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madsmax13 · 5 months

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Din Djarin: Come and Get Me

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After a job leaves you trapped, you realize how much you have come to trust the legendary Mandalorian.

Excerpt: “Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

Warnings: claustrophobia, panicking, panic attack, crying, so much banter, dinny boy gets *stern, * but only because he is in love hehe.

A/N: happy dincember my people :)

Pedro Masterlist

All my writing

(gif credit to pinterest)

“Why are droids always so angry?”

A deep sigh arose through your comlink.

“Because everyone is always pushing their buttons.”

Silence.

“You’re holding back your laughter.”

“That is absolutely not what is happening,” Din responded, voiced husked with his ever-present exhaustion.

“I can feel it,” you countered. “You are actively killing braincells trying to hold it back.”

“That is not what is killing my braincells,” Din responded, and you gave a dry chuckle back.

“Just get the credits and get out,” Din said, “we have other jobs to do.”

“Yes sir,” you responded sarcastically, pulling down your mask. It was a soft obsidian fabric that covered everything but your eyes.

“Need I remind you it is your fault we are here in the first place?” Din asked, knowing it would push your own button.

Greef had known you since you were a kid, your parents always calling him a “close family friend.” In actuality, your parents were his most profitable bounty hunters, and they had worked with him until they physically couldn’t anymore.

Without hesitation, choosing you take their place.

They had trained you from birth, ingraining into you the strength, cleverness, patience, persistence, and of course the wit needed to be an adequate replacement.

In Greef’s own words, you were “more than adequate.”

You worked for him for over a decade before finally meeting the infamous Mandalorian. His name had been circling for a while before you met him, allowing him to climb the ladder of Greef’s good graces (a particularly slippery ladder, in your opinion), as well as the ladder of wealth. You didn’t mind at first, sticking to the lot of bounties Greef would assign you every month, and minding your business.

That was until this Mandalorian started getting your pick of the lot.

“He’s just as good as you are,” Greef had said to you. “Your skill sets are incredibly complimentary. It is best for me financially to have you both going at once.”

You scoffed into your drink. “Give me a break, smartass. Next thing I know it will ‘best for you financially’ to have us working together.”

“It was a joke, asshole,” you responded to Din. “I’ll admit, not one of my best.”

Din sighed and remained silent. After two dozen jobs together, he had learned how old that jab was becoming.

“Going in now,” you said quietly, pulling out your gun and – as quietly as you could – shooting through the lock on the front door of what had to have been the biggest house you had ever seen. The outside was made with some rare limestone that glimmered in the moonlight which, in your opinion, literally shouted “rob me.” The owners of this house had tricked Greef, running off with the sum of money he had owed you and Din for a previous job (quite convenient, if you said so yourself). Greef agreed to pay you and Din triple your original salary if you got it back for him.

And here you were.

The door squeaked on its hinges as you opened it, revealing a pitch-black living area. You took one step inside, and as you did, a generator must have kicked on, because the room was instantly lit up. You gasped, stepping back in fear of a possible alarm, but as you waited a few seconds, there was no such thing.

“You okay?” Din asked quietly. If you weren’t shitting your pants, you might have teased him for seeming like he actually cared.

“Yeah,” you responded, winded. “Yeah. Fine.”

You looked around the room, jaw falling open slowly as you did. It might as well have been a museum. Paintings, vases, chandeliers, stones, and jewels. You could tell one thing and one thing only.

Whoever these people were, they were fucking loaded.

“Hey, Din,” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“Did Greef say anything about being allowed to steal anything else?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Got it,” you said, and moved further into the house.

“Greef paid some gungan to have dinner with them, so there shouldn’t be anyone in the house.”

“I was at the meeting for this job, Din.”

“I know,” he said, “Just checking.”

His voice was laced with an undertone of…hurt. You didn’t have time to think about that.

“I’m headed to the master bedroom,” you said, weaving your way through objects worth more than you would ever see in ten lifetimes. “I’ll let you know when I find the box.”

“Alright,” Din responded, and you carried on.

You circled the first floor of the house, hemming and hawing at what seemed to be an endless supply of riches.

“Are we focused, Y/N?”

“Lazer,” you responded after almost touching the shiniest blue stone you had ever seen. “Nothing on the first floor.”

“Okay,” Din responded. “How-how you holding up?”

Your eyebrows wrinkled together. “Fine. How about you?”

“I’m good,” he said softly. “Just now realizing we have never done a job like this before. Me only hearing you through the comlink. I’m used to being next to you.”

“Oh, the poor Mandalorian, all alone in the desert, cursed with the job of keeping watch. You missing me big guy?”

“Just missing being faster than you,” he jabbed. “It’s good for my ego.”

“Har har,” you responded, opening the first door you found at the top of the stairs. “You can’t deny I give you a run for your money though.”

“You sure do,” he said, once again laced with emotion. What the fuck was with him?

And why did you keep noticing?

You opened the door and were welcomed by what had to have been the biggest bed you had ever seen in your life. It took up half the room, with the rest of it being looted with more treasures, including plants, shelves of books, and…

…a music box.

“Bingo,” you said.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a game you play for fun,” you responded. “You wouldn’t be familiar with the concept.”

“Very original.”

“I’ll be here all night,” you said with a smirk, and walked to the box. You pulled it off the shelf delicately, feeling the weight of credits in the bottom. You laughed happily, unable to hold it in.

Din laughed too. He understood immediately.

You felt for the seal on the front and began to pull it open carefully. You got it about halfway open before it immediately shut, snapping your fingers into it.

“Mother –” you said, pulling your fingers out and holding them to your chest.

“You okay?” Din asked quickly, almost as soon as the word left your mouth.

“Yeah,” you said, flexing your fingers. You laughed lightly. “I think this house may be out to get me.”

As if you spoke it into existence, all the lights in the house suddenly shut down, soaking you in darkness. Strobe lights of red began to pulse on the ceiling, the door to the bedroom shut automatically, and an ear-piercing alarm permeated the room.

You were suddenly unmoving.

“Y/N?” Din asked, his voice a whisper above the alarms. “Y/N, what is that?”

The box fell from your grip.

“Din…” you said, chest constricting, muscles locking, brain failing. “Din…”

“What’s going on?”

You started shaking your head, making your way to the door slowly. You jiggled the doorknob, then pulled on it, then yanked on it, then threw your body into it.

It was no use. You were locked in from the outside.

“Din, I –” your voice cracked with a sob. “Din, I’m stuck.”

“What do you mean?” He sounded like he was walking.

“I’m-I’m trapped,” you said, sobs now fully escaping from your mouth. “Din I’m trapped. They know I’m here. They’re gonna…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, hand cupping your mouth as you began to hyperventilate, because suddenly, you were a child again. Put up against one of your parents’ countless tests. Locked in a basement, or a ship, or your own room, forced to find a way out, told that in the real world, if you couldn’t find a way out, you would likely be killed.

You could never pasts their tests. Never.

“Din, they’re gonna kill me.”

“Shut up,” he said firmly. It sounded like he was moving faster. “You’re not gonna die.”

His tone was unconvincing.

“Din,” you cried, tears staining the fabric covering your face, snot soaking through it. Panic was seeping itself into your bones. “Din, what do I do? What do I do?”

“You’ve gotta find a way out.”

“I can’t,” you wheezed, body sliding down the door and onto the floor, the alarms and the red overstimulating your every nerve. “I can’t Din. It’s so loud,”

“Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

You nodded, now plugging your ears, and closing your eyes, rocking yourself back and forth subconsciously.

“I’m going to get you out of there,” he said, his voice suddenly nasally. “I swear to the maker I’m going to get you out of there. I just need your help, okay?”

You tried your best to gather breath. “Okay. Okay.”

“Okay,” he said. “I need you to see if there are any windows in the room. Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed, standing on shaking legs, ears still plugged. You squinted as you walked slowly, finally reaching a wall. You then felt the wall with one hand and walked forward until you felt something that resembled glass.

“I-I found one.”

“Good,” he said, sounding peculiarly winded. “Now, I’m going to need you to break it.”

You sobbed once more. “How?”

“Anything. Shoot at it, throw things at it, the fucking music box for all I care. Anything.”

You swallowed again, breathing in as deep of a breath as you could, before pulling out your gun. You felt the glass once again, and slowly backed away from it. You continued to release faint cries as you did, holding up your gun with quivering fingers, before letting blasts fly.

You heard some cracks as they landed against the glass. Once you halted your firing, you made your way back over to it, and realized they weren’t nearly enough.

“I’m going to have to kick it,” you said, some semblance of power returning into your voice.

Din didn’t respond.

You backed away again, breaths still rapid and voice still raw. But you gave that piece of fucking glass your all.

Your foot went right through it, cutting shards into your calf and ankle.

You grunted, falling back into the room.

