handled delicately.

“Wan’ you.”

In a moment of ego Don breaks away with a wet pop, “I know, sweetheart, but you’re going to have to do a little better than that.”

You whine and nudge him with your ankle, but Don doesn’t budge. He simply returns to his shallow thrusts and slow, sloppy kisses. He figures you’ll give in and, “You said to be quiet.” You complain.

“Bullshi-that’s not what I meant!” In a way you’re not wrong but he did not expect attitude, “and complaining won’t get you anywhere.” He withdraws his fingers entirely, leaving his only his lips to soothe your burning skin. 

You chuff unhappily and thread your fingers through his hair, “Want you in me, Don, ‘ve been wanting it for a while.”

Finally. 

“Why didn’t you say so?” 

You’d love to get smart with him and slap the smirk off his lips but he’s undeniable cute in his smugness. It doesn’t help that you find his secretly darndest behavior very much attractive. You would have never guessed this about him; that he would be so authoritative when intimate when his mellow demeanor had blindsided you. 

Don dusts kisses up your tummy and breasts as he moves the both of you back up the bed. His knees dig into the mattress as he kneels, pulling you up to straddle him. Chest to chest, you wrap your arms around each other in a sweaty embrace. The bedframe rattles slightly and you can see the midnight sky out of your window now. You wonder when the dance ends and pray that it’s not soon so you can take your time with him. Or more likely, so he can take his sweet time with you. 

“We can stop if you want?” You must have been staring out the window for a moment too long because when you look back at Don, there’s concern filling his shadowed eyes. Nighttime is just as pretty on him as afternoon sun on his shoulders as he rows or the warm stage lights as he plays. He probably thought he overstepped. 

“You’re gorgeous, Don.” 

Even in the dim moonlight you can see his blush. The red blooms swallowing up his freckles and erasing his nervousness. “Where do you find the gall to be so blatant?” It’s a genuine question, he’s never been able to be so flatly open about what he thinks. He’s always marveled at the people who can 

 At some point he must have shed his pants because you realize that he’s bare beneath. A happy trail of dark downy hair winds down his navel. Then there’s his erection, where the rest of his body is pale as porcelain, his leaking cock is ruby red and glistening with a rivulet of precum streaming down the underside. 

He guides himself to your entrance and replaces his arm around your waist. “Tell me if you need a moment.” He his head tilts forward, forehead pressing against yours, eyes sweeping over your face.  He pushes his throbbing tip into your entrance and sucks in a huge breath. You both clutch each other tighter, fighting off moans as he works himself in. His eyes have fluttered closed and his jaw his clenched painfully. 

He bottoms out, thighs flush with yours, and sighs mightily as you relax around him. You cup his face to keep your foreheads together. He resolves that you must like this proximity then. That you like it enough kiss him hard and drain away his composure. Before he can lose too much, Don’s arms flex, his abbs tensing as he drags you up his cock and then drops you back onto it. Two strained cries echo off each other. He does it again, again, bouncing you on his lap. You grip his shoulders for better support; your nails digging into his sun-bitten skin. “Don, baby—” 

“Holy f-fuck!” His voice breaks into your mouth as he slots your lips together. Earlier he’d been drunk on the pulse of your cunt against his tongue but now that it’s surrounding him, he feels helpless. A ringing fills his ears, he squeezes his eyes shut, and his entire body clenches up as he slams you down harder. His hands splay over your waist and are probably bruising you but both of you are too absorbed. At some point you’re done kissing, but your lips stay brushing each other, open mouthed and utterly consumed in a mind-melting pleasure. 

Sweat trickles down Don’s face. His hair is a mess from your fingers raking through it and he’s flushed from the tip of his nose to his belly. While he’s on the border of knocking himself out, you find it in you to slip your hands off his shoulders, trusting his strength, and bring your uncoordinated fingers to his chest. Don practically screams when your fingertips graze his pert nipples. His back bows into you, pushing his chest into your hands. He nearly loses his balance. You pinch them, hard, and Don has no choice but to drop one hand to the mattress and lean away from you. In this position, you’ve got enough leverage to ride him yourself, bringing your hips down to meet his thrusts. And no matter how Don seems to squirm, he can’t escape your mean fingers. Then you’re bending down, and your lips wrap around the sensitive bud. 

Don is beside himself. What is he supposed to do? You drooling pussy is swallowing him every heartbeat and your tongue and lips are ravaging his chest. He feels a low pulsing deep in his stomach and knows he has to stop this now. The remaining hand on your waist travels up your spine and tangles in the roots of your hair. He pulls. Your lips pop off his chest and you peel away from him. He must not let tonight go like those other nights. He reminds himself.

“If I remember right, I’m supposed to be treating the lady.” Don sits back up which forces you to slow your pace, your balance off kilter now. 

“You were.” 

“Turn around.” There’s newfound resolve in Don’s eyes and you want to test it, but you can sense his restraint. He’s been playing nice for most of the night probably. “I’d rather not ask again.” You listen to the bite in his words and climb off him. Once you’re on your hands and knees, Don takes your hips in his hands. You feel his tip at your entrance again. He bottoms out in a single thrust this time and decides to show you a bit of the endurance he’s been able to pick up. 

You were right about him holding back earlier because now he’s truly fucking you. And he’s doing it just right, hard enough that your walls spasm and clench but not so hard that it hurts. He’s managing to tiptoe the border of pain and pleasure. His chest (still wet with your saliva) presses to your back as he adjusts himself. A hand has returned to your hair, guiding your head up and back so he has access to your throat. Briefly you wonder if all those girls who talked about his body and hands knew anything at all about his mouth. Maybe you’d keep it as a coveted secret. 

The sound of it all is absolutely ludicrous. His hips bruising your ass creating a sharp smacking sound. Occasionally the sound of his lips sucking at your neck. But worst of all are those moans he’d told you to keep to just his ears. You can’t help it. He’s efficiently fucked himself into your head well enough to keep you hooked on his every move and careless to the outside world. 

“All you wanna do is talk about how pretty I am but you forget yourself.”

Don’s voice has picked up a rasp. He may have incredible stamina, but his care is costing him. Each squeeze of your walls is bringing him closer to an edge he’s not ready for. He needs you to cum first which is why he had to abandon the softer sex because he’s too prone to the intimacy. He’d have been finished minutes ago if he hadn’t pulled you off him. 

“You’ve got no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to do this. How many times Bobby’s had to curse me out for letting me mind out of that boat, or how many times I miss lecture notes because I can’t take my eyes off you, or many damn times I fall asleep to thoughts of you and wake with cum in my pants. Fuck you! Fuck you for making me like this! What the hell!”

Then comes that victorious moment when he feels your whole body tense up. 

“You gonna cum? Gonna fuckin’ cum for me? That’s right! C’mon, let go. I’ve got you.”

Don let’s go of your hair and cradles you to his chest as he holds his pace steady. A shudder racks your body and you let out a strangled moan as the blinding hot heat washes over you. You go silent, drool pooling on your bedsheets, cum gushing as you squeeze the life out of him. Your head spins, body becoming light, it shocks you to the core.

“Baby! Baby!” Don pleads into your ear. He’s gonna cum, he swears it’s taking his everything not to. “Sweetheart!” 

You vaguely register him begging you for something, reaching a shaky hand to clutch his forearm. 

“Where do you want me?” He sounds like he’s going to cry. 

“Please!”

“—please!”

He doesn’t know what to do. He should probably pull out but then what. He doesn’t have enough time to think too hard. He jerks away and falls back on the bed. His rough hand, much less favorable to your gummy soft walls, strokes rapidly over his cock. He wails and grips himself too tight but then he’s cumming, hot spurts of white seed splattering on his torso. 

Both of you stay frozen in place, shaking from your orgasms. Don recovers enough to reach a now clumsy hand for your waist and roll you over. Your eyes a shut tight and you’re breathing hard. Your thighs quiver and close as the cold night air chills your body. He knows it’s probably time to leave. The party should be ending soon, and your roommates will be back. 

He soothes a hand over your thigh before getting up to open the windows. He cleans his cum off his stomach the best he can and then scoops you up into his arms. “Donny.” You curl into him, and it breaks Don’s heart. He really just wants to stay right here but he can’t.

“I know,” He strokes your hair and kisses your forehead. For the first time he feels truly satisfied. He feels loved and like this is how it’s meant to be. And it’s only reaffirmed when straighten up and kiss his balmy cheek.

“Promise me we’ll do this again.”

“Swear on my stroke seat.” Don murmurs, sharing a tender kiss with you.  He feels you smile and congratulates himself on the accomplishing his goal. “You need to get cleaned up. Your friends will probably be back soon.”

You sigh and slowly extract yourself from his arms. You open your wardrobe as Don redresses himself. “You really mean you’ll come back.” 

“Truthfully, I wasn’t intent on leaving at all, but these dorms—” he trails off. It’s a curse for everyone he supposes. Once he looks suitable for going out, Don hugs you one last time. His forehead rests on yours, a position he must like, and he gives you another soft kiss. “See you tomorrow in geology?” He asks, sweeping the hair out of your face. 

“Only if I can walk to class.” 

“C’mon now, you said you’d tell me if I went too hard.”

“It wasn’t too hard. It was perfect. You’re perfect. Now get out before anyone sees you.”

“By the way, I’ve got about an hour between geology and English, we should you know—”

“Out, Don.”

…

Masterlist

#boys in the boat #don hume #don hume x reader #smut #mdni

[thewritingisconsumingme]

borrowing clothes

summary: johnny wants tomas to shower before getting in his bed

warnings: suggestive :)

Tomas buried his face into the blankets on Johnny’s bed and relished in the softness of the silk sheets and the however many count thread blanket Johnny had purchased. There was never this sort of luxury and softness at the Lin Kuei, especially considering that they were supposed to live humble lives with only the threadbare essentials. It was a rule the previous Grandmaster had instilled to keep the Lin Kuei assassins humble and to remind them to never grow too comfortable. As much as Tomas appreciated the rule, the hard bottom beds and rough sheets and blankets had rubbed Tomas’s skin raw and grated on his nerves.

“Hey! Change out of your dirty clothes before getting all cozy with my bed!”

Tomas looked up to find Johnny’s face adorned with a frown, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and his hip cocked to one side. Tomas let his head flop back down into the sheets, unwilling to part with the soft heaven that was this bed.

“I didn’t bring a change of clothes.” Tomas mumbled into the bed, burying his fingers under the silk pillow sheets and curling a little further into the bed.

“Come on. You can borrow some of my clothes.” Johnny sighed and tugged at the assassin’s arm. Tomas’s head perked up at the offer.

“And take a shower! These sheets were expensive!” Johnny whined, fully pulling and dragging Tomas out of the bed now. The assassin laughed and grabbed onto Johnny’s arm, dragging him into the bed and bringing their lips together. Caging Johnny underneath his body, Tomas pressed Johnny into the bed and kissed his boyfriend. Johnny wiggled a bit but eventually melted into the kiss and tugged at the lapels of Tomas’s assassins. After a few seconds, Tomas lifted himself off to look at his work. The actor now had a dazed look in his eyes, and his cheeks were dusted a light pink.

“As much as I would love to continue the make-out sesh, I still need you to change, babe. I was not kidding when I said these sheets were expensive.” Johnny wiggled in Tomas’s grip, and Tomas sighed and reluctantly slid off the bed.

“Okay okay. I'll change.” Tomas waited for Johnny to get out of the bed, and the actor excitedly led him to the walk-in closet. Flinging open the doors, Johnny perused through his extensive collection of pajamas as Tomas ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at the variety of clothes. He let his fingers run over the clothes, taking in the soft textures of the clothing. Johnny truly did not skimp on any of his clothing. Not that Tomas expected him to. It was Johnny Cage after all.

“Here!” Johnny shoved some clothing into Tomas’s hands and pushed him to the bathrooms before Tomas could have a good look at the pajamas.

“I’ll be waiting for you!” Johnny then promptly closed the door to the bathroom. Tomas blinked at the door at Johnny’s sudden exit. The assassin had expected some smart remark about the clothing and had even expected Johnny to join him in the shower. Tomas looked down at the clothing that was neatly folded in his hands and decided to unfold it to see what Johnny seemed so excited about.

Suddenly, it made a lot more sense. The clothing was skimpy and would show off Tomas’s physique. The bottoms might as well be considered a thong, and the top was just a sleeveless crop top with a generous boob window. And it was Johnny’s clothing. Johnny’s skimpy clothing that he purchased and wore.

Tomas took a cold shower.

Emerging from the bathroom, Tomas tried his best not to look phased, but he was sure that the flush across his cheeks showed differently. He had looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting the cloth, which despite its tightness still managed to feel like heaven against his skin, until he was satisfied with how he looked. Johnny sat on the bed and was leaning back on his hands and very clearly enjoying the view he had in front of him.

“How do I look?” Tomas gave a little spin for Johnny, and the actor just grinned at him.

“Come here baby.” Johnny motioned for Tomas to come over. The assassin rolled his eyes, but obliged happily and collapsed into Johnny’s arms, knocking the two of them over so that Johnny laid flat on the bed. The actor wrapped his arms around Tomas’s back, tracing his hands along the defined musculature, and Tomas brought his face down so that his lips and Johnny’s were only millimeters apart.