“You get it?” Din asked, panting.

“Yeah,” you said, clutching your leg. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Good. Now stand up.”

You did.

“Walk to the window.”

You did.

“And jump.”

“What?”

“Jump now.”

It was in that moment that you realized that you truly, unequivocally, deeply trusted the Mandalorian. Because you jumped into the dark, cold night, and he caught you, mid-air.

You gasped as you landed in his arms, watching as the ground beneath you whizzed by, eyelids pealed back in awe.

A smooth, gloved hand framed your cheek and pulled your vision upwards, locking it into his visor.

You stared at him, the remnants of tears against the cold wind freezing your face, and yet his hand was the true culprit of your goosebumps.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. The flames from his jet pack illuminating his armor in golds and reds.

You nodded. “I’m okay.”

He nodded, diverting his gaze to stare forward into the night, but keeping his hand pressed against your face.

You would say it was the shock, or the trauma, or the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In reality, all you wanted was comfort – his comfort. You couldn’t stop yourself.

You rested your forehead against the side of his visor and closed your eyes, scooting your body as close to his as possible as the two of you shot through the sky.

“Thank you, Din,” you said, tears escaping you once more. “Thank you.”

Din audibly swallowed, then removed his hand from your cheek and used it to remove your mask, before sliding his hand into the hair at the back of your neck.

“I swore to you I’d get you out of there,” he said, his voice crackly and weak. “I don’t break promises.”

You nodded against his visor, clutching desperately onto the fabric around his neck. He smelled of sweat, metal, and home.

“I’ve got you now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Tag list: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

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@lexloon @pauphs @enjoyyourlatttebitch

@miss-goldenweek

@darling-murdockk @1deadpool266 @queen-nothing-blogg @burnt-dorito @untitledareaa @julialoopeezz @daphne-turner @jediknightjanaa @sasakipspoststs

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madsmax13 · 5 months

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Benedict Bridgerton x Princess Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

As you made your way through Buckingham Palace, you ran into your mother, Queen Charlotte. Being the youngest of your siblings and your mother's miracle child meant she held you dearly in her heart. But what made her anxious about today's ball was that it was going to be your first debutante ball.

Making it her personal mission to make the ball perfect meant you hadn't seen her. "Good morning, Mother," you said as you bowed elegantly. She made her way over to you and placed her hand on the bottom of your chin, lifting your delicate features.

"Y/N, just the person I was looking for. Do you like these flowers to go with today's theme or these?" She said as she pointed to two bouquets. One was filled with white roses and pink tulips, adorned with different greenery added into it. The other bouquet had white tulips but was mostly filled by baby's breath, of course with the added greenery.

"The first one is beautiful, of course, but the second one seems to grab my attention more. Especially the baby's breath, it can mean purity and innocence, what I am to be for my husband." You said to your mother.

Your mother turned to look at you, pride seeping through her features as she couldn't hold back the tears welling up in her eyes. She grabbed your hands and held them with sincerity. "I am truly proud of what you have become, and I know you will make a sensational wife and mother."

You couldn't hide your smile from her. You loved your mother very much and wished you could be just like her, a loving wife. You had to leave her so you could start getting ready for the ball and quickly make your way to your room. You had your maid, Annabeth, help you pick a dress for the ball. You both decided on a pale pink dress with embroidered flowers matching the ones in your hair.

Annabeth helped put half of your hair up, putting it into a bun while having the rest curled freely. She grabbed some flowers and put them into your hair as she grabbed your crown. It was bigger than the other debutante but still had the simplicity that captured a man's attention. Annabeth helped you with your shoes next and chose a pair of pearl earrings and a pearl necklace.

Before you leave, you remembered to bring a feathered fan, a trick your mother had shown you not too long ago. Your mother is waiting for you outside of your room with her dog, Charles, whom you had given to her not long ago. She looks at you shocked as she eyed you up and down.

Queen Charlotte slowly made her way over to you and gripped your shoulders tenderly. "You are most perfection, my dear, wonderful job on today's dress." You couldn't hold back the smile you gave her as you gave her a quick hug filled with love. She laughed out loud and reciprocated your hug and held you tighter.

You both had to wait until the guests had fully arrived and held on to each other for support. "Y/N, promise me you'll find someone who you will love and cherish with your whole existence? And that you'll visit me often!" You nodded towards her as you heard both your names being announced.

The ballroom became hushed as they announced your mother's name and then yours. The doors opened, and your mother pushed forward, pulling you with her. Both of you stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the gentlemen and ladies. Synchronized, you both went down the stairs slowly and poised.

Once you reached the floor, your mother grabbed your hand and kissed your cheek, earning the soft awe of mothers. You decided you wanted to get a drink to quench your thirst and sipped on a lemonade.

You started to walk around, noticing the many staring young suitors around the ballroom. Being a princess ment you were in everyone's list of prominent wives. The ton also knew you would either be Duchess of Sussex or next in line for the throne after your brother George.

As you walked around the ballroom, you noticed a certain lord looking over at you. Lord Berbrooke made his way towards you, pushing anyone in his way. His eyes never left your body and smirked in a disgusting manner.

You turned around quickly and made your way across the ballroom hurriedly. Lord Berbrooke was catching up to you, but before he could reach for your wrist, you noticed a certain Bridgerton.

Benedict Bridgerton was the most handsome man you had ever seen and one of the most lovable. But you knew you couldn't be with him because of his lover, Madam Delacroix. Remembering your situation, you hurriedly made your way over to Benedict to escape Lord Berbrooke.

"Lord Bridgerton, would you do me the honor of having this dance with me?" Benedict looked taken aback but accepted your invitation, offering his arm towards you. You both made your way over to the dance floor capturing the attention of the ton.

As you both held each other, you couldn't help but feel his arm wrap around your waist softly and offer his hand for you to take. "What a surprise, Princess Y/N. I never expected you to choose me for your first dance." His eyes never leaving your own and moving gracefully to the melodic music.

"Please don't fluff your pride. I needed help with escaping a certain Lord. Lord Berbrooke tells everyone I am to be his princess and the mother of his children." You said as you rolled eyes while Benedict was chuckling to himself.

"Princess Y/N, do you wish to be a mother, or are you more concentrated on your throne?" You smiled at his question, answering diligently. "I wish to have a big family full of love and honesty. To tell you the truth, I wouldn't mind being away from the crown and living a simple life that I could enjoy. My husband shall be the most important person in my life as they will be my soul mate and lover. My purity is solely for them, and my moments shall be enjoyed with them. I wish to find a husband who is passionate about what he does while also loving me for me." You answered while your eyes looked around every couple dancing.

Benedict couldn't take his eyes off of you. You showed such grace, worthy of a princess, but expressed your wanting for a normal life. Benedict could remember all the times he had seen you with Queen Charlotte looking gorgeous. Your presence exuded a powerful leader while your very being showed a caring and kind person.

The perfect mix for the future crown princess of the Great nation.

"Lord Bridgerton, how do you feel about having a wife?" Benedict looked at you with confusion, his eyebrows scrunching together as he slightly shook his head. "I have been meaning to find one, but it seems I always get distracted with painting. But I hope to find a wife that is as loving as you."

Benedict looked down towards the shock in your face. You looked towards his gentle eyes and smiled a pure smile. "Then Lord Bridgerton, let's get married." In that moment, Benedict seized from dancing and looked at the ton that was staring back. Chills ran through his spine at the thought of marrying you. Sure, you were beautiful, kind, gentle, and admirable, but you were a princess. You didn't belong with someone like him.

"I must reject you, Princess Y/N. I only see you as a friend, not a lover." Benedicts' composure fell at the sight of a single tear falling from your eye. "What if I told you, Lord Bridgerton, that I fell in love with you from afar? Would that change anything?"

"I'm afraid I can't reciprocate your feelings, Your Highness. I just see you as a friend." Oh , how he wished he had said yes, he knew that he too had fallen in love with you from afar. He missed the feeling of your hands on him and could only stare at your retreating figure. "Lord Bridgerton, thank you for rejecting her. I truly appreciate it!" He turned around only to see Lord Berbrooke excited with a long grin in his face.

"Whatever do you mean Berbrooke?"

"Well, if it wasn't for you rejecting, I would have never had the chance of being with her. So I thank you." Berbrooke patted Benedicts shoulder walking away to go and find you. Benedicts fist wrapped tightly around itself as he looked over at you, longing in his stare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Benedict could not think about anything other than you until he heard Francesca mention your brethothal. "Did you hear, mother? Princess Y/N is engaged to Duke Simon Hastings, it's all over Lady Wistledown." Violet rushed over her daughter and snatched the paper from her. Looking over to Daphne, she watched as her daughters heart broke, but in that moment, they heard a knock.