“Now can we continue kissing?” Tomas asked. Johnny just smiled and used one of his hands to cradle the back of Tomas’s head and close the distance between them while his other hand groped at Tomas’s back.

The sheets were dirty by the end of the night.

#fluffuary 2024 #fluff #noodle's writings #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat #cagesmoke #johnny cage #johnny cage mk1 #smoke #smoke mk1 #tomas vrbada #johnny cage x smoke #smoke x johnny cage

[vestaclinicpod]

Audio Drama Sunday - 17th March ✨

I’m back! I’ve been cursed by something and life keeps trying to really kill the vibe but I’m back!! Happy Audio Drama Sunday, everyone! ✨

👻 @tellnotalespod (S2E5.5) Ough, Riley! This is not good. They may be (pretending to be) fine but I’m not!! Absolutely fuming at the sequence of events that has separated Riley from the only person who can handle them and vice versa 😮‍💨

🌲 @hellofromthehallowoods (143) season 4 is gripping me by the lapels, screaming “do you UNDERSTAND?!” In my face while I stammer that I am not sure if I understand. I LOVE it though. It’s so fun listening to show where you can trust the creator to take risks and know that it will pay off if you pay attention and keep your red string handy. I love the idea that the god of change and rebirth is affecting the actual narrative - it’s so cool! Though, I want to grab Marolmar by the antlers and fling him somewhere nasty. If Nikignik gets (more) hurt, there will be blood. 

🧳 Travelling Light @monstrousproductions (15) hehe frogs 🐸. My wife can attest that I actually went ‘oh, no!’ out loud when I twigged where the little guys had come from! Oh, Traveller, what are we going to do with you? 

🎙 Not only did I have the immense pleasure of seeing The Attic live show this week, the new WTNV episode was so fun as well!! I’m so glad Kevin is back…

♦️@grottopod (6) Aaaah!!! Emily!! They have to get them back together?!! What does that MEAN??!! 

⚔️ @camlannpod (5) TURN ON YOUR LOCATION, COWARDS. Waaaah I just want to talk about how this episode hit us with the ‘you are in charge of your own destiny, your story can be changed’ then with a reminder that ‘there is no version of this story which doesn’t have a good ending’ BUT wHAt if he’s making one!!?!?!? I feel for Dai SO much but I really truly believe that the power of love is going to win !!! The Green Knight has just broken the radio so we don’t get to hear his long lecture about how to be a better boyfriend. 

🖥️ The Magnus Protocol (10) that was creepy as all hell. Absolutely hated that, actually. The first time in ages that I've thought about a podcast character with fear before turning out the light 😬

⚓️ The beloved eelers of @eelerschoice were back with a very fun Q+A episode. My main impression was how dARE anyone tell Lou that ey cannot write music??? Who is this person?? Feed them to the eels!!!! 

🍎 I finished @notquitedeadpod S2 these past few weeks which was GRIPPING as hell. I listened to the Q+A today and I have to say that it’s one of my fave Q+As ever, there was so much genuine thought and detail put into the answers. I can only dream of producing such a coherent, interesting response to any question about my own work! SO excited for S3, especially given that we're about to get into the vampire science!!!! let's gooo!!! 

Feel free to join me in manifesting a good week!! A huge thank you to everyone who's making these shows (and others!) which I love so much. There's nothing better than sticking on some headphones and escaping life for a while and I've needed that more than usual recently! 

#audio drama sunday #podcast recs #tell no tales #hfth spoilers #travelling light #eeler's choice #not quite dead #tmagp #camlann #the grotto #wtnv

[workingforitallthetime]

drawn arrows unseen

part 19 / previous installments/tags

Mason vibrates in his stall through the postgame routine, every muscle in his body tense with impatience and anticipation. He showers off as quickly as he can and yanks on his suit. As he charges out the doors of the dressing room, he pictures the ice and where the home team entered, calculating the quickest way to Connor.

But Connor’s already standing there waiting for him outside the visitor’s dressing room, leaning against a cinderblock wall painted in Arizona State colors. His hair is still damp from the shower. His gameday suit matches his eyes and the top button of his collar is open, no tie.

Mason keeps charging straight toward him and doesn’t stop until he’s got Connor shoved against the wall. He buries his face in Connor’s neck, sucking in great greedy gulps of his scent.

Connor’s body goes pliant underneath him, pinned between Mason and the cinderblocks. He whines high in his throat, so soft that only Mason can hear. Something else reverberates through the roaring in Mason’s ears: the thunk of the gate closing behind him after a long hard shift, the latch slamming cleanly into place as Mason sinks panting onto the bench.

Dimly, Mason remembers that this is why he stayed away. The possibility that he would do exactly what he’s doing right now, regardless of who might see or what the consequences might be. But Connor’s scent is going melty again, warm and wanting, and Mason’s way past caring what anyone who’s not Connor thinks.

Connor twists a hand in Mason’s hair. “Let’s go,” he gasps, prodding Mason to one side. He grabs the lapel of Mason’s jacket and pulls him down the tunnel. Mason follows him, nearly running, until Connor takes a quick turn into some kind of ice level suite.

It doesn’t look to have been used for tonight’s game. Once the door closes behind them, the only light in the room comes from behind a Sun Devil logo above the buffet table. The chafing dishes on the table are open and empty and a stack of unused plates waits at the end.

Before Mason can take in anything else, Connor’s flinging himself at him. Finally, finally Mason’s kissing him, deep and insatiable, Connor’s scent rising all around him. He rips shirttails out and buttons off to get his hands against Connor’s skin, to get Connor pressed against him, nothing keeping them apart anymore.

He hitches up Connor’s leg and scrapes his fingernails over the back seam of his trousers. Connor moans against his lips. “I didn’t think…” He tips his head back, opening his neck to Mason.

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Mason murmurs as he kisses his way along the line of Connor’s jaw.

Connor's neck tenses. “You… knew about this?” he asks after a moment. There’s confusion in his voice.

Mason thrills at the word, at the confirmation that they’re a this, that Connor recognizes it too.  “Yeah.” He scrapes his teeth against Connor’s neck. “Your scent, god, Connor…”

Connor brings his chin down, dislodging Mason. “How long have you known?”

Mason gives him a puzzled look. “World Juniors.”

“Which one?” Connor asks it cautiously, like he’s not entirely sure he wants the answer.

“The… first one?” Mason answers just as cautiously.

Connor’s scent goes brittle, hardening into ice that’s cold enough to make Mason’s skates skid and squeak. “You knew about this and you didn’t tell me?”

Mason reaches out to cup the back of Connor’s head. “Of course I didn’t, you were…”

Connor ducks out from under his hand. “You let me think I was out there alone? For a year?”

Mason takes a step back, hands in the air. “You were sixteen, I…”

“Do you have any idea…” Connor presses his hands against the side of his head and bends over. When he looks up, his expression is furious. “I went into heat and it fucking sucked.” He’s yelling now. “Everything smelled like shit.”

“I’m sorry, I…” All of Mason’s instincts are telling him to hold onto Connor, but Connor doesn’t look like he’d welcome it. “Your draft, I couldn’t just…”

“You asshole.” Connor takes a step toward him, but it’s just to shove Mason, hard, with both hands against his chest. “How am I supposed to trust you?” He turns on his heel toward the door of the suite.

Mason’s stomach turns over. “You can’t just leave, we’re…” They’re together now, and everything’s supposed to be okay. Mason suffered and endured and waited patiently, and now everything’s supposed to be okay.

Connor looks over his shoulder at him. “I can do anything you can,” he spits, and then he’s gone.

Mason’s knees buckle. It hurts, physically hurts, like the worst broken bone he’s ever had, a systems failure triggering every alarm in his body. He falls to his knees, retching, and that’s where Trevor and Jamie find him a little while later, Connor’s scent still all over his clothes.

(next)

#drawn arrows unseen

[floralflorence]

POV: Lo and Reg don't realise Leo and Finn are on facetime to O'Darwin and they see more than they bargained for (consequently traumatising Lo and Reg in the process).

Reg barely had time to ensure he'd locked the car before Logan was tugging on the lapels of his jacket; pulling him towards the front door. After fumbling with the keys for a moment, severely distracted by Lo's hands trailing under the back of his jacket, tracing the back waistband of his jeans. He shoved the door open and spun to grab Lo, pulling him inside just enough that he could fling the door shut behind him before pressing him hard up against it.

Their mouths connected desperately, tongues tangling and battling for dominance as Reg's thigh slipped between Logan's. The movement was instantly reciprocated by Lo, who began rolling his hips up while gripping Reg's hips to press him closer.

When Reg's hips ground perfectly against Lo's cock, Lo whimpered into his mouth before beginning to push him backwards towards the stairs. He gripped the collar of Reg's jacket, dragging it roughly down his arms, throwing it carelessly to the floor while Reg began fumbling with the buttons on his shirt; eventually giving up and just yanking the two panels apart - he could buy him another one later. Lo kissed down his neck, causing Reg's eyes to flutter, hand coming to cup the back of his neck and press him closer.

An embarrassingly loud whimper escaped Reg's throat when Lo's hand skimmed down his torso to grasp Reg's cock through his jeans, palming it non-too-gently.

''Fuck, fuck, fuck,'' Reg gasped, spinning them to push Lo up against the wall right next to the stairs, fingers easing his belt open, popping the button open and yanking the zipper down. He palmed Lo's hard cock through his boxers, thumb teasing along the wet patch made on the front, relishing in the articulate moan that clawed its way out Logan's mouth.

''You wanna fuck me or you wanna be fucked?'' Reg panted into Lo's lax mouth.

''Don't care, just want you closer,'' Lo whined, hands sliding down Reg's back and into the back of his jeans, squeezing his ass and tugging him towards him.

Someone cleared their throat.

''Uhm, loves?'' Leo was looking at them over the back of the sofa while Finn tried covering his laugh, the tips of his ears bright red.

Lo and Reg were both panting heavily as they faced him, confused as to why he sounded so awkward. Their answers were quickly supplied by Nat's tinny voice echoing through the speaker of where Finn had lowered his phone to be in his lap.

''Leave 'em, Knut, let 'em get some!''

Reg squeaked a mortified sound and dropped his head to rest in the crook of Lo's neck - Lo wasn't much better, covering his mouth, remembering the needy sound that definitely would've been easily heard by anyone in the room.

''We tried!'' Leo answered Nat. ''When they were coming past, we moved the phone so you couldn't see 'em but then you both,'' he turned to the boys still hovering by the stairs, ''didn't go upstairs.''

''You know,'' came Alex's voice, shakey from trying not to laugh as he spoke, ''it could be worse. It wasn't Finn, I'll take the win there.'' He seemed as though he was trying to reassure himself that he actually could look Reg and Lo in the eyes the next time he saw them.

''Bet that's one of the only times it hasn't been Finn,'' came Kasey's teasing lilt, grinning cheekily up at Alex when he pulled a face.

''Thanks for the imagery, babe, could never have lived without having that in my head...permanently...burned into my memory.''

Nat, Leo and Kase were outwardly cackling by now, dissolving into tears from it as they clutched their sides.

''On that note, we'll let you lot go and have fun. I'm feeling inspired so we're gonna go do that too,'' Nat called, matching Kasey's earlier cheeky grin when Alex grumbled something along the lines of reminding Nat it's ''my baby brother'' she's encouraging to go have sex.

They said their goodbyes, Reg and Lo's slightly muffled from where they were still stood a little bit away from the phone, their blushes still vibrant.

#lumosinlove ocs #O'Darwin #o'knutzy #o'knutzy x reg #smut #lumosinlove #leo knut #finn ohara #logan tremblay #regulus black

[professionallydeadinside]

Taking one from one of my own!

"You fucking monster. You took all of them away from me. You don't understand how I feel at all. What the hell makes you think I'll forgive you this time?"

“You fucking monster. You took all of them away from me. You don’t understand how I feel at all. What the hell makes you think I’ll forgive you this time?”

“Because you always do. And you always will. Look around.” Roshan made a sweeping motion with his hands towards the carnage surrounding them. Blood mixed with the falling rain, creating rivers that soaked into Shigeru’s pants and puddled around where he lay.

“We’re the only ones left. I’m all you have.”

Roshan gripped Shigeru’s face, forcing him to look at the red oni mask that dripped with unseen color.

Somewhere deep inside, Shigeru could see his eyes, dark and crazed.

“You’ve been left all alone to carry this burden that will only get heavier. But I can help.” Shigeru let out a noise of surprise as he was suddenly yanked up onto his knees by the lapels of his jacket. Roshan leered over him.

“Join me and together we will rule. I’ve seen your loyalty to Minegeshi and I will admit I grew envious of it. But now that he’s not there, I’m sure you’ll find the transition from him to me an easy one. Right, Kimira?”

The response was immediate. Shigeru leaned close, his weakened body trembling not from fear but of the setting cold. And he spit at the mask staring back at him.

Roshan recoiled in surprise, pausing.

“Fine.” He growled, flinging Shigeru back with a surge of anger. A loud thud sounded in the courtyard as he hit a pillar. Roshan stalked back towards him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to his feet.

“Run away my love, run away.” He whispered close to Shigeru’s neck.

Shigeru lurched away, clutching onto the walls of burning wood and sparing not a glance back to where Roshan stood as he hurried to run away.

“But don’t be surprised when I catch up.” He roared. “I’ll get you, whether you be a corpse or a slave, I’ll get you.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Shigeru tried to focus his energy on not collapsing, knowing he’ll never be shown the mercy of escape if he was ever caught by the White Death again. Roshan’s voice echoed through the crumbling halls.

“You will be mine.”

#the white death #shigeru kimura #bullet train #my writing #answered

[strangerthings4theories]

Amerikanyetz

A short oneshot based on several of my personal theories:

Billy is alive and imprisoned in a separate section of Kamchatka: the secret bunker where the Russians have been conducting their experiments with the Upside Down.

Brenner lied to El about her powers. She didn't just lose them because her brain signals got scrambled. Billy stole them somehow, and now that the Russians have him, they're experimenting on him too.

Billy's used the Void-walking ability to watch Max in Hawkins. He's tried to contact her and plead for help, but she can't hear him.

He's seen Vecna attack Max.

When Hopper opens the rusted cell door, he's not sure who—or what—he'll find inside. The Amerikanyetz, the Russians called him. Vosem. Number Eight. The documents in the lab described a being of immense strength, able to rip men in half with his bare hands. They said he could walk in between worlds as only a handful of other experiments had done.

He was more than useful to the Motherland. He was... unparalleled. More valuable than all the other numbers put together.

Since then, Hopper's wondered who this Vosem could be. He's pictured a child with a shaved head, like El in her early days. Or a barrel-chested army man with the muscles of Arnold Schwarzenegger.

So when his gaze lands on a ragged shadow curled up in the corner, knees pulled to its chest, face buried in its lap, he stops short, at a loss.

The shadow looks up through curtains of long, knotted hair. Its face is caked with grime. Yet beneath the grime, its skin is smooth like a boy's, its features oddly familiar.

Hopper blinks in shock, lowering his flamethrower. At first his mouth refuses to say the name. It's too unbelievable.

"Billy... Hargrove?"

The words, hushed with wonder, echo softly through the cell. The boy's expression doesn't change. He stares at Hopper with dead eyes.

"You're not real," he murmurs. A fact, not a question.

Hopper cocks his head, remembering dozens of dead eyes staring back at him in early-morning support meetings. Kneeling slowly, he lays his flamethrower aside and creeps toward the boy, hands raised, palms out.

"Billy, it's me," he says. "It's Hopper. Chief Jim Hopper."

A pained look flashes across the boy's face, as if the mere mention of a name from home is a cruelty. As Hopper kneels in front of him, the boy's chest starts to heave, and he looks away, no doubt repeating a mantra in his head: Not real. Not real.

Hopper casts a glance over him, noting the sleeveless prison uniform. The word stitched to his right lapel: Amerikanyetz. The scarred arms wrapped tightly around his knees. Reaching down, Hopper loosens the boy's hand from its death grip on his pants leg. He closes his fingers around it, pressing his thumb repeatedly into the flesh. Between the knuckles; on the palm; on the wrist.

"You see?" he says quietly. "I'm here. I'm real."

For a long moment, Billy stares hard at Hopper's hand. Emotions awaken in his eyes, subtle at first, then gathering strength like an approaching storm.

Finally he looks at Hopper, and his shoulders begin to shake. His face crumples. A ghostly wail comes out of him, thin and hoarse, echoing with the twenty-year-old cries of lost, dying men in the jungle.

Hopper's eyes sting. He grabs Billy's arms. "Hey. It's okay. It's okay."

Diving forward, Billy flings his arms around Hopper's abdomen. Hopper responds instinctively, embracing him back, resting a hand on his head. As Billy keeps wailing into Hopper's coat, the chief realizes he's saying something.

"It's all my fault! I tried to get to her, I did, but I couldn't stop him— I screamed it wasn't me, I would never say that to her, but she couldn't hear me and now I can't reach her—

"It's all my fault. It's all my fault."

#billy hargrove #jim hopper #billy hargrove is alive #stranger things fic #billy hargrove fic #stranger things au #billy is the american #kamchatka #guaranteed to become a father/son duo or your money back

[lunastarhawk]

Haul Away 🌊

Tides of Memories - part 5

(On AO3)

18+ for drunken shenanigans and sexy time.

Julian and Altheia decide to let off some steam and celebrate with the eclectic patrons of the Rowdy Raven. Drunken shenanigans, much silliness and merriment ensue. And also some not entirely successful beach sexy time.

Inspired by the song Haul Away by Nathan Evans.

Excerpt

Altheia took a swig from the bottle.  “You know, this is good!  Good stuff.  Spicy.  Too good to be swigging from the bottle like a… a… a heathen .”

“You’re right, of course you are.  Well then, let’s save it.”

Julian took a long swig of the drink, then put the cork back in the bottle and tucked it into a pocket inside his coat.

“How big are your pockets?” Altheia exclaimed incredulously.

“Big.”  He smirked and leaned close with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.  “Almost as big as my-”

Laughing, Altheia shoved him; he stumbled a few steps, then lurched back and caught her in his arms.  They walked a little way more, until Altheia spoke.

“Julian?”

“Theia, my love?”

“I can’t… I can’t…”  Altheia giggled, clinging to Julian’s waist with one arm.  “A straight line!  I can’t walk in one.”

“That’s because you are very, very drunk,” Julian replied, his tone very serious, if also very slurred.  He held up one finger.  “I should know.  I’m a doctor.”

“A very drunken doctor!”

“How dare you.  Lean on me, my love, and I shall steer you in a line, straight and true. See that line?  Watch.”

His eyebrows came together in concentration as he looked down at the line between two paving stones as they walked past.

“That wasn’t very straight, doctor.”

“You were leaning on me!”

“You said I could!”

“Wait here, then!”

He took his arm from around her waist to dramatically fling it out in front of her.  As she came to a stop, he continued on to the next paving line - and wobbled his way along that one, too.  He stopped, planted his hands on his hips and looked down at his feet.

“You’ve betrayed me,” he said mournfully to them.

Altheia laughed as she came up to him and looped her arm through his.

“Never mind,” she said cheerily.  “There aren’t any lines on the beach.  No one will know.” 

Julian raised his free arm and pointed straight ahead.  “To the beach!”

She imitated him.  “The beach!”

“You know,” he said as they walked, “this all reminds me of one time when I was at the Raven, and I just went outside for some fresh air, and there was a very beautiful magician standing there.  And she tripped and fell into a barrel!  A barrel, of all things!  Luckily I was there, and not so drunk as I am now, and I pulled her out!”

“That was me!”

“Was it?”  Julian stopped and looked down at her, swaying a little.  “Oh!  So it was!”  They both laughed loudly, and then he said, “And then, if I remember correctly, you walked straight into my chest!”

“No,” Altheia shook her head.  “No, that was before.”  She smiled broadly.  “I remember it very well.”

Julian’s eyes widened.  “You do?”

“I do!”

“Are you sure it was before I pulled you from the barrel?”

Altheia frowned as she thought, but her mind was hazy.  She gave a dismissive wave.  “Doesn’t matter.  My point is, I remember your chest very well.”  As they continued walking, she wrapped both arms around his waist and leaned on his shoulder.  “It’s very beautiful.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes!”

“Well, that’s… that’s good.”

She looked up to see him flushing a rosy pink, and not just because of the alcohol.  

Somehow remembering that Julian was shirtless under his coat, Altheia grabbed the lapels, turned him and pushed him back into a wall, ignoring his startled Oh!  She hooked one arm around the back of his neck to pull him down and smother his mouth in sloppy kisses.  He hummed into her embrace, his arms snaking around her, holding her close, and her other hand rose up to press on the firm muscle of his left pec.

“You know,” she said between kisses, “When you were dancing, all I could think was how I wanted to do unspeakable things to you.”

The sound that came from Julian was part whimper, part embarrassed laugh.

“Well, you know, if you’re lucky, I would let you do unshpe- un- speak -able things to me.”

She twined her fingers in his hair.  “Is that why we’re going to the beach?”

“Pardon?”

“The beach!  We’re going to the beach!”

“Oh yes, so we are.  No, no, I thought it would be, you know, romantic, or some such-”

“Can I romantically do unspeakable things to you on the beach?”

Julian grinned stupidly.  “You can, yes indeed, very romantically unspeakable.  To the beach!”

“The beach!”

He pushed himself away from the wall and they continued on, stumbling along the paving.  Julian gasped suddenly and stopped again.

“Theia?”

“Yes, Julian?”

“The beach has sand.”

“Yes, Julian.”

“When you do unspeakable things to me, the sand might get in places you really don’t want sand to be.”

“Oh.”  Altheia stopped and frowned, thinking.  But no coherent thought would come.  So she grinned instead.  “That’s okay.  You’re a doctor.”

“I am.”

“And I’m a magician.”

“You are!”

Silence.  Then, with a satisfied hum and nod of their heads, as if reminding themselves of their occupations was the answer to the problem, they continued on.

“Doctor Julian?”

“Yes, Magician Altheia?”

“Sing for me.”

“Alright!”  Julian tightened his hold around her waist and exaggeratedly cleared his throat.  “Darling it’s late and I want to go home!”

Altheia joined in with him, and they shouted rather than sang, “Wooon’t you waaaaalk with meeeeee !”

“ Take what we have and we’ll leave this behiiiiiiind !”

“Haaaaul awaaaaaay with meeeeee!”

They bent over laughing, until Julian composed himself enough to continue through his laughter,

“It’s dark and it’s cold and I want to go hooooooome !”

“That’s not how it goes!”

“It is!  It’s dark and it’s cold and I want to go hoooooome !”

“Wait, wait, wait.”  Altheia held up her hand.  “You know, in fact, it’s not that cold, actually.”

“Hmm.  Yes, you’re right.”  Julian raised his voice again as he warbled, "It’s dark and it’s warm and I want to go hoooooome!”

“No, no, not warm, but… quite mild.  Pleasant.”

“It’s dark and quite mild and I want to go hooooome!”

“What about the beach?”

“Pardon?”

“I thought we were going to the beach?”

“Oh!  Quite right, so we are.”  He raised his arm and his voice once again.  “It’s dark and quite mild actually and I want to go to the beeeeeeach!”

Altheia cackled, but managed to join in with him to sing in unison,

“Haaaul away, haaaul away, haaaul away with MEEEEEE!”

Julian continued, “It’s dark and quite mild actually and I want to let gooooo, you’re right there for meeeeee!”

“I am!”

“You are!”

Julian picked her up and spun her round, fixing his lips on hers, until he staggered and nearly fell, Altheia nearly threw up, and they stopped for a few minutes, recovering through hysterical laughter.  

When they started off once more, Julian walked backwards in front of her so he could sing to her, one hand on his chest, as together they belted out,

“Haaaaul away, haaaul away, haaaul away with MEEEEEE!”

Inevitably he tripped, but Altheia reached forward and caught his hand, pulling him upright against her.

“See?  I’m here for you!”

“You are!  Always!”

“Always.”

They smiled then, warm and sincere.  And then together they ‘sang’ at the top of their lungs,

“YOU’RE RIGHT THEEERE FOR MEEEEEEE!”

Altheia clapped her hand over Julian’s mouth.

“SSSSHHHH!  You’ll wake everyone up!”

He replied by putting his hand over her mouth.  “So will you!  SSSHHH!”

They both laughed, dodged some apple cores that were thrown at them out of a window, shouted an apology, and staggered on.  

Eventually, they rounded a corner and saw the beach ahead.

“The sea!”  Altheia cried.  “I can see the sea!”

That sent Julian into a new song, as they carefully navigated the steps down the sea wall.

“A doctor went to sea, sea, sea, to see what he could see, see, see!”

“What did he see, see, see?”

“The bottom of the deep blue sea, sea, sea!”

“The bottom?”

“The very bottom of the deep blue sea, sea, sea!”

“He was doing something wrong, then!”

Eventually, somehow, they made it down to the beach and staggered together along the sand, away from the light of the street lamps.  A warm fuzziness was coming over Altheia, at the alcohol and at being so close to Julian the whole time, but Julian picked up another song.

“What shall we do with the drunken doctor, what shall we do with the drunken doctor, what shall we do with the drunken doctooooooooor, ear-”

Keeping in time with the tune, Altheia interrupted.

“ Un-speak-a-ble thiiiiiings!”

“That- aah!”

She grabbed his coat and pulled him down, and Julian tumbled onto his back on the sand.  Altheia fell on top of him, giggling, and kissed him deeply, her hands moving over his body as he held her close.

“Here?”

“Yes?”

“Good, good, yes alright then.  Have your way with me, with your unspeakable things!”

Haul Away - Part of 5 of Tides of Memories, on AO3

#the arcana #the arcana fanfiction #julian devorak #julian devorak fanfiction #the arcana game #the arcana fanfic #they're so silly

[fireinmoonshot]

holding the other’s chin up & druig pls

It’s driving Druig absolutely crazy that you won’t look at him. You haven’t looked at him since he told you he loved you a total of twelve hours ago. You’d barely been awake, and Druig had muttered it under his breath, thinking you were still asleep. It’d been on your mind all day, echoing around in there so you couldn’t forget it.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Druig loves you, and you don’t know what to do with that information. It’s terrifying and thrilling all at the same time. It’s the first time someone has ever said something like that to you, and you feel like the world is crumbling in on you every time he looks at you.