"Please, right now is not the time. If it is about lunch, then we -" You walked in with a sad expression on your face, smiling at the family you couldn't help but notice the lingering stare of a certain Bridgerton. "No, Lady Violet, I don't bring lunch. I wanted to explain my betrothal to Simon Hastings." You looked over at Daphne, who your mother named her diamond at her last ball.

You knew she had fallen in love with Simon and how he felt for her, too. The room fell for you to explain. Before you did, you got something from your pocket hidden in your dress. It was a box that contained a diamond necklace, which was a present from your mother. You walked over to Daphne and sat next to her, offering the box to her.

She opened it and looked at it as she gasped at the sight. "You know he's afraid of marriage." Daphne, along with the Bridgertons, looked over at you with wonder. "Daphne," you said as you grabbed her hand, "I don't think of Simon as a husband or companion. Rather, I see him as a brother. He proposed to me after he saw Nigel Berbrooke try to take advantage of me." Before you could say anything, Benedict sprung at the sound of Nigel.

"Nigel tried to come onto you? Are you sure you are okay?"

"Yes, Benedict, I am sure thank you, anyways Daphne."

"When did he try?"

"What?"

"When did he try?"

"After you rejected me at the ball my mother had for me." Violet gasped at the fact Benedict had rejected you. Violet was too busy with Daphne to notice your dancing with Benedict. But you gave them a look that said let me finish. "Daphne, I'll break off the engagement today because I know how Simon feels about you."

Daphne couldn't help but question you, "What do you mean feels about me?" You couldn't believe Daphne hadn't seen the way Simon looked at her or how he held his breath when she was not with him. "Daphne, he is utterly and truly in love with you. Use this information at your will. That necklace is called the Necklace of Soulmates, which is said to bring to you the one who's meant to be with you."

Daphne looked down at the necklace and then looked at you as she mouthed a thank you. You offered her a smile as you got up to leave the beloved Bridgerton home. Before you could leave the Bridgerton home, you heard Benedict calling your name.

You ignored him and continued your way into the carriage. Just as you were about to enter, you felt Benedict grab your wrist and pull you back towards him. He wrapped his hand around yours and placed his other on your warm cheek.

"Y/N, once you break your engagement, will Nigel keep bothering you?" Benedict had a tone of urgency to his voice. He stared deeply into your eyes, scanning them for a truthful answer.

"Lord Bridgerton, let me go right now." You said, demanding out of annoyance.

"Answer me, Y/N. Please."

"After I break my engagement, Nigel plans to propose to me. But I'll probably find another man, seeming that I am a princess. Now Benedict, I need to go prepare for tonight's ball and hopefully your sister's engagement."

"Marry me, Y/N." You stared at Benedict in shock and heard a gasp behind you. Both you and Benedict looked behind you and saw Nigel with a bouquet of lilies.

"Princess Y/N, please tell me you don't plan on being married to this baboon." You noticed that both the Bridgerton and Featherington were watching the scene. "Lord Berbrooke, this does not concern you."

"How could this not concern me, Princess Y/N? You are engaged to Duke Hastings unless you're committing adultery. In that case, Mr Bridgerton, please tell me now if she is unpure." Your mouth was left agape at the accusation.

End of Part 1

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madsmax13 · 6 months

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you wanna fuck me right now

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madsmax13 · 6 months

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ANOTHER UPDATE FOR THOSE OF YOU INTERESTED

I think we’re going on a date??? He asked if I wanted to hang out tonight and then said “I was gonna make it a study date” so does that mean it’s a date???

one of my coworkers looks like lewis pullman and I have the fattest crush on him tbh

#my coworker looks like lewis pullman i swear #lewis pullman #bob floyd rhett abbott and calvin evans wrapped into one man

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madsmax13 · 6 months

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Take On Me

Summary: What happens when the love of Bob’s life finally makes a move…the night before he deploys? Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd/F!Reader (No Y/N) Word Count: 4k ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED A/N: This is an entry for the 80’s Rocktober Challenge hosted by @roosterforme - I picked a-ha’s song “Take On Me.” I hope y’all enjoy! This is Bob’s side story from my Jake series, Invisible Smoke. But you don’t need to read that to read this. Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, unprotected sex, cockwarming (?)/unrealistic post-sex activities, angst (with a happy ending), being bad at feelings

Bob didn’t particularly like nights before deployment. There were the obvious reasons—being shipped out and stuck on a carrier for weeks on end wasn’t exactly the best part of his job—but the pageantry of the night before, the dress whites, the careful goodbyes, that was what he really hated.

Natasha had dragged him to the Hard Deck so he could at least say goodbye to a few friends in person since he had already video called his family. He watched Natasha pull Bradshaw out onto the deck for a quieter moment alone. It was about time they got together. Bob had been one of the few who knew about her feelings for their fellow aviator and he had accidentally discovered that they were reciprocated a few days after the Uranium Mission. It really had been kind of ridiculous watching them dance around each other for months.

He was happy they were finally together. Really. Who wouldn’t be happy to see two of his closest friends be happy? But it really just twisted the dull knife behind his ribs that always came when Bob realized how alone he was. He didn’t have someone to say goodbye to like that.

Penny gave him another ginger ale with her usual sweet smile before he started back toward the table in the corner where he’d left his hat. He pushed through the crowd, earning a few slaps to his back and claps to his shoulders by other patrons who knew what awaited him in the morning, and settled back into his seat with a sigh. He scanned the crowd, seeing Harvard and Yale chat up two women on what looked like a bachelorette trip and then Payback and Mickey dancing with their wives near the jukebox. Payback’s wife, a stunning woman named Sidney, pulled back just enough to wipe tears from her cheeks. Payback gently knocked her hand away and finished for her before kissing her forehead. Bob turned away, feeling like he was intruding with a persistent tightness in his chest.

And his traitorous mind conjured your smiling face, bright and happy.

What Bob had with you was…nice. It was quiet and gentle and strictly platonic, right now. Bob would never understand how Hangman was the one to introduce you to him.

“Trust me, Baby on Board, you’ll love her. She’s perfect for you.”

Bob had been fully prepared to grit his teeth and bear whomever Seresin had deemed ‘perfect,’ and expected to meet an Instagram model or a gym buddy of his—not that there was anything wrong with them, they were usually lovely but just a little intense. But then you walked in.

You with your thick-rimmed glasses and soft smile and softer laugh.

While Jake bragged on your behalf, stating that you were the best CPA in the city, the only person he’d trust with his taxes, andthat Penny trusted you with the Hard Deck’s books, you fiddled nervously with the bendy straw Penny had given you in your little cup of pop.

It was Jake’s fiancée—a good friend of Bob’s who deserved the world, if anyone asked him—who quieted the man’s well-meaning rant with a hand on his arm. “I think he gets it. She is amazing.” The other woman winked and earned a soft smile from you before turning back toward her fiancé. “But you still owe me a game of pool, yeah?”

As the couple walked away, leaving you and Bob alone, your (beautiful) eyes tracked up to meet his gaze. Your smile was small and soft and you drummed your manicured nails against the plastic cup in your grip. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And that was it, really. You had asked Bob if he knew how to play pool and then he offered to teach you. That led to soft giggles and missed trick shots and then quiet conversations about your lives and phone numbers exchanged before you parted ways for the night.

It was…good. Really. Even if it always teetered on the edge of becoming something more but never did.

Bob liked your good morning texts and the way you insisted on paying for brunch every time you invited him to try a new restaurant that just opened up. He liked that you didn’t mind helping him get the rest of the Daggers home from the Hard Deck if they had one drink too many. He liked that the people he trusted with his life liked you.

He…liked you. And he knew it was getting dangerously close to a different L word and that just had his mind circling back to how much he hated nights before deployments. You weren’t here. Bob didn’t blame you, of course. One of your more “difficult” clients had needed your attention immediately and had flown you out to Los Angeles about a week ago and Bob hadn’t wanted to disturb you with the news of the deployment. He’d asked Jake’s fiancée to tell you when you got back into town and he had an email queued up to be sent to you, too, crossing his fingers that he’d be able to still talk with you when you both had a moment to spare.

His gaze once again roamed around the bustling bar and unintentionally picked out all the couples. Dammit. Maybe, he just needed to get some sleep. He needed to be on the carrier early tomorrow morning anyway and wallowing in self pity wasn’t really a good waste of time. He finished his soda and waved to Penny and then placed a few bills on the bar to cover his tab before setting off toward the door.

This was good. He could get back to base and get some sleep before getting to the carrier just after dawn. But, as he moved around a rambunctious pair of lieutenants jockeying over their stances for darts, he nearly collided with a solid, soft body.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”

Familiar hands pressed at his chest in a bid to stay upright and the scent of rose and amber immediately flooded his senses. And Bob knew immediately it was you.