Which is a lot. Druig looks at you more than he looks at anything else.

He watches you from across the room as you talk to Sersi. You’re looking anywhere but him, and your body language looks uncomfortable. Druig has looked at you enough to know when you’re comfortable and when you’re not, and it makes him want to walk straight up to you and get you out of here. Take you somewhere you’re comfortable instead.

But he forces himself to stand still. You weren’t looking at him for a reason.

It isn’t long, however, before Druig finally loses his cool and wanders over to you. Sersi sees him coming and leaves, knowing just from the look on his face that he needs to talk to you about something serious. He appreciates the gesture.

Druig stands in front of you. “Love, will you look at me?”

You don’t. Your gaze stays firmly rooted to the floor, staring at his feet. It’s the closest he’s been to you all day and you can feel your breath catch in your throat. The man who loves you is standing in front of you. The man you love is standing here and you feel like you’ve forgotten every word in every language you know.

He takes matters into his own hands – quite literally. His right hand moves to gently touch your chin, moving your head up until you have no choice but to meet his eyes. His voice is quiet when he speaks. You’re surrounded by people, but Druig only wants to talk to you. He wants his words to belong to you and you alone.

“Did I do something wrong?”

You’re terrified as you look into his eyes. Love. He loves you. You love him, but he doesn’t know that. You’re not meant to love each other. It was all supposed to be a fling, something you thought you’d do to get rid of the tension between you. It hadn’t worked.

His fingertips are soft on your chin, though, and his eyes are deep and thoughtful and so full of the man you’re in love with that the words are tumbling from your mouth before you even have a chance to stop them.

“I love you, too,” you mutter, unsure if he’ll even hear the words.

He does.

Druig’s breath catches in his own throat. I love you, too. Had you heard him this morning when he’d been testing out how the words sounded on his tongue for when he finally got the guts to tell you that he’d fallen in love with you? He’d been sure you were asleep…

“You–”

“I love you.” Your words are a little louder now. You’ve gained a little confidence despite the look of pure and utter confusion on Druig’s face. “I heard you tell me, and I wanted you to know that I love you, too. That I fell in love with you even though I shouldn’t have.”

His lips have fallen open in a perfect ‘O’.

You’d heard him. You’d heard him. That was not how he’d planned to tell you. He didn’t actually have any plan for when or where he’d tell you, but you overhearing was not it at all.

He blinks. You have actually rendered Druig speechless. It’s a rare feeling for him, especially when you take him by surprise once again by stepping towards him, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and pulling his lips towards yours.

The two of you have kissed before – plenty of times – but there’s a feeling in this kiss that Druig has never felt before. He knows what it is without even having to wonder. It’s love. It’s pure and unhidden love from the both of you. He hopes you can feel it, too.

You attempt to pull away but Druig acts quickly, pulling your lips back to his, not ready to let you go yet. He couldn’t care less if he’s making a scene in the middle of the party. He couldn’t care less about anything except the feeling of your lips on his, his hands on you.

Your love wasn’t forbidden, even though the two of you had unofficially forbidden it. But Druig wondered, as your hands made their way to his hair, why he hadn’t done this before if forbidden love felt so good.

#druig #druig x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #eternals #eternals x reader #druig x you #druig imagine #marvel imagine

[lizzie-is-here]

acta, non verba

captain america: the winter soldier: part iii

summary: time to topple a branch of the government!

wordcount: 5.5k (hot damn)

warnings: cussing, violence, talk of brainwashing, guilt, reader calls bucky hot multiple times after he tries to kill her

series masterlist

After you, Nat, Steve, and Sam had formed a plan, you rushed from the house. Locating Jasper Sitwell wasn’t very difficult with Nat’s hacking skills, and the perfect setup had been created.

While Sam ate at a cafe, the three of you perched atop a nearby building. The redhead had a sniper rifle in hand, ready to aim at Sitwell once Sam had made contact.

Everything went to plan, and after a few minutes the door to the roof swung open, with Steve shoving Sitwell through the entrance.

“Tell me about Zola’s algorithm,” he demanded, all business.

Shaking, Jasper scrambled to his feet and shoved his glasses back on. He panicked and blurted, “Never heard of it.”

Steve ignored the blatant lie and continued questioning, you and Nat following close behind.

“What were you doing on the Lemurian Star?”

“I was throwing up. I get seasick.” That was a shitty lie. If he didn’t throw up from the helicarrier’s constant swaying, you highly doubted a boat would make him sick.

Your blond friend backed him up to the edge of the roof, catching him right before he toppled over. He grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and maintained eye contact, waiting.

“Is this little display meant to insinuate that you’re gonna throw me off the roof? Because it’s really not your style, Rogers,” Sitwell said.

“You’re right, it’s not” Steve said, glancing at Nat. “It’s hers.” She stepped up, kicking him backward without hesitation. You laughed as he plummeted, knowing Sam would be there to catch him.

Even after flinging a senior officer from a building, Nat was still in the mood for matchmaking. “Oh, wait. What about that girl from Accounting, Laura-“ She stumbled over the name for a moment, running through a few other similar names.

“Lilian. Lip piercing, right?” Steve corrected.

“Yeah, she’s cute.” Nat said, her voice rising teasingly.

Steve was quick to shut her down. “Yeah. I’m not ready for that.”

“You know, Nat. If you think these girls are so cute why don’t you date them yourself?” you asked. “I’m sure some of them would jump at the opportunity.”

She only shrugged, a silent ‘maybe’. Sitwell’s screams returned as Sam rose from below, donned in a grey wingsuit made of metal. The tech was extremely intuitive, with the wings responding to his every move.

He dropped Sitwell on the concrete and landed, the wings folding into the pack automatically.

As the four of you surrounded Officer Sitwell, he stuck out his hand to shield himself.

“Zola’s algorithm is a program for choosing Insight’s targets,” he shouted through gasps.

“What targets?” you asked.

“You!” The man on the ground flung his hand in your direction. “A TV anchor in Cairo, the Under Secretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa City. Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, anyone who’s a threat to HYDRA. Now, or in the future.”

You felt your gut twist. HYDRA was playing God, choosing who lived or died on their own terms. The idea that innocent people were already being targeted sent a chill through you.

“In the future? How could it know?” Steve wondered.

Sitwell began laughing, a bold move considering his position. “How could it not?” he snapped.

“The 21st century is a digital book. Zola taught HYDRA how to read it,” he explained, rising to his feet.

“Your bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, emails, phone calls, your damn SAT scores!” His voice rose and grew frantic. “Zola’s algorithm evaluates people’s past to predict their future.”

Steve somehow managed to not panic over this revelation, and continued his interrogation.

“And what then?” You had a feeling you knew.

A look of realization washed over the shorter man’s face, and his breathing became quicker. “Oh my God. Pierce is gonna kill me.”

“What then?” he pressed, stepping closer to invade his personal space.

“Then the Insight helicarriers scratch people off the list. A few million at a time.”

This was who you’d been working for? How many people had you been told were bad that were really threats to HYDRA? Feeling a headache coming on, you rubbed your temples and groaned in annoyance.

“(Y/N)? We’re gonna get a car and head to the Triskelion, you good?” Nat shook you gently, a glaring contrast to your mind.

Nevertheless, you nodded.

“Let’s fuck up some government property.”

———————————————————————

Somehow, you’d been robbed of the front seat again, and were crammed in the back with Nat and Sitwell.

The bald man was anxious, wringing his hands and looking around.

“HYDRA doesn’t like leaks.”

“And I don’t like you. Shut your whore mouth before I throw you into traffic,” you bit. He scooted away from you, leaning against the window.

Nat leaned forward. “Insight’s launching in 16 hours. We’re cutting it a little bit close here.”

“I know,” Steve said. “We’ll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the helicarriers directly.”

“What, are you crazy?” Sitwell exclaimed. “That is a terrible, terrible idea.” Before he could continue, a thud sounded from the roof. An arm reached into the car and grabbed him, throwing him into oncoming traffic.

You got a glimpse at the hand. Metal. Silver.

“Shiiiiiiit. It’s Зимний Солдат.” You went for a gun, knowing you couldn’t knife him. He climbed onto the roof and shot into the car. Nat rolled forward onto Steve while you kicked out the remaining glass from the window.

Sam came to a screeching halt, sending the Soldier rolling. You watched curiously as he rose, his metal arm having left divots in the road.

A vehicle slamming into the car from behind sent you careening into the seat in front of you. Wonderful. You kicked open the door and shot at the HYDRA car behind you. It was bulletproof, but the shock managed to slow it down.

It didn’t do much good. The man on the roof slammed a hand down, ripping the steering wheel from its place. Sam now had no control over the car, and was firing off cuss after cuss.

The HYDRA vehicle bumped the car again, sending it flying out of control. Just as the car flipped, Steve pulled out his shield and everyone grabbed onto him.

You tumbled from the car and slid along the highway. As you slowed down, you rolled off of the vibranium disc and checked your gun. Unscathed.

Turning, you saw the Winter Soldier grab a missile launcher. Steve took a direct hit, and flew from the bridge. You ran with Nat and jumped, your grappling hook saving you just before you slammed into the pavement.

The two of you skidded to a halt as you saw the Soldier’s shadow, the gun silhouetted in his hands. Nat split off, distracting him with repeated shots. For a moment, it almost looked as though she’d landed one, but he returned with machine gun fire.

In the meantime, you took the opportunity to hide in an alley, watching from a distance. The Soldier jumped, landing on another car and collapsing the roof in on itself. He stalked down the street as you watched carefully.

You ducked as he looked your way, and peeked out once again as Nat took a running leap, doing her best to injure him. He was unmoving, and threw her. As she ran, you saw her collapse to a gunshot.

You weren’t going to lose her. Even if it killed you.

Gun in hand, you stormed towards him, letting off round after round. Once you were out, you went in hand to hand, disarming him and grabbing one of his knives. His eyes bore into you, steel cold and numb.

For a moment, you could almost see an emotion. Recognition? You weren’t sure.

The moment ended as soon as he surged forward. You did your best to block the punches, but the metal arm was a huge advantage. Not to mention the enhanced strength.

He blocked every move, sliding around blows with an unexpected grace. As Steve came running, he sent one last punch to your gut before deciding that you were incapacitated. You groaned and curled up into a ball. Steve could handle it for a second while you caught your breath.

After taking a few labored breaths, you stood to watch the fight. Super soldier versus super soldier, it was a much more level plane.

Stepping forward as Steve landed what could only be described as a bitch slap, you took a leap from an SUV to land on the Soldier, flipping back with all your might and sending him flying.

In the process, his mask was dislodged. As he stood up, you walked up next to Steve. The soldier turned around, and you were ready to see the identity of the ghost.

You weren’t ready to see the face of Sergeant James Barnes. You gasped and Steve spoke.

“Bucky?”

The desperation in his voice was palpable. You would feel the same in his situation. Seeing your best friend that you thought was dead, that you saw die. Knowing he was really in the hands of HYDRA the whole time.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” the soldier asked. You choked back a whimper. As he aimed his gun, Sam flew in, kicking him. Before you could get in a word, a missile flew at him. Nat.

He was gone in the smoke, the back-to-back attacks scaring him off.

Sirens wailed as you shook. You grabbed weakly at Steve’s jacket, swallowing.

“Nat?” Your voice was a rasp, overpowered by the barrage of sounds around you. She still heard, though.

As Nat limped toward you, you hurried to her, accepting a distraction with open arms.

The sirens arrived, and SHIELD/HYDRA agents spilled from the cars like oil, covering everything in sight.

“Drop the shield, Cap! Get on your knees!” Normally, you would’ve made a cheeky innuendo, but it didn’t feel appropriate.

One of the agents laid the muzzle of a gun against his head. Rumlow shoved him off, whispering.

All four of you were shoved into a car, handcuffed.

“It was him,” Steve insisted. His handcuffs were more of metal bricks, but he made no move to escape. “He looked right at me like he even know me.”

“How is that even possible? It was like, 70 years ago.” Sam asked.

“No, that was Barnes,” you grunted, cradling your ribs. “I wouldn’t forget a face like that.”

Nat groaned from across you. “There is no way that you think he’s hot.” You shoved down your lingering guilt and agreed.

“Nat he fits the vibe!” You cried, not caring if you were annoying the guards.

She looked at you as if you’d grown another head. “I don’t care about your damn ‘vibe’, he shot me!”

You chuckled dryly, “And here I thought you cared about my romantic prospects.” You shook your head in mocking disappointment.

“Not when it’s the WINTER FUCKING SOLDIER,” Sam exclaimed. You shrugged, and glanced around the car.

Steve explained how Zola had experimented on Barnes back in the 40s, when he’d been captured by HYDRA. Whatever he’d done must have helped him survive his plummet from the train.

“None of that’s your fault, Steve,” Nat murmured, head lolling.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.”

“We need to get a doctor here,” Sam said. “If we don’t put pressure on that wound, she’s gonna bleed out here in the truck.” The guard he was addressing activated their baton, threatening him.

Instead of attacking Sam, the guard drove the baton into the guard next to them, and kicked their head sideways.

As the helmet was pulled off to reveal Maria Hill, you were more than relieved.

“That thing was squeezing my brain,” she grumbled. She looked over at Sam, then to you.

“Who’s this guy?”

———————————————————————

You escaped from the van, sneaking into a separate car and driving to what looked like a run-down construction site in a cave. Hill led you inside, and waved down a doctor before heading towards a different room.

Laying on a hospital bed, hooked up to machines and very much alive, was Nick Fury.

He lifted his head, meeting your shocked gaze.

“About damn time.”

As Nat sat down to allow the doctor to treat her wound, Nick began listing his injuries.

“Lacerated spinal column, cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, and one hell of a headache.”

The mild-mannered doctor glanced up from his work. “Don’t forget your collapsed lung.”

“Let’s not forget that,” Fury said, tone dripping sarcasm. “Otherwise, I’m good.”

Nat frowned. “They cut you open. Your heart stopped.”

“Tetrodotoxin B. Slows the pulse to one beat a minute. Banner developed it for stress. Didn’t work so great for him, but we found a use for it.”

They went on to explain the reasoning behind the secrecy. You can’t kill someone who’s already dead.

You stayed off in the corner, fiddling with the knife you’d taken from the Soldier. After Nat’s shoulder was fixed as best as the doctor could, you pulled her, Steve and Sam to the side.

“Can I talk to you guys? Privately?” They nodded, and you walked to a different room.

You rubbed your shoulders, knife still in hand. “Um, I think I know why Barnes didn’t recognize you.” Steve stayed silent, waiting for more.

“When I worked with SHIELD, I was approached by Pierce. He said they’d gotten intel on how HYDRA controlled the Winter Soldier.”

“He said that they’d perfected the art of short-term brainwashing via electro-shock treatments. He asked me to volunteer to do some experiments. He- he…”

You choked on your words, shaking your head furiously. Nat took your hand in her good one, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles.

“He said that if SHIELD understood it, maybe they could save him by reversing it. I jumped on the opportunity. If I could help someone escape that hell hole… Now I realize he was just perfecting it to further control the Soldier.”

Sam leaned forward, swaying. “Did it hurt?”

You chuckled. “Hurt like hell. That I remember. God, I had to have a mouthpiece so I wouldn’t shatter my jaw. I just screamed, and screamed.”

He leaned in again. “Did it work?”

You nodded. “They sent me on missions. Never logged them properly. Kept it hidden. I don’t even know what I did. I could’ve…”

Steve avoided eye contact, and you shrunk into yourself further.

“I thought I was doing good, but when they refused to tell me what I did on the missions, I left. I quit SHIELD and hid. Fury called in favors every now and then, but…” Turning to Steve, you gently tapped his arm.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault he doesn’t recognize you. If I hadn’t-“

“No.” Nat cut you off firmly. “You don’t take the fall for this.” Your grip on the knife tightened.

“I think I already did. In all honesty, they could still control me if they got me.” At that, Steve finally spoke.

“How? How do they control him?” You faltered. Memories were fuzzy, empty spaces leaving confusion and doubt.

“I think it’s control words? They- I don’t think I had any but… they could’ve planted them.” You swiped at the bags under your eyes.

“Anyway, the wiping isn’t long-term. They would have to redo it every few days or so. I’d bet you could break Barnes out of it.”

You all stood in silence, with Nat still holding your hand. The Widow’s touch was rare, maybe less so for you, but it had a distinct comfort.

“We have to try.”

———————————————————————

“This man declined a Nobel Peace Prize.” Fury was talking about Pierce, who he’d been friends with before Pierce had sent the Winter Soldier to kill him.

“He said peace wasn’t an achievement. It was a responsibility,” Fury mocked, dropping a photo.

“See, it’s stuff like this that gives me trust issues.” You couldn’t help but agree. You’d put full faith into SHIELD before the experiments, but knowing that they’d been lying the whole time was a hard hit.

“We have to stop the launch,” Nat insisted.

“I don’t think the Council’s accepting my calls anymore,” Fury said. He then opened a case with three electronic chips inside.

Sam was the first to inquire about them. Hill explained that the chips would alter the Insight helicarriers’ target lock, causing them to shoot each other. If even one chip wasn’t installed and one carrier was left active, millions would die.

“We have to assume everyone aboard those carriers is HYDRA,” Nick said. “We have to get past them, insert these server blades. And maybe, just maybe, we can salvage what’s left-“

Steve cut him off. “We’re not salvaging anything. We’re not just taking down the carriers, Nick. We’re taking down SHIELD.”

“SHIELD had nothing to do with this!” Nick exclaimed, jumping to defend his organization.

“You gave me this mission, this is how it ends. SHIELD’s been compromised. You said so yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed.”

The situation only escalated. “Why do you think we’re meeting in this cave? I noticed.” Fury was on defense, but Steve wasn’t keen on giving up.

“How many paid the price before you did?” That shut him up. Just for a moment.

“Look, I didn’t know about Barnes.” His sentiment was wasted, Rogers felt slighted.

“Even if you had, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that, too?” he spat. “SHIELD, HYDRA, it all goes.”

Maria agreed, and Nick scanned the room. You nodded slightly, twisting the knife. Nat simply leaned back in her chair, watching for any reactions.

“Don’t look at me,” Sam surrendered. “I do what he does, just slower.”

At the unanimous decision, Fury sighed. “Well, it looks like you’re giving the orders now, Captain.”

———————————————————————

The next day, you were trekking through the woods. Led by Hill, you met up with Steve at a checkpoint. Sam was in his suit, and you’d thrown on yours. You hadn’t been sure of what Steve was going to do until you saw him approaching.

“You did not.” You laughed. He gave a smile.

“I did.”

“I can’t believe you broke into the Smithsonian. How old is that suit? 70?” You gave him a once-over.

He shrugged, and you continued the trek to the Triskelion. Nat had been left to go undercover, as her shoulder kept her from being directly on the field. The rest of you had your objectives.

Steve and Sam were to lock in the chips, Hill would initiate the lock. And you, you were on a personal mission to find the copies of your mission reports. You had to know what you’d done.

Once the group successfully snuck into the building, you hid in a room until a tech opened the door. He was met with the Assistant Director, a stranger with a gun, and two national fugitives.

He threw up his hands, and you all entered the room. There wasn’t a guard in sight, so you accessed a computer without much fuss. Hacking into the intercom, Steve did what he did best.

“Attention all SHIELD agents, this is Steve Rogers. You’ve heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it’s time you know the truth.”

“SHIELD is not what we thought it was. It’s been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader. The STRIKE and Insight crew are HYDRA as well. I don’t know how many more, but I know they’re in the building. They could be standing right next to you.”

You watched as many people turned to glance around, eyeing one another with suspicion.

“They almost have what they want. Absolute control. They shot Nick Fury. And it won’t end there. If you launch those helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way. Unless we stop them.”

“I know I’m asking a lot. But the price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it’s a price I’m willing to pay. And if I’m the only one, then so be it. But I’m willing to bet I’m not.”

At the last moment, you surged forward to grab the mic.

“What the Captain is trying to say, is fuck up the Nazi bitches!” you shouted. You could hear your voice echo, even from the isolated room. Hell, even if this was serious, you were gonna have some fun.

Sam chuckled, then looked at Steve. “Did you write that all down first, or was it off the top of your head?”

Steve shrugged, and the three of you split off, leaving Hill to give commands from the computer.

You sprinted down hallways, boots barely catching the floor as you swung around corners. A few agents moved to stop you, but you shot through them and barreled on.

Once you made it to the Archives room, you jiggled the handle. Locked. Sighing, you set a small explosive and ducked behind a corner. As soon as it went off, you charged into the room.

Each box had a label, but there were hundreds. You guessed it would be under your name.

“(L/N), (L/N), (L/N,) you whispered furiously, throwing boxes from the shelves. Finally, you spotted it. Flinging it open, you grabbed a file. It outlined a mission, but had many spots blacked out.

“Shit, no!” You huffed in frustration. There were a few discs and USBs, along with more censored reports. It would have to do. You grabbed some tape and sealed it, ripping the end with your teeth.

You shouldered the box and ran back to the tech room. Hill jumped at your intrusion, and you practically tossed the box at her. She caught it and nodded.

“Get out there, I think Barnes is here.”

God, this was going to be your cardio for the month. You stopped in a hallway briefly to slam a STRIKE agent into the wall. You took his weapons and grabbed his sniper rifle. Not your taste, but it was functional.

As soon as you reached the launch pad, you were surrounded by gunfire. You snuck in the shadows, dipping under plane wings and through storage crates. From under a ledge, you set up the gun.

“Falcon, where are you?” Your question was answered by said man careening past you, barely dodging shots. You aimed towards the machine gun targeting him and blasted it, successfully giving him some breathing space.

“Alpha lock.” Steve’s voice rang through the earpiece, and you let out a breath. One down, two to go.

After a few more painstaking minutes, Sam confirmed Bravo lock as well.

You stood as SHIELD pilots prepared to help the Captain, but a missile soon destroyed the jets.

The Soldier.

You ran forward just before he threw an assistant into a plane wing and kicked him in the gut. The assistant scurried away as you unsheathed your sword.

“C’mon, Barnes, I know you’re in there! Also, Steve will kick my ass if I stab-” He clearly didn’t like your words, and charged at you with blinding speed. You matched him blow for blow, parrying the metal arm best you could.

Now that you could see his face, you were reluctant to go full offensive. This was the same man Steve had spoken so highly of, a young boy who’d been shoved into a war. You backed away, putting your sword up.

“Listen, Bucky-“

“Stop calling me that!” he yelled, throwing a punch.

“OK JESUS FUCK YOU DON’T HAVE TO PUNCH ME.” You slid around him and slapped him with the back of your hand. Quickly, you withdrew it and winced. You had rings on, so that must’ve hurt.

“Ooh, sorry,” you muttered, sucking a breath through your teeth. The confusion on his face only grew.

“(Y/N) are you talking to him?” Hill asked incredulously. Apparently you’d accidentally activated your earpiece.

“I mean- yeah. I feel kinda bad, I just bitch slapped the poor dude.” You explained. He still wasn’t moving, staring and watching your every move.

Just as you were about to negotiate with him, Sam flew in, kicking him once again. As they started fighting, you ran to help some of the pilots. The Soldier succeeded in ripping Sam’s wings off, and kicked him from the ledge.

Sam told Steve, who was still in the process of completing Charlie lock. You were running out of time.

You watched as the Winter Soldier stared down over the edge. Knowing Steve was down there, you jumped in front of him.

“Woah, slow down,” you said, grabbing a staff. As soon as you swung, he caught it, snapping it with little effort. You took the ends and caught them around his arm, pulling back. The joints adjusted before he grabbed you, throwing you from the carrier.

As you plummeted towards the river, you straightened your body, hoping it wasn’t shallow. You cut through the lukewarm water and landed on the riverbed, surging to the surface and paddling to the edge. Your ankle ached with what you suspected to be a sprain.

“Steve, I’m out. I’m too far from the carrier.”

“It’s alright. I’ve got-“ His voice cut off. It seemed the Soldier had gotten there first. You couldn’t see him, but you knew that would be a tough fight.

“Nat, how’s it going up there?” you asked, panting.

“All of the files are online. They’re trending.” That was good. HYDRA and SHIELD exposed. You knew her mission reports and files were digital, so her secrets would be open to the world. She seemed ready to face any backlash, though.

You sincerely hoped that Maria Hill would keep your box safe. Maybe you could find answers and undo any wrongs.

Hill called out to Steve, who hadn’t managed to lock in the last chip. He was cutting this far too close. If this failed, you were dead. So were millions of others.

“Steve?” You heard a pant over comms.

“Charlie lock.” Thank fuck, you thought as you collapsed on the riverbank. He was still in trouble, but it could’ve been much worse. You gazed towards the Insight helicarriers as they took aim at one another, letting off round after round into their hulls.

Backing away as they came crashing down, you watched for Steve. He was on the one nearest you, but you couldn’t see him.

The shield dropped. Whether that was good or bad was undetermined.

That was, until a massive section of debris collapsed, and you saw Steve falling limp into the water. Looking to where he fell from, you could see Barnes clinging to a metal support.

You weren’t sure if you had the strength to carry him to shore, but you couldn’t leave him. Diving into the water, you swam as fast as possible to where he last sank. Your strength was failing, and you couldn’t see under the waves. You grasped around blindly until your hand touched the straps of his uniform.

Hoping it was Steve, you tugged desperately. However, lifting 220 pounds of super-soldier from a river wasn’t easy, especially since you had nothing to grip onto. Just as you were about to give up, a metal hand grabbed the uniform.

You flew back in the water, ready to fight your friend’s body away from the Soldier, but instead you were met with the man pulling Steve up and swimming to shore.

You followed in a trance, staggering onto the pebbles. Barnes dropped a limp Captain America onto the rocks, and took a few deep breaths. He looked at Steve, who coughed up water, and then to you.