Bob set his hands on your hips with a growing smile and watched the realization dawn on your face. “Bob!” A smile he could see in his dreams broke across your lips before you wrapped your arms over his shoulders in a tight hug. “I’m so happy I caught you. I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.”

It took Bob a moment to shake himself free of the shock of your arrival and gave you a smile of his own. Some higher power was laughing at him right now (or maybe it was just Seresin) because Bob thought you’d never looked more beautiful in your short dress with buttons all the way down the front and strappy heels. “I didn’t know you were back.”

Your smile widened the slightest bit and you glanced at something over his shoulder, raising one hand to wave at someone. Bob turned in time to see Jake and his fiancée both raising their glasses in his direction. They knew. They had planned this.

But, when one of your hands swept over his shoulder to rest over his happily thrumming heart, all the embarrassment and gratitude he could have expressed at that moment crumbled away. He could deal with them later (and by ‘deal with them,’ Bob meant probably buy them a round and say thank you).

“Want to get out of here?” You asked, fingers brushing over the carefully arranged pins on his chest before thumbing at one of the ornate buttons of his jacket.

Bob knew you didn’t mean it like that, despite your wandering fingers, but he still had to suck in a quick breath to steady his thoughts before smiling. “Yeah, let’s go, sweetheart.”

You were quick to drop one of your hands to his, tugging him toward the door with a soft laugh he knew so well. The night air was tinged with salt water and the barest hint of spilled beer as soon as you stepped outside and down the handful of steps onto the parking lot. You gave him another smile over your shoulder as you started, “I hope you don’t mind-”

Bob fought the urge to say something that had been on the tip of his tongue for months and instead settled for, “you have to know that I never mind.”

You laughed again and shook your head but the noise quickly stalled when your foot connected when one of the concrete parking dividers and you nearly toppled for the second time that night. Bob tightened his grip on your hand and kept you upright with a quick tug that had you stumbling forward until you collided with his chest with a soft ‘oof’ and you laughed as you tucked your face into his jacket for a moment. You had a habit of doing that, hiding your smiles in the safety of Bob’s body. His neck, his chest, his shoulders, his arms. All of them had been places for you to squish your face. He never did mind, happily accepting any sort of physical affection you would bestow. Knowing you trusted him enough to keep you safe when you felt vulnerable.

Again, Bob knew he was dangerously close to that other word.

“I swear I haven’t had a drink at all. I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight.” Your voice shook and Bob tried not to read too much into that either as you looked down and groaned. “Oh, maybe that’s why. My shoe’s come undone.”

Bob didn’t even blink before kneeling on the pavement and grasping at the delicate straps. He could feel the heat of your skin as he carefully threaded the strap through the buckle again and as he tugged it closed again, the pads of his fingers brushed against your ankle and you were just as soft as he imagined.

What he had not imagined was the shiver his simple touch would elicit from you. You let out a strange, stuttering breath as Bob looked up at you. Oh.

Maybe it was the growing adrenaline from the impending deployment, or maybe the way the low lights were reflecting in your eyes, or maybe it was a dawning realization that you could maybe feel the same as he did. His fingers trailed up your leg as he took his time standing, almost smirking when he felt how goosebumps raced across your skin.

Your next breath stuttered and Bob felt it against his neck as he finally stood straight and once again settled his hands on your hips.

“I um…” Your throat bobbed. “Th-thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

His position and training as a WSO had Bob picking up on minute details, but he’d always been that way. He was the kid who was delighted with a ladybug landing on his jeans when the rest of his family watched booming fireworks on the Fourth of July. So, he noticed when your eyes flickered down to his lips. You moved closer and your lips puckered.

You were going to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him.

But Bob didn’t move forward to close the distance, no matter how much he wanted to and he watched your face crumple.

“Bob?” Your voice was weak as he took a small step back; Bob didn’t let you go far and kept his hands firmly planted on your hips. He wouldn’t let you go. Not yet. “Did I do something wrong? I…I’m sorry. I thought-”

But he just shook his head, ducking his chin the slightest bit toward his chest. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart. I just want to make sure this is what you actually want and not because I’m shipping out in a few hours. Deployments make people think-”

You moved to grasp his face, trying to tilt his chin just enough to make him look at you again. There was a desperation in your gaze that let him know that you needed him to hear you, make him understand. “Bob, I can’t lie and tell you that this deployment has nothing to do with it, all right? But this is the first time you’re being sent away from me. I know these things can be dangerous. I know that. I’ve heard horror stories about…” You couldn’t even finish the thought and shook it away. Your thumbs pressed gentle arcs into his cheeks before you dropped your hold. “Let’s just get out of here, okay? We can pretend none of this happened and just go get ice cream and sit and silence and watch the water until you’re sick of me.”

“I don’t think I could ever get sick of you,” Bob said, words tumbling out of his mouth before he could even think of how that would sound to you.

An unsteady smile pushed at your mouth as you took a step backward and then another and another until you were leading him toward your car—Bob quickly redirected you toward his trusty GMC and opened the door for you with a smile of his own. The air in the truck’s cab was tense for a slow song or two, just long enough for you to squirm in your seat until Bob reached over and grabbed your hand.

He didn’t want to upset you—it wasn’t an outright rejection, not at all—he just wanted to be sure that you wanted him like he wanted you.

Bob didn’t do this. He didn’t spend the entire night talking, laughing, pretending he didn’t have to disappear for a few weeks. But with you it felt right. It felt like he should have been doing this with you for months. Years.

Ice cream was purchased at a small roadside shop and Bob pulled onto an overlook and shut off the truck, letting the dim moonlight fill the cab as you both quietly ate your sweet treat—strawberry for Bob, pistachio for you. It was calm and peaceful, a far cry from the noise of the Hard Deck, but he could feel when you started to get nervous again, curling your hands into the skirt of your dress for a moment before starting to fiddle with the cloth-covered buttons on the front.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the deployment?” You asked, and Bob could hear the trepidation in your voice. You turned in your seat to face him and Bob was quick to do the same and you both scooted a little closer to each other on the bench seat, legs awkwardly skirting around the stick shift. “I would have come home sooner.”

But Bob just shook his head and felt his nose scrunch as he tried to pick his words carefully. He didn’t stop until he felt you trail your finger across his brow, wordlessly telling him to relax. Bob couldn’t even remember when you had started doing it, but he had savored it every time and felt his shoulders slump while he finally found the words. He carefully reached up and grasped your hand, linking your fingers together for a moment. “I don’t think I knew how to say goodbye to you.”

You searched Bob’s face and he tried not to hope too much with the look in your eyes. “Bob, I… you don’t have to have anything special to say to me. But please just say something.”

Bob didn’t even realize he was moving until his lips were firm against yours, almost unyielding. Your glasses clicked together as his hand anchored itself on the back of your neck and tilted your face just so but neither of you seemed to mind. He could feel your smile against his mouth.

Your fingers sunk into his hair as his tongue slid against the seam of your lips. He’d give you anything anything anything, and this was no different. All his thoughts about the deployment, about what waited for him in the morning, flew out the window as he hauled you closer, pulling you onto his lap. The warmth of you immediately sank through the heavy fabric of his trousers and he groaned. The noise earned him a breathy sigh against his mouth and your hips sinking and rocking against his again.

“I wanted to do this right. I wanted to do this right with you,” Bob murmured against your mouth as his fingers swiftly undid the buttons down the front of your dress.

“You are,” you said, tone breathy and bordering on needy. “I promise you are. This feels right. Everything feels right with you.”

Bob’s fingers stalled and his bright blue eyes moved up your face until they were boring into yours. “Sweetheart…”

“I mean it,” you said. “Everything feels right with you.”

It might have been less of a shock for Bob if someone had hit him in the chest with a baseball bat. Something whispered at the back of his mind to tell you, to tell you now and make sure you were saying what he thought and hoped you were saying. But he didn’t. Because wouldn’t that be cruel? To draw that out of you before leaving for weeks at a time with no firm promise to return to you? So, instead he kissed you again and tried to press into his mind the way you felt against his mouth as he pushed your dress from your shoulders. He moved to press you down across the bench seat and licked at the thrumming pulse in your neck as he peeled the little scrap of lace down your legs and then shoved them into his pocket.

He would keep those.

Bob moved, knee knocking into the steering wheel for a moment, shoving himself between your thighs after shrugging off his jacket. He pressed a kiss to your ankle, your knee, your thigh, before nosing at your perfect hip bones.

“Bob,” you whined. “Bob, please.”

The salty tang of you was immediately addicting and Bob wrapped his arms over your thighs and dragged you closer closer closer with each flick and twist of his tongue. He could do this forever. He shouldn’t have waited this long.

Your fingers curling through his hair knocked any other thought right out of his head and all that was left was you you you and how your thighs clamped over his ears as you came.