“James?” you asked. Whatever had happened on the carrier apparently broke the brainwashing, because he recognized the name.

He turned, limping away. You didn’t have it in you to stop him, especially when Steve was bleeding out. Watching as Barnes continued to walk away, you put a shaky hand to your earpiece.

“Hey, we need a medic. Steve- he’s not looking too good.” When help arrived, taking him away on a stretcher, you were still looking to the woods.

———————————————————————

A month later, things were returning to normal. Steve was done recovering in the hospital, where you, Nat, and Sam had taken turns visiting. Sharon, the agent who’d been planted in Steve’s apartment building, had joined the CIA along with several other SHIELD agents. Maria Hill had begun working with you at Stark Industries.

You’d caught Tony up to speed over the course of multiple phone calls. He was overly excited to hear about SHIELD’s downfall, but you accredited that to the time they put him on house arrest.

Today, you were appearing with Nat before a board of committee members to speak about the recent events. The public was in another frenzy after she had released SHIELD documents, and they wanted answers. They wouldn’t get many.

“Why haven’t we heard from Captain Rogers?” a particularly wrinkly member asked.

“I don’t know what there is left for him to say,” Nat began. Cameras clicked as reporters soaked up every word. “I think the wreck in the middle of the Potomac made his point fairly eloquently.”

“Well, he could explain how this country is supposed to maintain its national security now that he and both of you have laid waste to our intelligence apparatus.”

“Hydra was selling you lies, not intelligence,” she said.

The committee member lashed out. “Many of which you seemed to have had a personal hand in telling.” Another spoke up.

“Agents, you should know that there are some on this committee who feel, given your service records, both for this country and against it, that you both belong in a penitentiary. Not mouthing off on Capitol Hill.” At that, you spoke up, rising from your seat and placing your fingertips on the table.

“You’re not going to put me in a prison. You’re not going to put any of us in a prison. You know why?” you asked. It was all rhetorical, but they took the bait.

“Do enlighten us,” he said, gesturing to the men around him.

“Because there is no one else on this planet better qualified to defend it. Which we’ve done with a 100% success rate, which is more than you can say. So if you want to arrest me, arrest me. You know who I am.”

With that, you and Nat left the building, shoulder to shoulder. You barged through the press with a level gaze and jumped into the same muscle car that you’d taken to pick up Steve at the start of all this.

“I think we handled that pretty well,” Nat said as she drove. You were headed to a graveyard to meet up with the rest of the group. Her driving was still reckless as ever, but she parked flawlessly and helped you from the car.

As you both approached Steve and Sam, Fury walked away from his headstone.

“You should be honored. That’s about as close as he gets to saying thank you.” Nat called.

“Neither of you going with him?” Steve asked. He’d had speedy recovery thanks to the serum, and he’d been on his feet for a while.

“No,” Nat said definitively.

“Not staying here.” He phrased it as more of a statement than a question.

“Nah. I blew all my covers. I gotta go figure out a new one.” You knew she would come and visit, but you couldn’t help but miss her already.

“That might take a while,” Steve said.

“I’m counting on it.”

You glared at her and shoved her good shoulder. “Ouch, not even gonna visit me?” you teased.

She laughed, promised that she would, and turned back to Rogers.

“That thing you asked for. I called in a few favors from Kiev. Will you do me a favor? Call that nurse?” Still matchmaking. Even as she handed off a file about the Winter Soldier.

“She’s not a nurse,” Steve said, referencing Sharon’s cover identity.

Nat was unphased. “And you're not a SHIELD agent.”

He asked her name, and Nat was more than happy to give it. If one of her matchmakings was successful, she’d take it. She gave him a last kiss on the cheek before giving you a hug.

“I will visit. Just give me some time,” she whispered.

You nodded into the hug. “I know. Take all the time you need.”

She pulled away, then glanced back once more.

“Be careful Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread.”

She hopped into her car and pulled away, passing the speed limit in a few seconds.

“You’re going after him,” Sam said. You exchanged glances with him before peeking at the file. It showed Barnes in some form of cryogenic stasis, frozen in time.

“You don’t have to come with me,” he said to both of you.

You shrugged. “My ride just left me and your friend’s still hot. Might as well.”

a/n: ooh reader’s backstory…👀 anyway yeah holy shit i was excited for this one. i’ve had the little scene in the hydra car in my head for forever lol. hope you enjoy <3

#avengers x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #acta non verba #avengers #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #nick fury #captain america #bucky barnes #sam wilson #captain america the winter soldier #catws supremacy #catws #catws x reader

[all-things-fic]

Stand and Deliver

A/N: This is probably the quickest I’ve ever written something in the longest time and was a nice interlude from the piece I’m preparing for this weekend. I picked one prompt of number 14 “I can’t say away from you”.

Massive love to Anne @oh-honey-styles for putting this one together. 

This is a little blurb of Harry on your doorstep, giving in and putting out.

~*~

He could still hear your voice. The way you’d offered him a nightcap in your London townhouse. Hopeful tone with an edge of something he couldn’t quite explain.

As he sat, car still idling outside on the deserted London street that held your home, he rubbed his hands harshly down his face and dropped his head back against the headrest behind him.

Did he want to come in? Of course, he fucking did.

You had to know that too. Surely.

From the pucker of his lips against your hand as he lifted it to his mouth while waiting for the light to turn green; to the way his hand hadn’t left your thigh through the entire evening of dinner and drinks.

He had become quite the master at cutting his food with only the edge of his fork. Casting glances your way as you engaged in conversation with others around the dining table. Willing you to turn your energy to him, to spoil him and only have eyes for him.

Cause his glances had been woven with unbridled lust, that he thought had gone unnoticed by you. Yet, your request just ten minutes prior told him otherwise.

But still he’d declined. Politely.

This breathy chuckle had left his throat around his words, because while his mouth was respectful the thoughts clouding his mind were anything but.

He remembered your blush, only visible to him thanks to his interior car light. The way you had brushed your hair behind your ear and barely muttered your soft, “oh.”

How had you gotten it so wrong?

His touch had been tactile. His eyes, unyielding.

The kiss the two of you had shared in the dark car park before he finally drove you away into the inky night - one that left your lips searing in one second and lifting innocently in the next - as you hit the next set of traffic lights and your thumbs brushed away the rouge staining you left upon him.

All the signs had been there in him wanting to. In you matching him and longing for it too.

Just two consensual adults.

With his head lolled to the side now, he eyed your front door. The downstairs light was still on, faintly giving him a blurred image of you moving around between your kitchen and your living room, letting him know you hadn’t made a move to go to bed just yet.

Keys snatched from the ignition, Harry let the drivers door fling open onto the street. A groan omitted from his throat as he dragged himself out of the car and slammed the door shut.

Dress shoes hit the pavement mockingly beneath his feet, because he had prided himself on being a man of his word.

Had.

The night was cold, blowing into his hands to warm them. Harry tugged on the lapels of his suit jacket to sort himself out.

The light in the hallway showed him to you from inside the warmth of your home. The rapt of his knuckles against your glass caused you to pause your hand before it could pour his nightcap offering.

Through the mottled glass he was nothing more than an abstract shape. An abstract shape that caused a nervous sensation in the pit of your stomach.

Bare feet met the black and white tiles of your hallway from your kitchen, shiver shooting through you from how cold they were. You tried to ignore the shake to your hand as it raised to the handle, lingering longer than you wanted to, not needing to second guess yourself but wanting him to wait that little bit longer.

His back faced you as you opened the door, his head turning to look at you from over his left shoulder as he heard the giving way of your door latch. These owlish eyes and innocent face were peering around the front door as you leaned against the wood and watched him lazily set his eyes on you.

“‘S cold in m’ car.”

And part of you knew you shouldn’t give in. But how could you resist the croak of his tone at the way the cold had gone straight to his chest.

Hand reaching out, palm facing up he almost tripped up your doorstep as he placed his larger hand in your much smaller one. Embarrassed grin slid onto his lips as he looked at you with sheepish eyes knowing his clumsiness hadn’t gone unnoticed.

The clink of his keys as they were thrown into the ceramic pot next to your door - like usual - had you releasing a familiarly contented sigh. His eyes caught yours in the mirror that sat above the hall side table, and you confidently held his gaze.

“‘M parked on a double yellow,” he let you know.

“Well then, better make it quick.”

He propelled himself forward, hands rushing as he fumbled to get you in a decent hold. His hand slid across your jaw and underneath your hair as he cupped at the back of your neck.

You clung to the lapels of his jacket, as your hooded eyes peered up at him. His mouth hovered over yours, green eyes speaking words and seeking approvals that his lips couldn’t bring themselves to utter.

The warmth of your breath mixed with his, as his chest felt tight when he leaned forward and brushed his lips over yours. One, two, three times he enticed, his tongue finding yours as you entwined your arms around the back of his neck to anchor yourself to him.

And as you pulled him down to you with a strong tug, the extra weight had the door beneath you pushing shut, the noise of the catch abrupt against both your ears as you remained fixated on each other.

The sound ignited an urgency between you both that had yet to be felt. His hands were back to grabbing, fingers digging as they slid down the back of your night robe.

Harry’s movements were rushed as he hoisted you up, legs wrapping around his narrow hips so easily. He pressed his pelvis against you as he leaned his chest back.

The gap allowed your hands to ruck up his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers before making quick work of the fastening at the front. The zip gave way to your movements, easily, as the sound caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

Your forehead fell against his jawline with a low gasp when you came to realise he was completely naked underneath the expensive outer garment that covered his lower half.

“Mm,” he hummed, nudging his nose at your temple when you found yourself bold enough to brush your hand from around the back of the trouser waistband to the front.

His moan was honeyed, his breath shaky as you didn’t waste time in teasing him. He was pulsing and hot, and had been since you mentioned the idea of him coming inside.

He sighed when your hands ran inside the fabric of his trousers, pushing them down and over his bum and enjoying the tight cut and the way they sat against his stronger and muscular thighs.

As the cold of the hallway enveloped his hard cock, Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

He was smooth, and firm. Hard enough, but likely to get harder if you played with him a bit and guided him and his leaking tip into you.

“Wha’ you gonna do wi’me?” He soothed, his voice rumbling in his chest. “‘S a funny nightcap this, darlin’. Eh?”

His hand tilted your head back, brushing hair off your forehead and frowning at the soft bump of your head against the wooden door.

“Careful.”

It was whispered and held weight. Too much for a quick fumble as he stood proud between the two of you, wet and ready.

Your chest heaved as you pushed your hips into his and the movement created a space between your hips and the door. Not enough that it didn’t mean you wouldn’t be causing it to rattle and shake some time soon, but enough so it allowed him the opportunity to slide his hands to cup your buttocks.

Harry’s eyes dropped now, as he looked between the both of you and felt the way he glided against your glistening wet warmth. You moaned in unison with him as his tip bumped your clit.

“Take me,” he urged, wantonly. “Put me in.”

His lulls of encouragement had you sliding a hand between your bodies, both sets of eyes watching as your hand gently guided him to your entrance.

Tip now brushing your wetness with purpose, he bit away his fulfilled and triumphant smile as he watched the quirk of your lips when you let your head fall back once more.

Snug.

Satisfied.

Sexy.

You held him in you as he felt you around him. Drawing him closer with a silkiness that he happily surrendered to.

His body shook as he held you, legs holding strong and arms determined to do so too. His chuckle was deep and tapered off into a pleasurable groan as he bottomed out and held you against the door with mainly his hips.

“Took me deep,” his voice choked in disbelief, breathing heavily as his mouth pressed to your cheek. The two of you were still as you enjoyed the sensation that you had created.

He swore this was the deepest you have ever taken him. His balls heavily pressed against you. And he smiled at the thought, but he dare not move, regardless of the press of the heels of your feet to his bare bum.

Yet when he did, he only gave your little nudges first. Grinds that don’t give you the desired audible sound of him shagging you. That was until he did. His rhythm building with each thrust until he snapped forward with enough drive that you were keening breathily at him to ‘do it again.’

And the doors began to rattle, the dull thud created by you both causing you to breathily laugh around the kiss you were sharing.

“I can’t stay away from you,” he admitted, mouthing at the corner of your lips and your smile.’“Don’t know why I’m trying to.”

“Stop trying,” you told him.

#harry styles #HSFICSLAM #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry smut #harry styles blurb #harry blurb

[robert-de-niro-only-fans]

Escape

Jimmy Conway x Paulie's Daughter! Reader

Hiiiii, this fic is a little surprise I've been working on and I've got a few others in the works. I hope you guys love it! ❤️

TW: smut, mentions of crime and crime families, murder, marriage, mentions of pregnancy

Word Count: 5.2k

As you stand in front of the mirror, your head spins from the morning you've already had. Women everywhere, whizzing around you doing your hair and makeup, getting you into your wedding dress. All that to make you a bride.

And you do look like a bride, you think as you stare into the mirror.

Behind you, you hear a familiar voice, "Ahem, ladies, could I get a moment alone with our bride?" Jimmy. He's being extra charming today, as many of the women left the room giggling because he spoke to them.