When your legs stopped shaking enough, you hooked your hands behind his head and hauled him up, pressing a rushed, sloppy, perfect kiss against his mouth. Bob’s hands skimmed over the soft skin of your thighs as he settled between them, feeling your wet heat soak his skin.

“Please,” you whispered against his mouth. “Please.”

Bob’s knee hit the horn when he went to shove his trousers and briefs down and he was embarrassed only for a moment but laughed along with you as you dragged him back into your hold, kissing him sweetly as you helped him move back into the cradle of your thighs. You felt divine. Warm, wet, and tight…and perfect. And every movement felt even better. You were clawing at his back as Bob mouthed at the swells of your breasts. You were everywhere, he was everywhere, and he couldn’t get enough.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you whimpered when he raised his head again to lick into your mouth.

Faster and faster, Bob drove into you until you were shaking in his grip, sighing against his spit-slick lips and Bob was quick to follow, collapsing over you and hips rutting into yours lazily in a mindless haze until you whined against his mouth. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured as he maneuvered just enough to press up onto his forearms on either side of your head. Bob didn’t move to pull out, not just yet, enjoying your warmth for a little longer. Just a little longer.

You were beautiful. Sweaty and makeup smudged, you were gorgeous. Bob trailed a finger across your cheek, catching a tear as it slid from your eye.

“Sweetheart?” Did he hurt you? Did something happen-

“Stay with me?” Your eyes were wide and pleading as your grip tightened on his shoulders just a fraction. “Just… Can we just stay like this a little longer?”

Something in Bob’s chest twisted, almost uncomfortable, almost too close to that other word. But still, he said, “of course, sweetheart. Of course.”

The conversation that followed was soft and quiet, filled with everything and nothing, and Bob’s eyes slowly closed with the sound of your heart and the waves outside lulling him to sleep.

A noise woke Bob up some time later. It could have been a passing car or the waves against the shore, it didn’t matter, really. It was still before dawn, the sky an inky shade of blue. He turned to the side, his back protesting the slightest bit, and saw you beside him. Your mouth was parted with sleep, soft breaths escaping in deep, even intervals.

You were beautiful.

And he had to let you go.

You hardly remembered waking up and getting dressed again. But you remembered leaning out of the truck to straighten Bob’s hat atop his head. Last night had been perfect and tinged with some sort of unspoken melancholy. Why had you waited so long? “Can I…can I come with you to the carrier? Wave you off?” It was a selfish ask, but you wanted more time, just a little more to cling to before your heart leapt out from between your ribs to try to follow him out to sea. For one of the few times in your life, you knew it wasn’t better to be safe than sorry. You had to take a chance.

Bob’s unfairly pretty blue eyes nearly sparkled in the low light of dawn as he smiled at you. “Of course, sweetheart.”

The ride out to the carrier was quiet aside from Bob asking if you could drop his truck off with Bradshaw. You readily agreed and hated how your stomach twisted when he parked. The imposing behemoth of a ship loomed on the horizon and you walked beside Bob, his duffel in hand, as you weaved through the early morning crowd. He slowed to a stop a few paces away from the carrier’s ramp and turned back to you.

You watched his jaw flex, tight and wanting, and you wanted to tell him how you felt, how you had felt for months, and you could taste the words on the tip of your tongue but they crumbled to nothing when the carrier blared its horn, calling everyone in and pulling Bob’s attention for a moment.

Tears started to build at the backs of your eyes as the carrier blared its horn for a second time. You had to let him go. You just learned what it was like to have him, and you had to let him go.

Bob turned back to you and you recognized the determined set of his jaw as he reached for you after dropping his bag at his feet. His hands smoothed up your arms and hooked at the back of your neck, thumb pressing an incessant pressure at the hinge of your jaw. You could have melted then, you were puddy in his hold and it almost made it worse. “I shouldn’t ask you this. It’s selfish and cruel-”

“Ask me anyway,” you said, the syllables cracking in your throat.

“Will you be here when I get back? Will you wait for me? I know it is a lot to ask, to take me on and-”

Those damn tears came back and you surged forward to press your lips to his again. The kiss was unhurried and uncoordinated but you couldn’t pull away. Not just yet. Not until your lungs burned and your cheeks felt cold. “I’ve been waiting for you for months. What’s a few weeks more?”

Bob’s smile was small but you knew you’d remember it for the rest of your life. He kissed you, soft and breathless, before scooping up his duffel again and walking backward toward the ramp. He was keeping his eyes on you. And you wouldn’t look away. Not now.

In eight weeks’ time, you’d be back here, ready and waiting. And you knew he’d come home. To you.

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

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madsmax13 · 6 months

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I Don’t Wanna Lose You

Spiderman!Ethan Landry x Reader

Warnings: Adult Language, Blood, Gun Shot Wound, Mention of Weapon, Needle Mentioned, Ethan getting stitched up, Angst, Fluff, Emotional Breakdown, Anxiety, Mention of Dying, and Maybe some Grammar Errors.

Description: Y/N is used to patching up her Superhero Boyfriend but she never knew that one night she would have to actually stitch up a wound that is pouring out blood.

Word Count: 1,249

Author’s Note: Sorry that this is so short! I knew I wanted to write something where Ethan is Spiderman and this is all I came up with! Also sorry if I forgot any warnings! Hope you all enjoy this short story!😊

Y/N was peacefully sleeping in her comfy bed till she heard a tapping noise on her window. She ignored it at first since she thought it was just the rain, but the tapping started to get louder. She sat up in bed and turned on her lamp that was on the table next to her bed side. When she looked over at the window, she saw her boyfriend wearing his superhero suit.

“Shit!” Y/N hissed throwing her blanket off her body. She quickly stood up and ran over to the window. Right when she opened the window her masked boyfriend fell inside and onto the hard wood floor. “Ouch!” Ethan hissed in pain. “Fuck! Ethan!” Y/N said in panic as she kneeled down next to him. She carefully took off his mask that was soaked from the rainstorm happening outside.

“What the fuck did you get yourself into this time?” Y/N asked him putting one of her hands onto his cheek. She saw the pain in his brown eyes, and it was making her heart ache. She hates seeing the boy she loves in so much pain. “You know that robber that has been stealing money from all of these small stores on the avenue?” Ethan asked her with pain in his voice. Y/N gave him a nod remembering him mentioning that his dad was the one that put him on the case. “Turns out he had a gun on him.” He told her taking his gloved hand off his arm that was oozing blood. “Oh fuck!” Y/N said still in complete panic looking at the bullet wound in the side of Ethan’s arm.

She knew she had to stitch up the wound quickly, so he doesn’t lose any more blood that he’s already lost. “You stay here! I’ll go get my first aid kit!” Y/N told him quickly standing up and ran out of her bedroom to the bathroom. This isn’t the first time she’s had to patch her superhero boyfriend up, but this one is different since this time he’s going to need stitches. She got the first aid kit out from under the sink and ran back to her bedroom as fast as she could.

It’s a good thing her roommate Mindy is staying at her girlfriend's apartment tonight. The only ones that know about Ethan being Spiderman is his dad who is a detective, his big sister Quinn, and of course Y/N, but Ethan’s dad doesn’t know that. Ever since they got together, his dad has lectured him about not telling her since it will keep her safe, but he had to tell the girl he loves that he’s the masked hero protecting the people of New York City.

When Y/N got back to her room with the first aid kit she saw Ethan trying to take off the top part of his suit, but he was having trouble because of the pain in his arm. He already took off his gloves. “Stop, let me help you.” Y/N told him sitting down next to him and setting the first aid kit next to her. She carefully lifted the shirt off his body. “Okay, let me see it.” Y/N said carefully holding his wounded arm and examining the wound. “How does it look?” Ethan asked her. “The bullet is still in your arm.” Y/N said opening up the first aid kit. “I’m going to use these tweezers to get the bullet out.” She said picked up the pair of tweezers. Ethan just gave her a nod letting her know to do whatever she has to do.

After she carefully got the bullet out of the wound with the tweezers, she cleaned the wound up and then started to stitch it up with a needle and some thread. Every painful groan Ethan let out she apologized. She was being as gentle as she could. It was making her heart ache since she hasn’t seen Ethan in this much pain before. After finishing up with the stitching she wrapped up his arm so the stitches won’t get messed up or infected. It’s a good thing her major is nursing.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Ethan said when she was completely done patching him up. “Yeah.” Y/N said in a soft voice as she started to pack everything back into the first aid kit. “What’s wrong?” Ethan asked her with concern in his tone. “I don’t want to lose you!” Y/N cried out finally letting her emotions pour out of her body. She didn’t realize she was holding it in till he asked her that question. “Y/N, you aren’t going to lose me.” Ethan reassured her taking one of her hands into his. “How do you know that?” Y/N asked as tears streamed down her face. “You got shot in the fucking arm! What if next time the bullet goes through your chest!” She cried as she started to have an emotional breakdown.