"Wow... (Y/N), you look gorgeous..." he creeps up behind you and delicately places his hands on your sides, as if he might break you. He looks at you in the mirror, before gently placing a kiss on your shoulder. "You're gonna stop traffic when you walk down the aisle. I can't wait to see it," he moves your veil and hair to give you a kiss on the cheek.

You don't say anything, just stare into the mirror. After a small pause, Jimmy turns you around, "Hey, you alright?"

Finally, you get a good look at him in his tux: all black with an off white shirt and a deep green vest peaking out from the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, "Yeah, I'm okay, just nervous," you put your hand on his chest, looking him over again, "I'm glad you're here. You always calm me down, and you look great by the way."

You knew it was an unconventional choice, but you wouldn't have picked anyone else to be your Maid of Honor. And Jimmy was happy to do it for you, even with Tommy and Henry making fun of him for it, at least until they got asked to be bridesmaids.

These were guys that in another life, you never would've been friends with, probably wouldn't have even known. And truthfully, your dad didn't want you being friends with them, because he knows what they are: criminals, nothing but criminals. But they're the only family you have, and Paulie had to admit that it was so cute seeing you get into trouble with Henry and Tommy and then go to "Uncle" Jimmy to get you out of it.

Jimmy wouldn't have done that kind of thing for the guys; they needed to get pinched and learn what it was like, but he would do anything to keep your pretty face out of jail. Since you've grown older, old enough for your father to let you get married, you and Jimmy have grown to be best friends. He's not so much the Uncle he used to be to you.

"(Y/N)?" Jimmy starts, "we got something to tell you, honey."

Just from the man's tone of voice, you can tell something is terribly wrong; you just know him too well. At that point, Jimmy opens the door, and Tommy, Henry, and your dad Paulie shuffle in.

"What's going on?" you say sheepishly, taking a step back from the men before you.

"You may wanna sit down," Jimmy motions to the little couch in the room.

Your dad reaches for one of your hands and you pull it away, "What is it, papa?"

"Sweetie, let's sit down, so we can talk," he places a hand on your back, and you both sit on the couch together. Jimmy, Tommy, and Henry all stand around looking like tough guys: arms crossed, keeping an ear out for anyone who might be listening outside the door, their faces looking stone cold with a bit of worry in their eyes.

"(Y/N), that guy out there," Paulie starts, referring to the groom waiting to marry you, "he ain't the guy you think he is."

"What?" you ask quietly.

"Well, uh, the guys here-" he looks up at the three men standing around you, "Jimmy, uh..." He just couldn't say it to you.

"We've been keeping an eye on this guy, scoping him out," Jimmy finishes for Paulie.

"What? You were spying on my fiancé?" you ask, feeling hurt.

"You didn't think we was just gonna let you marry anyone, did ya?" Tommy pipes up.

"And I'm glad we did," Jimmy cuts back in, "that guy out there, (Y/N), he's a liaison for another crime family! They were using you for information, and now he's able to identify all of us."

"What? No... He's- he's... a union rep," you cast your eyes down as it dawns on you; it was all a lie and a great cover up so he could talk about his friends and you wouldn't even realize. God, did you feel stupid. If anyone was gonna catch him in that lie, it should've been you. "I'm so sorry..." you whisper as tears drop down onto your wedding dress.

Paulie immediately pulls you into a hug, "Hey, hey, it's okay, baby girl. It's okay. The guys here have a plan." He tries to comfort you as you cry into his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, you know I'd never try to put any of you in danger. I'm sorry I was so stupid!!" You feel horrible and angry with yourself.

"Shhh... You gotta keep your voice down, honey," you feel Jimmy's hand rubbing circles into your back as he kneals next to you. "You're not stupid. It took us a long time to crack this guy. He covered his tracks well."

You turn to Jimmy, tears mixed with mascara running down your face. "Hey..." he says, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping the tears from your face, "Don't cry, angel. You shouldn't cry on your wedding day."

"But-" you get close to him, "it's not my wedding day anymore."

"Still," he pulls you up off the couch and into a hug, "you look too pretty to cry, and besides, we gotta get going."

You give him a confused look, trying to get it together, "Get going? Where are we going?"

"Well, uh, you and I are going on your honeymoon; Tommy and Henry know the rest of the plan."

"Honeymoon? We're not gonna cancel it?" you question.

"Listen, sugar," your dad grabs your attention, "this is the one day we can get your fiancé alone. He didn't dare bring any of his associates; we would recognize them, especially after all the recon we've done. So Jimmy's gonna sneak you out of here, and you're gonna go away for a while, and we're gonna get rid of this crook and tie up all the loose ends."

Just a few moments later, Tommy and Henry go back into the church to make it seem like everything is normal. No one is gonna think anything of Jimmy and your dad being with you, because that's the order the ceremony will go in. Your dad waits out in the hallway, as if he's waiting for you to put the last few finishing touches on your dress, and as everyone clears the hall to go to the church, he signals to Jimmy that it's time.

You and Jimmy quietly sneak out of your dressing room to head to the car. Before you run off, you turn back to your dad, giving him a big hug, "Please be careful, papa. I love you so much, and I'll miss you."

"I love you, too, (Y/N)," he gives you a kiss on the forehead, before you turn to head out the back hallway of the reception hall.

On the way out, Jimmy grabs a huge plate of hors d'oeuvres and holds the door open for you. You make your way out to this random convertible (probably stolen), seeing your suitcase in the backseat.

"Mines in the trunk," he lets you know, before setting the plate of food in the back and helping you in the car. Seconds later, you're peeling out of the church parking lot.

• • •

You and Jimmy can't help but laugh as you get further and further away from your wedding ceremony. You can't explain why you're laughing so hysterically, but it feels like old times getting into trouble with Jimmy. Plus, it's a welcome distraction.

"Jimmy," you interject the laughter.

"Yeah?" he asks, coming down from his laughing fit. You've already reached the highway heading from upstate New York into the city to get to the airport.

"Jimmy, I gotta get out of this dress," there's a serious tone in your voice that tells Jimmy this is more urgent than you let on.

He quickly whips out his switch blade, "Okay, lean forward." And then you feel the cool metal of the blade grace your back as he cuts the ribbons corseting your dress.

The dress loosens around you, and you look over at the man, "Thank you," is all you say before sliding the dress down over your hips, then throwing it up in the air, letting the wind take it down the highway. Jimmy has an impressed look on his face as he glances at you with a half smile on his face.

He reaches over, placing a hand on your bare thigh, pulling your wedding garter down your leg before holding it above his head and spinning it around like a lasso. "WOOOOOO!!!!" he yells at the top of his lungs as he flings the little piece of lace. Anything to make you laugh, and it does get a rise out of you.

There's a pause for a moment as Jimmy takes in the view of you in your white lingerie; his eyes don't linger for long though, because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable.

Though, you can't help but feel sexy for moment before climbing into the backseat to change.

"Hey, bring that food up to the front seat when you're done," he says, looking at you in the rearview mirror. You smack his shoulder, realizing he can see you changing. He chuckles and flips the rearview up. You spend the rest of the trip leaning on Jimmy and snacking on the hors d'oeuvres on the tray, until you arrive at the airport.

Because you skipped the wedding ceremony and reception, you arrive way earlier than you're supposed to, but it's no issue, Jimmy already worked it out by moving your flight up. It also works out better, because there will be goons at the airport looking for you, but by the time they get there, you and Jimmy will already be gone.

• • •

After a few hours when you arrive in the Bahamas, Jimmy gently runs his fingers through your hair to wake you up from your nap. You were conked out on his shoulder, exhausted from this morning. "C'mon, sleepyhead, let's go have a honeymoon," he helps get you up and grab your bags.

"Mmmm," you yawn following him, "you say that like it's your honeymoon or something."

"Well, it is now," he chuckles, grabbing your hand to lead you off the plane. After a warm welcome from some locals at the check in desk, you head over to your private villa, right on the beach. Even though it's already dark, the island is beautiful. The warm breeze makes the palm trees wave; the sand is soft under your feet; and the sound of waves crashing is seriously so relaxing.

Inside your villa, it looks so cozy and clean, and you're so ready to get some dinner and go to bed. That's just what you do. Jimmy calls the office to order dinner to your little beach house, and you pop into the bathroom to take a shower and change.

By the time you're done, dinner is too. Jimmy greets you with a little side hug and pulls your chair out for you to sit down at the table. "Comfy? In your little robe and all?" he asks, eyeing you up and down quickly.

"Mm-hmmm," you moan, stuffing your face with delicious food. Jimmy chuckles at you before doing the same.

After getting your bellies full on tasty seafood, you decide that it would be a good idea to go to sleep, that way you can make the most of your time on this lovely island.

As you and Jimmy make your way to the bedroom, you're met with a reminder of why you're there in the first place: rose petals and candles littering the room.

Jimmy sees the way you pause, "Do you want me to get rid of this stuff?"

"I- uh, no... It's okay," you look back and forth between him and your bed.

"Here," he says, leading you to the couch, "Stay here."

He goes into the bedroom and closes the door behind him. For a few moments you hear huffing and thudding as he blows out candles and throws them in the trash, and you hear his arms hitting the bed as he wipes the rose petals away. Jimmy exits the room with a trash bag in tow, tossing it out on the front patio before returning to the living room, breathing a little heavy, and holding his arm out, motioning you to the bedroom.

You stand up and put your arms around him, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek, "Thank you, Jimmy."

He places his arm around your waist and presses a cheek to your head, "You're welcome, sweetie. Now go to bed."

"You're not coming?" you ask.

"I'll sleep on the couch. You have a good night, and sweet dreams," he gives your arm a squeeze before heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

As you settle into bed and try to sleep, it sinks in. Your relationship that you'd been so happy in is over... And here you are in another country for an undetermined amount of time while your ex-fiancé gets "taken care of." Even though his intention was to hurt you, you can't help but mourn what feels like the loss of your happiness. In fact, there's only one place you can feel happy right now, and you won't sleep until you're there.

"Jimmy?" you whisper through your sniffles. You stand before him as he sleeps soundly on the couch. "Jimmy?" A little louder this time, and that does the trick.

The man takes in a sharp inhale through his nose and his eyes pop open, "(Y/N), hey," he rubs his eyes, "you okay?" You just stand there quietly sniffling, and then Jimmy sees the redness in your face, "Hey, hey, c'mere honey, c'mere." He holds the blanket up for you to climb in, and he immediately wraps his arms around you, cuddling you in his cozy little spot on the couch. You simply bury your head into his chest, and let out a few tears. "Shhhh, shhh," he says as if cooing a baby, "it's okay, I'm here, everything's gonna be alright."

• • •

The sun brightly lights the whole open floor plan of your beach side escape, warming you and Jimmy in your bundle of blankets. You awake to the feeling of his fingers lazily combing through your hair, and when you crack your eyes open, you see him happily smiling down at you. You place a hand on his chest, and he covers it with one of his own, giving your fingers a squeeze.

"Morning, you hungry?" he greets you.

"Mmmm... Good morning, sweet man," you happily nuzzle into him.

He cups a hand on the back of your head, "Whaddaya say we get some breakfast, then ya wanna go swimming later today? Hm? We got that beautiful beach right out there." His head motions towards the large glass doors that look out onto the sand and sea.

"Only if we can stay here a little longer," you hum into his chest, perfectly content with just cuddling up to him all day long.

"Okay, princess, we can stay a little longer."

• • •

After a relaxed morning (yes, you both dozed back off to sleep for a while) and a nice breakfast of fresh fruits, juice, and pastries, you wait on the back patio for Jimmy to change into his swimsuit. When the sliding glass door glides open, you turn and see the man in swim trunks that hit about mid-thigh, short sleeve button up shirt that's unbuttoned, a gold chain, and a cigarette. Of course Jimmy dresses like that for the beach.

"Whaddaya think? How do I look?" he jokes at you.

You walk over and places your hands on his bare chest. "The view looks pretty good from here," you chuckle lowly.

Jimmy grunts, "You better watch those hands of yours," he warns, moving you off his chest before lightly taking your fingers in his. "Alright, let's go," he says, leading you towards the waves.

"Ya know, uh," Jimmy catches your attention.

"Hmm?" you chirp, hand still happily in his.

"How come you're still wearing this?" he asks, holding your hand up, and tapping his thumb on your engagement ring.

"Oh... um... I'm not sure, honestly," you look down at your hands, wringing them together and fidgeting with the little piece of jewelry. As you take your first few steps into the ocean, you slip the ring from your finger. "I guess it doesn't mean anything anymore," you ponder to yourself before chucking it into the water.

Jimmy raises his eyebrows in surprise, "You didn't wanna sell it?"

You turn around and pat him on the chest, "I know you and the boys back home will make me more money than that ring is worth. It wouldn't surprise me if it was fake, knowing what I know now."

• • •

Time got away from you as the two of you enjoyed your day in the sun. After walking along the beach and Jimmy dunking you in the waves a few times (don't worry, you got him back), it's already early afternoon. And boy, were you beat.

"Hmmm, I think it's time for a nap!" you yawn, "This sun has got me drained."

"Wanna go inside?" Jimmy points to your little beach house.

"Yeah, but I don't think I can walk another step," you whine playfully, giving the man puppy eyes.