Since the day she met him, she couldn’t see herself anywhere without him. She knows that they are both just nineteen, but she knows that Ethan is the one. He’s the definition of her dream guy. When he told her he is Spiderman she knows every time he puts on that suit, he is putting his life at risk,but seeing him hurt this bad just brought that thought of losing him in her brain.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Ethan said in a soft tone. “Come here.” He said pulling her towards his body. He used his good arm to hold her. She had her head resting on his chest as her tears started to stain her cheeks. “Listen, I know the job I do is ruff, but I do it to keep people safe.” Ethan told her as he gently rubbed her back in comfort. “I know it’s just that I’m scared that when you get hurt, you won’t come back to me.” Y/N said avoiding his piercing brown eyes. He carefully used his patched-up arm and lifted her chin up, so that she was looking at him in the eyes. “I can’t promise you that I won’t get hurt, but what I can promise you is that I will always come back to you.” Ethan told her cupping her cheek and wiping away her tear-stained face. “I love you.” He told her resting his forehead against hers. “I love you, too.” Y/N said back in a soft voice. They shared a kiss on the lips that was filled with all the love they have for one another.

“C’mon, let’s get some rest.” Ethan said to her. She saw it in his eyes that he was exhausted. Y/N didn’t even realize how late it was till she looked at her clock. Both have classes tomorrow morning, so Y/N agreed. She helped him stand up and have him sit on her bed. She got out a pair of clothes he always leaves in her drawer for nights like this. After Y/N got Ethan out of his wet pants she helped him change into a pair of nice and warm pajamas. After she turned off her lamp, they laid down next to each other under her warm and comfy blanket.

“Goodnight beautiful.” Ethan said in a sleepy voice as he wrapped his good arm around her body and gave her a soft kiss on top of her head. “Good night handsome.” Y/N said with a giggle wrapping both of her arms around his torso and rest her head onto his chest.

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madsmax13 · 6 months

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me scrolling through my timeline while trying to avoid spoilers for Lessons in Chemistry because I want to finish the book first 😭

#lewis pullman #leasons in chemistry #calvin evans #elizabeth zott

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madsmax13 · 6 months

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YALL I HAVE AN UPDATE ON THIS MAN

he talks to me everyday now and we’re both so shy and awkward and I love it so much 😭

now I just need him to like me as more than a friend

one of my coworkers looks like lewis pullman and I have the fattest crush on him tbh

#lewis pullman #my coworker looks like lewis pullman I swear

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madsmax13 · 8 months

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Etched in Stone

Relationship: Benedict Bridgerton x afab!reader

Warnings: 18+ spicy times (MINORS DNI), flirting, fingering, mutual pining, childhood friends to best friends to lovers, exposed ankles, fluff, softness, gentle/possessive Benedict, brief mention of alcohol and slightly tipsy momma Violet Bridgerton makes an appearance

Summary: Bored at yet another party hosted at Bridgerton House, Benedict seeks solace (and a strong drink) in the quiet of Anthony's office only to find you there, one of his oldest friends and buried feeling resurface.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT copy, repost, claim, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 4.1k+

A/N: I wrote this fic for my lovely friend @frostandflamesfanfic a while back but wanted to take my time posting it because this was such a joy to work on and wanted to savor every moment. El was there for the beginning of this story so it's only fair I dedicate it to them as well. Thank you for trusting me to write one of your beloved fictionals. I drew a lot of inspiration from both book and show Benedict. Any era inaccuracies are fault of my own as well as where Benedict's room is located in the house. Graphic by @firefly-graphics

His piercing gaze hadn’t left you all evening, making your shoulders rise on the verge of danger, but the way his gaze bore into yours, and you couldn’t deny the shallow thrill or the pulsing in your heart.

You hadn't wanted to come to the ball and despite your family’s protests and prodding you found yourself at the Bridgetron ball, dressed in the prior season’s attire, not caring about the gossip. It wasn’t like you had anything to prove to the ton or Lady Whistledown. A soft smile graced your lips at the thought and you round a corner, sipping on your lemonade, weary and the night was still young. You longed to be reading one of the adventures in your novels, whisking you away to another place and time, holding hands with your beloved.

******

Benedict sighed for the third consecutive time in a row, making Eloise roll her eyes. “Brother, surely you can find some enjoyment from this party.”

“When I tell you, I’ll let you know,” he grumbled, watching the couples swirl along the dance floor, his eldest brother Anthony pulling Kate close in his arms, a bright smile lighting her face. Benedict tried to hide the disdain, the ache resounding in his chest. He’d rather be locked away in his room, working on his art, perfecting the curve of a hand, the slope of a shoulder, silk between thighs. He shook his head, groaning before tossing back a glass of lemonade he’d picked up during yet another turn around the room.

It did little to cool his blood.

When he made his way to the study, he half expected to see Colin there sneaking a glass of Anthony’s secret stash, however, he didn’t expect you draped across a chair, nose buried in a book, legs curled over the arms of the chair, exposing your ankles. The smirk crawled along his lips for a fraction, enraptured by your stone-cold expression and you flipped another page, not uttering a sound. He poured himself a drink, trying not to chuckle, and watched you intently.

“Do you intend to stare at me all evening, Mister Bridgerton? Or are you going to ask me to pull myself together to dance in front of the entirety of the ton?”

The drink almost lodges itself in his throat as he choked it down, the bewildered expression on his face the cause of your pursed lips. For the love, you were laughing at him!

“Cat got your tongue, Benedict?”

Oh, it was more than the cat that got his tongue, he wanted to swallow yours, combat your wit, fill himself with your words and beauty tenfold.

Good gracious, what had become him?

Here you were and he’d been watching you like a hawk all evening barely making a move and your ankles were there, tempting him, tricking him, enticing him. How ready he was to fall, the hold you had on him was indescribable. He’d been this way since he first laid eyes on you all those months ago. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on you. But how he wanted to fall with you, drag you along the dance floor show you off for the world to see. No, he would do no such thing.

He would enshrine you in a painting, etch you into stone, a carving upon his heart.

Warmth flooded your body as you continued watching Benedict pace around the room and you doubted he realized he had done so. A bedraggled state was becoming of him, accentuated by his ruffled hair as he muttered under his breath, stopping to refill his glass with something stronger than lemonade.

You smirk, perusing the pages of your novel, which sparked an idea.

“Benedict?”

Your voice, oh your voice was a guiding light, his anchor, steadying him through the whirlwind of a storm conjuring in his head.

“Yes?” His gaze met yours, and he stopped pacing standing before you and giving you a good look at his chest, the rise and fall of his breaths, reminding you to steady yours.

You crane your neck up, looking him in the eye. “Read to me.” It’s a simple request, but you hide the quivering of your lip. He leaned in closer, engulfing you in his scent, causing you to bite your cheek to keep from groaning. It was heady and intoxicating and it was all him.

“What?”

Focus, you ninny! You cursed softly to yourself gathering your thoughts as you clung to your novel.

“I asked if you would read to me. Literature is the art of words is it not?” You shifted in your seat, your feet now resting flat on the floor as any respectable proper person would have done from the start. You let out a soft groan when the balls of your feet touch the floor, and he leaned down further, his index finger barely stroking along your jawline. Your ankles were definitely covered now, but you suspected his reaction didn’t stem from that.

He cocked his head. “You would prefer me to read romance to you rather than show you firsthand?”

“Why ever would I need to experience such things firsthand? I have everything I need here.” Your stomach fluttered, almost dropping when he kneeled before you, his fingers brushing along your sides before grasping your thighs and squeezing gently.

“You do have one thing right for this evening. We have everything we need right here.” Another squeeze of your thigh sent your mind reeling.

“Does one intend to enact upon such desires, Mister Bridgerton? Or does one who reads such novels suppress them?”

His hands traveled further up your thighs a silent challenge, one you were not backing down from despite the pounding of your heart. You were here with Benedict Bridgerton alone in Anthony’s study, someone you had known for years, a constant fixture throughout your youth, the source of countless daydreams and now, rather passion-induced dreams.

“Do you know how long I’ve imagined this?” He growled low in his chest and you forget to breathe. None of the books you read prepared you for reality, not that you would confess. Benedict didn’t need his ego poked any longer, the more he knew he could unravel you slowly.

You squirmed against him, tugging his vest. “I’ve wanted you for years but denied myself. I didn’t - couldn’t- imagine you felt the same,” your voice came out as a whisper, a plea for him to see you and he did. Benedict saw you and gazed at you with hope and adoration.

He growled low in your ear, sliding his hands around your waist, rising to his feet pulling you against him, the racing of his beating heart restarting yours. He was your desire, your soul ached for him, knowing he was the only one you could ever hope to give yourself to.