There's a long pause as Jimmy gives you a serious look, but he's only kidding. "You want me to carry you, don't you?"

"Yes, please!"

And with that, your feet are swept out from under you. Jimmy walks you across the sand and through the sliding glass door, right to the bathroom.

"What are we doing in here?" you question as he walks right into the shower, "Jimmy?!"

"Gotta rinse all the salt and sand off," is all he gets out before the shower faucet sprays cold water on you and the man holding you. You squeal loudly and practically jump from Jimmy's arms! You hold onto him tightly for warmth; luckily the water heats up quickly though.

"You bastard!!" you yell and give the man a swift pop on the chest.

"OW!" he giggles and rubs the spot that is quickly turning red.

Your face forms a pout, feeling bad for smacking him, "I'm sorry." You take a step forward and rub your hand on his chest to sooth the spot. When you place your other hand on his chest, you look up at him. Suddenly you feel his strong hands gripping the back of your head, and his lips meet yours. Your back comes into contact with the shower wall, and you're completely surrounded. You feel the muscles of Jimmy's arms squeezing around you as his tongue urges it's way into your mouth.

You could hardly explain it: the timing and the situation feel so wrong, but he feels so 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, like everything you had ever wanted- no, 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥.

Water soaks your hair, your face, your bodies as Jimmy fiercely kisses you. He's almost scared to stop.

But when you gently suck his bottom lip into your mouth and give it a nibble, it's game over.

Your friend-turned-lover rips open the shower curtain and starts walking you to the bedroom, his lips and his body never leaving yours. His tropical shirt slaps the ground in a wet heap, quickly followed by his swim trunks.

His lips find your neck, and you finally get a moment to catch your breath. Pressed against him as you step backwards, you feel his hands frantically working the straps of your swimsuit. You pull back from him just enough to see his face, and he freezes like a deer in headlights.

You simply look each other over, taking in the features of the other's face for a moment, before you lean forward and place your lips to his chastely, kissing him just once or twice. His rough hands gently caress your back, and then things turn passionate again when he slowly removes your top.

You always thought you'd be nervous to be with Jimmy, but after all, this is a man that you trust with your life. Wait- always? Did this imply you'd thought about being with him before?

In the heat of the moment you couldn't make sense of it. All you know right now is that Jimmy already has you naked and on the bed. It feels like your emotions are in a whirlwind, but Jimmy makes you feel good and you want more.

Your hands rake through his still wet hair, as he showers your chest in affection by kissing and sucking at your collarbone and breasts. He travels further down your body with his ministrations, until he reaches your soft inner thighs. You can feel his five o'clock shadow scratching at the delicate skin there, before he stops and looks up at you nervously. You'd never seen this man look nervous before.

His eyes beg for permission to go down on you and his hot breath passes over your center. You simply push down on his head a bit as a signal to go.

With his elbows buried in the soft mattress, forearms wrapped around your thighs, and eyes closed in concentration, his mouth surrounds that little bundle of nerves, lighting a fire in your belly. The sound of him breathing through his nose and your moans fill the room. Every hair on your body stands on end and your toes curl at the feeling of Jimmy Conway giving you head.

Oh God, Jimmy Conway is giving you head... Jimmy Conway your best friend. Jimmy Conway your Maid of Honor? You quickly push that thought away, then raise your head to look down at the man happily working away between your legs.

This is something you never thought you'd do with Jimmy, yet here you are, and oddly, it feels so... comfortable. You aren't nervous at all. Of course, you can't speak for him.

You lightly scruff up his hair, breathing heavily, "Jimmy..." The first word anyone had said in a while.

"Huh?" he says just after a loud slurping noise. His mouth hangs open in a relaxed way as he catches his breath and looks up at you from under his brow bone.

You let out a laugh in the form of a puff of air and a smile. Jimmy returns the smile; it's a happy smile with a hint of playful mischief in his eyes. A giggle slips out of you, then you both start laughing. At what, you aren't quite sure... the situation, maybe?

Your lover crawls on top of you and cuddles you by pressing his chest to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. Your hands explore his back, lightly scraping your nails over his shoulder blades and the small of his back.

He lets out a soft but deep moan before moving to kiss you again. His fingers nestle in your hair as he softly shows you his affection with his mouth. Your hands rest on his cheeks as he centers himself on top of you, one of his hands gripping under your thigh.

"This alright, princess?" he says in a near whisper.

"Yeah..." you exhale.

"You ready?" He gives you a kiss on the cheek.

"Yeah," you repeat, "I am." You give him a warm smile, cupping a hand on his face again, as if framing it to take a mental snapshot.

His next actions are incredibly gentle, but it makes everything all the more sensual. He plants a few kisses on your neck and collarbone before sitting up on his knees. His arm wraps around your thigh, holding it up in the air, as he aligns the head of his member with your entrance. The tip slides in pretty easily because of your wetness, and you can see Jimmy's breathing deepen; after that, the man moves slowly entering you, making you feel every inch of his length.

You had barely started and you're already both a mess. The pleasure is almost too much to take. Once Jimmy starts to move his hips, he leans forward once again, hovering over you on his hands and knees. You look up into his eyes, feeling his hardness moving inside you. Wanting to be closer to you, he drops down to his elbows and brings his knees up. His hands stroke some hair from your face while his hips rut into yours at a teasing pace.

After appreciating your how pretty you are, Jimmy moves his lips next to your ear and lowly says, "You feel incredible, baby. You feel so good..." He gives you a series of sloppy kisses on your jaw and earlobe.

You simply close your eyes, relax into the man on top of you, and give him an airy moan in response, "You feel good too, Jimmy."

"Mmmm, you like this pace? Or you want me to speed up?" You can feel his hot breath against your neck.

"Maybe, um, deeper?"

"Deeper, huh?" he whispers in your ear, "You wanna feel more of me?" He throws a little chuckle on the end of his question, and he readjusts by hooking a hand under your knee and pushing it up towards you for a deeper feeling while remaining close to you.

With each thrust you let out a grunt or breath of some kind, "Oooh... T-that's- Hnnng!"

"That the spot, baby girl?" Jimmy smiles to himself, happy that he's pleasing you.

A very shaky "mm-hmm" is all you can manage.

Jimmy speeds up his movements just a little, but still maintains a leisurely and romantic mood.

With a gasp, you start, "Jimmy, I- I'm-"

"Cum for me, baby," he coos, lightly sucking and nipping at a little spot on your neck.

"Fuck- Jimmy..." your climax hits you hard, making your head spin, and the only thing you can think about is the man before you, "Jimmy, I- I love you. I love you, Jimmy!"

Before you even have a moment to think about what you'd said, you hear, "I love you, too, (Y/N)," and several grunts and groans as he finds his release inside you.

Jimmy rolls off of you and trucks himself into your side. You hold the man in your arms tightly as you both come down from the high you just experienced. You turn your head to see him nuzzled into the crook of your neck, almost as if he's asleep. He cracks his eyes open at you and props himself up, putting his face close to yours.

You feel... shy for some reason as you press your lips to his, almost as if this is somehow more vulnerable than what you'd just done. You kiss each other softly, over and over, for what feels like a few minutes.

"You know, I didn't know you were close to finishing too," you tell Jimmy, trying to break some tension.

"Mm, well, I told you you felt good," he gives you a half smile, "I didn't know you loved me."

"Oh, well... It just kind of came out, but, uh, it was true. Still is." Another sweet kiss.

"You remember when I told you I couldn't wait to see you walk down that aisle? That was true too," he tells you.

You aren't sure where that came from, and it confuses you, "But... You knew I wasn't gonna get married that day."

"Yeah, but I am gonna see you walk down the aisle one day... when you marry me," he looks down and bites his lip.

You let out a flabbergasted little breath, "Jimmy..."

"C'mon, (Y/N)," he coos, "I love you. I wasn't gonna ever let you marry that other guy. Why do you think I looked into him so hard?"

"I don't understand. Why didn't you just ask me out years ago?" your question ends in a whisper.

"'Cuz I didn't realize what I had 'til I saw it in another man's arms," he tangles his fingers in your hair for another kiss, "but I'm not gonna let it get away from me this time."

• • •

Needless to say, you didn't see much of the beach or much of anyone the rest of your time in the Bahamas. You two already knew everything there was to know about another person, so you spent a lot of time exploring each other... in new ways.

So, it's bittersweet going home to Brooklyn. You'd been away a few months to let tensions between the two crime families die down. You would miss all of the alone time with your new man, but you're so happy to see your dad again.

"Thanks for driving us home from the airport, papa," you say, giving Paulie a side hug as he unlocks the door to the house not too far from the cab stand. You're greeted with hoots and hollers from Tommy, Henry and Karen, Tuddy, and a few others as you step inside. "What's this?!"

"Oh, uh, just a little surprise," Paulie chuckles, "A welcome home party for Jimmy and my girl."

Everyone starts exchanging hugs, giving you and Jimmy a proper New York welcome. As you put your arms around Henry's shoulders, you hear Karen from behind him, "OH no! I know ya not still wearin' your engagement ring," she grabs your hand and pulls you toward her to inspect the ring closer. Her voice lowers a bit, "No, this one's different. It's got pearls on it."

The room is filled with confused faces, until Jimmy takes your other hand in his, "Well, uh, we were on a little island for 2 or 3 months, pearls was all they had!"

Suddenly you're surrounded with Ooh's and Aah's and an "Attaboy Jimmy!" as it dawns on everyone that you're engaged.

"Hey, wait 'til they tell ya about how I'm gonna be a grandad!!" Paulie announces, and again the room fills with noise from everyone's surprise and congratulations. Any other family might have found it odd that you rushed into a new relationship, but this group likes keeping a closed circle, and everyone had their bets placed on you and Jimmy from day one.

Speak of the Devil, you feel his arms slip around you and a hand rests on your baby bump. He whispers in your ear, "I love you both so much. This is the way it always shoulda been."

#robert de niro #robert de niro x reader #robert de niro fanfic #jimmy conway #goodfellas #jimmy conway x reader #fanfic

[liron-ao3]

Stranger things

Dean puts the sunglasses on and leans back in the passenger seat. Sam shakes his head. He doesn't get it. He would drop everything if he got another shot at love, if Jess would come back from the dead and smile at him as Cassie smiled at Dean.

Being the little brother of a stubborn mule like Dean isn't always easy. Sam just wants to grab him and shake sense into him. He could have it all, but instead, they are driving around, chasing a father who doesn't want to be found and monsters that line their path.

It's so futile. They are sacrificing everything they have, as little as it is. And for what? Their father's revenge trip and a cause they never subscribed to out of free will.

Sam shakes his head and chews his lip. He had always thought very little about Dean's sex life. It seemed like a string of meaningless encounters, a way to prove what a stunner he is. It always felt a little fake, but maybe it was simply a way to protect his heart from the same pain Sam is going through.

But Cassie somehow broke through Dean's veneer, cracked the shell around his brother's heart and tore down his walls. Dean wouldn't confess it to anyone, but Sam knows that he loves that woman. Not in a nice fling kinda way, but deeply. It breaks Sam's heart to see Dean shrug off the loss, outwardly at least.

But Winchesters don't talk about feelings. Maybe Campbells do, and Sam comes more after their mum. But Dean is thick-headed like their old man, unwilling to talk. Or he's only protecting Sam, as he always does.

What Sam would give for one open conversation, with snot and tears, yelling and hugs. But not now. Dean is too raw. So Sam lets it go. His brother is in hopeless love, and they are not meant to be happy. They only have each other, and one way or another, this must be enough.

***

"Remember Cassie?" Sam asks, seemingly out of the blue.

Dean looks up from his laptop. "Yes. Why?"

Sam shrugs. "You've got the same face that you had back then."

"What are you talkin' about, man? There's no woman in my life."

Sam chews his lip for a moment and nods. He knows that. "You really loved her, didn't you?"

Dean exhales sharply and shuts his laptop with a loud click. "Is this about Eileen?"

Sam blinks at him several times. "No. Why?"

"Hey, I think she's cool, alright? I'm happy for you. But don't make this about me, okay? I swore off love a long time ago. It's better this way."

"Why? You don't think you deserve to be loved?" Sam can't help but scoff.

Dean huffs a mirthless laugh. "It's not always about what we think we deserve, Sammy. Some things simply aren't meant to be." Dean pushes his jaw forward, stubbornness winning over voicing emotions once more. Not that Sam wouldn't see the tears pricking his brother's eyes.

He shakes his head in defeat. "Love could stare you in the face, and you'd be too pigheaded to grab it by his lapels," Sam presses out. Dean's face goes slack and his cheeks dust over in a pretty pink. Sam would laugh if it weren't too sad that his brother thinks he can't talk with him about the man he so clearly loves. And who so obviously loves him back. It's enough to drive him up the wall sometimes.

Sam pats Dean on his shoulder and moves to the doorway. "I love you, Dean. I just want you to be happy." He looks at his brother, a ghost of a smile running over his lips. Maybe, if he can show him that their lives and love are compatible, maybe then, his brother will dare to grab the bull by the horns and take what he deserves. Stranger things have happened in their lives than finding someone who loves them, after all. Yes, even if it's a holy tax accountant.

~~~~~

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