No one else in the world was meant for you or could compare to him.

His heart beating in tandem with yours, clinging to each other, a lifeline. It felt like a lifetime before clarity finally made its way into the world, making its intentions known between you. It was more than the slow-burning passion and affection blossoming between each other.

His lips brushing along yours sent your heart soaring, connecting your souls and you welcomed him, and you were home, he pulled you flush up against him, groaning softly, digging his hands into your waist. He couldn’t breathe, utterly weightless, intoxicated by your scent, everything. He was high on you, your touch, oh how lovely it felt your fingers digging into his back, melting against him, needing him as much as he did you.

This was love. It was Benedict in a new form, one you awoke, taking him back home, a home he’d always known for you were there through it all. He wanted to give you everything you desired, everything you deserved. And you would receive the best in return. But not in his brother’s study on his favorite reading chair.

“Anthony will kill us if we do anything here,” He pulled away in a moment of clarity, holding you close, your legs trembled, overcome with your passions. You ached for him dearly, more than you knew possible.

“I’ve done worse, I assure you,” you snicked, gathering your bearings, brushing off your outfit, ruffling out the wrinkles as if that cleared off any evidence of Benedict having his hands over you wasn’t obvious. “I’ve defiled my mind with notions of unrealistic nonsense.”

He raised a brow, looking unamused, a flicker of amusement flashing before boisterous laughter, likely caused by Lady Featherington passing by the door and you inhaled sharply, the anticipation ticking by each moment. As soon as it came it went, hopefully, spurred on in good spirits. Lady Featherington surely didn’t have half the mind to break into Anthony’s study.

Benedict cracked open the door beckoning you over, taking your arm by the elbow, “Up the stairs, second door on the left. I’ll knock three times so you know it’s me.”

You nodded, taking in his appearance, his disheveled hair, mused vest, and undershirt beneath. You would be lying to yourself if you denied the excitement of what lies beneath but the other side of you was equally terrified.

******

Dashing up the stairs was easier said than done, the events of the evening causing your head to spin in a mixture of wonder, anxiety, and borderline delirium. You were sure you were dreaming but the stairs beneath your feet are solid, beckoning you up to the elegant quarters where the Bridgertons slept. You glided your hand along the banister admiring the railing, willing yourself not to fall, raucous laughter closing in, dangerously close by from the sound fluttering through the halls.

Perhaps Lady Featherington sought to uncover your dalliance after all. That would be the talk of the ton, however, you knew the Bridgertons could afford some slander from Lady Whistledown, but fortunately, all she commented on was the growing size of the family, the lovely grandchildren Vicountess Bridgerton had the pleasure of seeing when Daphne and Simon returned to town.

You silently cursed your attire and its restricted movement when you made it to the landing, stopping for the briefest moment to catch your breath. You didn't bother asking if his younger siblings were asleep, but he didn’t seem to care at that moment, the way his eyes glanced along your body, and the smile along his lips was far too distracting anyway.

Your minds were busy with other thoughts, the taste of his lips still freshly imprinted into your memory. You did everything as he instructed, the door to his room groaning on its hinges making your heart race, but you peeked out the door to be certain.

No maids padded down the corridor, the only sign of life was the music and laughter intermingling for what you could imagine would be all hours of the night. The Bridgertons could throw a grand party, no doubt about it.

Benedict's quarters greeted you with the scent of him, masculine and comforting. It felt like home, the furniture dark and handsome, the shelves lined with countless books, figurines along his desk not to mention his infamous sketchbook lying on his desk in the corner by the fireplace. Charred pieces of crumbled paper jutted out from the embers.

Curiously, you reached out for it turning to a page. It didn't take you long to figure out the odd figures as you pieced each frame together, a culmination of finished pieces, sketches, and half-started attempts, frustrated pen strokes deft in their quest to uncover the beauty ready to bloom.

Hands. Intertwined, graceful elegant, smooth lines, hardened ridges, callouses palms, delicately resting ones. Upon further inspection, you noticed the tried and failed attempts at an all too familiar pair of hands. It was odd to look at how he depicted yours, strong, yet graceful, adept at anything you put your mind to between needlework, horseback riding, the leather a fine feel in your hands.

You had to admit some were quite good while some lacked depth and luster. Practice made it worth it in the end, some of the figures he drew resembled a striking resemblance to his family, almost as if he were imitating the artist of the figurines, which when you looked longer were small likenesses of his mother, father, and siblings. The sight warmed your heart.

"Benedict! You're missing the partyyy!" A shrill giggle outside the hall pulled you from your exploration, your heart racing in tandem. You hoped and prayed it wasn’t Gregory and Hyacinth. From your previous encounters, you knew they were sharp, keen-eyed, and inquisitive about a multitude of subjects on top of their general mischievousness. Plus, you weren’t in the mood to ask any questions, but where the hell was Benedict?

Despite yourself you began pacing, desperately trying to avoid glancing at the bed draped in fine sheets, a fine rich deep velvety blue coverlet gracing it giving the piece a regal appearance. You wanted nothing more than to lose yourself between the downy softness of it all and fall into blissful dreams, and yet, there are other pressing matters to attend to.

The giggling resumed and you sighed, thinking better of yourself, not wanting this to be a joke.

You found yourself opening the door, greeted with the voice of none other than Violet Bridgerton whispering, on the verge of a quiet yell to her second song, grasping onto his elbow at the lower landing of the stairs. “Benedict! Good heavens, you’re to retire so earlyyyy???”

He rolled his eyes half in amusement and exasperation. “Mother, I have matters to attend to, plus the other mothers merely want to hunt me for sport and pair them with their retched daughters.”

His eyes flashed, glancing up, his gaze boring into yours, flooding your body with warmth. He quirked a brow, challenging you while his mother rambled drunkenly along, still grasping his elbow while he shifted his weight on his feet.

Shut the door, he mouthed to you, causing your lips to quirk in the barest hint of a smile.

“Quite right, you have a fair point. But there was that one lovely person you danced with twice back in the orangery perhaps…”

At that exact moment, you opened the door further to grant yourself a better view of Benedict’s struggle and also partly in retaliation to his protests, only for the grand door to let out a massive agonizing wail. The giggle left you of your own volition at Benedict’s bewildered expression rendering you completely helpless as Violet looked up at you, the same Bridgerton eyes, older, wiser and so kind smiled at you, albeit borderline tipsy.

“I see now I see. That’s the pressing matter you have to attend to. Don’t mess it up dear boy,” she slewed, chuckling to herself, before whispering in his ear, his face flushing in response. Violet released his arm, winking up at you before traipsing down the stairs, leaving a flustered Benedict behind to collect his thoughts before he came back to his senses, scurrying up the stairs while you slipped back into his room, posting yourself right in front of the door, keeping it cracked just so. When he arrived you only catch a glimpse of his eyes flashing before the door sealed you completely from his sight.

Silence greeted you and you feared you might have ignited his wrath, alas you merely wanted to tease him.

The seconds tick by then three knocks follow.

Were you going to answer him? Oh, he was going to make you pay for this with many kisses. He huffed before composing himself.

You still didn’t answer.

“Don’t play with me, dear unless you wish for them all to hear us when we should be dancing.” When he knocked for the second time, you decided to open the door, the scowl imprinted on his face illuminating a side of him you desperately wanted to see. You did this to him. Without hesitation, he locked the door behind him and immediately pressed you against the wall, a scowl forming along his lips.

“You wouldn’t dare flash me before the eligible men of the ton tonight if you had to.” You whispered, brushing a stray hair off his forehead. “I belong to you, Benedict. Even if I am an old maid.” Your heart thundered in your chest. You were home, you belonged to no one else, nowhere else but here in Benedict's loving arms.

“I am yours, oh love I’m yours.” His voice cracked, overcome with realization and the emotion of it all, his scowl replaced by pursed lips, wandering hands, lavishing your body in the simplest yet heat-induced touches and you wanted - craved - more. More of him. Benedict. Your Benedict.

“Benedict, Benedict…Benedict,” Your was all you can muster with the meeting of his lips upon yours, feeling the depths of him, pulling to you crashing over you like a tidal wave. You were a sailor lost at sea who made it to the safety of the harbor and oh, it was blissful beyond anything beyond your wildest dreams.

“Say it again,” he pleaded, each kiss awakening desires long suppressed, ones you hadn't acknowledged since they only came about throughout the course of your friendship with Benedict. Only he could put you under his unique spell, craving his lips, the brush of his hand against yours and here you are getting more than you dreamed.

“Benedict,” You sighed blissfully as he kissed you once more, kisses languidly savoring the feel of you as he guided you up onto the bed, the coverlet as luxurious as you surmised. You’ve not come close to feeling something so heavenly as this and Benedict, oh, he was more than you ever dreamed. The novels you’d read didn’t hold a flame to each sensation buzzing through your body, the magnetizing gaze of his upon yours, already undressing you with his eyes. You wanted to take your time, alas it was getting harder to resist. Benedict was one thing if not impossible, but he was yours, irrevocably so.

A fire in the fireplace crackled to life, startling you for a moment, while Benedict caressed your jaw, memorizing every inch, and you selfishly wonder if he'll draw your portrait one day, trying to capture the first moment he had you to himself in his chambers. He moves his exploration from your jaw to your shoulder, then your hands, leaving kisses where he can, murmuring sweet nothings, soft praises that have your knees weak and you wanting him all the more.

“Your hands are lovely, nothing can compare to me holding them,” he whispered, caressing them softly, continuing to place kisses of adoration along them while you gazed at his soft loving eyes. “I cannot capture their beauty, their essence onto the page. I’ve tried and failed for months.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’ve done a fine job, Benedict. Your art is beautiful, never lose that passion inside you, it’s ethereal strong, spellbinding, and magnetic.”

“As are you. You’re everywhere in my waking hour, in my dreams and sleepless nights. You’re my muse. You inspire me.” His voice wavered, a tear sliding down his cheek. Every bit of him belonged to you, there was no question, no doubt about it.

Without another word, you tug on his vest, a beautiful shade of the signature Bridgerton blue, his shirt embellished with small bees. Everything looked wonderful when it was on him, but you wanted more, to lose yourself to him countless times throughout the night.

“You’re pretty much the only reason I get out of bed most mornings,” You swallowed as he turned to face you, his hands cupping your face.

“My love, oh my love,” he kisses you softly, in equal parts awe and reverence intertwined, making you forget where you are, the time and place. It’s you and him safe in each other’s embrace. His kisses trailed from your hands up to your neck, nipping softly, eliciting soft groans from you and you returned them in kind, his fingers stroking along your back, pulling you closer in his embrace.

You brushed away another tear from his cheek, one falling from your eye as well and he wiped it away, kissing you gently before wrapping around behind you, desperation, adoration, awe, and passion guiding him. His lips connected with your neck, and you sighed in satisfaction, his hands wandering down your torso, lighting you up on the inside and you groan leaning back into him, leaving your mind to wander while you savored his touches.

“Good, you’re not thinking, that’s right. Much better see?” His hand wandered lower, down stroking you just so, warmth blooming through your body. He relished your moans, biting into your neck as he watched the effect he has on you, wishing he could have done this to you earlier all the wasted time you have to make up for now.

You urged him on through desperate kisses as you pull clothes from your bodies, every inch of him visible to you, eagerness and passion alike driving you both.

“Keep going, please.” The last of your clothing fell to the floor and he pulled you back onto the bed while assuring him you have all the time in the world. “I want you, Benedict, always have, always will.”

He needed nothing more but your constant assurance, his fingers dipping into you, gliding along your body making you fall into his ministrations, your breathing ragged as you fell into bliss, his fingers replaced with his tongue sending you soaring into another place another time and it felt so irrevocably right, your fingers digging into his mass of curls encouraging him along, more than eager to assist your release. And when you were spent, his lips met yours hunger and desire battling, intertwined as you tasted yourself on his lips. You wanted more, you wanted all of him, however, in the midst of it all you found yourself asking a question as you kissed him once more, this time slower, unrushed.

"What did your mother say to have you flustered as you are?" You batted your eyes, casting an impish smile, a look you know he couldn't resist. He hummed, his free hand stroking your side, his voice low in your ear. "My dearest mother told me to treat you well and that we best enjoy ourselves a little bit before our union. Told us to enjoy ourselves."

“Her intuition is uncanny, I never want to be on her bad side.” You huffed as Benedict groaned, pulling you in for yet another kiss, trailing down your body, making you squirm, not listening in the slightest, for he was far too distracted, focused on you before him. He would never tire of the sight, thanking his lucky stars.

Finally, after years of yearning and pining when you’re joined, it’s a bliss, unlike anything you’ve known. You stifled a moan at the feeling, Benedict brushing a stray hair from your eyes, trapping you against him. “Love, I want to hear you, alright? Can you do that for me?” Your eyes widened at the request but when he moves against you, pleasure filling every fiber of your body you cry his name to the heavens.

Oh, how he loved it the soft whimpers, you begging for more and your name sounding just as sweet and sinful falling from his parted lips, swollen from your nipping and kissing. You want the moment to last for oblivion yet when you both lose yourself to your bliss, delirium hits and you pulled him closer in your arms, his face resting in the crook of your neck, the bed and sheets in disarray. You smirked to yourself more than pleased with the outcome.

He continued to kiss your neck, nuzzling more, your hands stroking his curls. “I love you, Benedict.”

“I love you more, my love.”

“I’ll love you forever.”

“How about eternity?” He intertwines your hand with his own, kissing your ring finger. “Will you marry me?”

Your heart thrummed erratically but warmed at his loving gaze full of joy, hope, and wonder. It was a face you wanted to wake up with a kiss and love for all your days.

“Yes, Benedict, a thousand times yes.”

The smile that shot across his face kickstarted your heart and he kissed you for the thousandth time of the evening, not that you were complaining. For you have an eternity to kiss, love, and be loved by him. You settled against his chest, his embrace warm and reassuring, his hands settling on your belly soft and warm, while you drift off to sleep of bliss thinking only of Benedict and what the future holds.

******

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madsmax13 · 8 months

Text

Fireside Embers & Forbidden Desires

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester Word Count: 6.9k Warnings: Fluff, Winchester sarcasm, smut (dirty talk, slight rough sex, oral (ftm, mtf), threesome), I feel like Whimper!Dean and Snarl!Sam are warnings ;) A/N: This was a fun write! This came from a mutual idea between @alexsoenomel and myself. Summary: After a decade, it’s time to reconnect with your childhood friends and crushes, the Winchesters, camping over the summer. What ensues is a fun night full of forbidden desires. THIS IS THE SHY!READER VERSION - If you wish to read the same idea executed with a CONFIDENT reader, >>> I will tag @alexoenomel’s fic when she’s written/uploaded it :)

Also thank you to @pink-sparkly-witch for the extra beta assistance, hope you enjoy the rest of it :D

“Son of a bitch!”

As soon as you heard Dean’s classic cursing, you ran over, still wringing out your hair. Sam wasn’t far behind you.

“Woah.”

Dean was grabbing things from inside their tent and tossing it aside onto the grass, and you watched as it squelched when it landed in shallow puddles. “Everything in here is soaked through,” he grumbled. “Even the damn food! Seriously?!” “How did it flood?” Dean turned a glare on you. “Oh, I don’t know, Y/N, maybe the rain that just belted down not 5 minutes ago?”

“No need to be rude,” Sam retorted. “Let’s go check your tent.”

We walked over to your tent which, unlike theirs, had an extra waterproof cover over the top and was curved over, pinned into the soil. Sam walked around and checked the pins by tapping it with his foot, then peeked a head inside. When he popped back out, he shrugged. “I think yours is dry?”

You quickly took off your shoes and walked inside, feeling around the ground, your belongings, and the walls of the tent just to be sure. Sam was right.

You greeted both brothers standing shoulder-to-shoulder outside your tent. “I guess you guys can bunk with me?” You shrugged. Dean shot you an indignant look. “We won’t fit.” “You got a better idea?”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, before Sam eventually shrugged and excused himself to attempt to salvage anything from their tent.

An hour later, Sam was back, holding a large box. “Well, the box is wet but the mattress is fine. It’s a king… will it fit in your tent?” “Well, what will we do with mine?” “Beats me,” Dean said, grabbing the box from his brother and immediately pulling it out, reaching for your electric pump. “But there’s no way the three of us are sharing a single.”

“Fine, just… you two figure it out. I’m gonna sit here and read my book.” Sam saluted you with a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

You had known the brothers since you were 9. Each summer, you would spend two weeks camping in a forest with your parents, who taught you all how to survive on your own with no power and no packaged food. It had been at least a decade since any of you had camped, now with your corporate jobs and all your parents had since passed on.

Both brothers were unmarried without children, finding themselves thrown too much in their work to find time for a family. You, although you wanted a family, loosely, you also didn’t have any desperate need. You preferred your solitude, and building genuine friendships, and travelling too much to want to settle down. You also had very little to no good experience with partners, so you had sort of given up, and resided yourself that you’d spend life alone.

A good friend had told you once, that it was best to love yourself, for you’d be with yourself til death, and that always stuck with you.

Dean was the oldest at 44, Sam four years younger, and you were exactly ten years and four days younger than Dean, meaning that when you had met them, they were already teenagers, ready to take on the world. Occasionally one or even both of the brothers would bring a girl along, but they seemingly never lasted the whole trip. You would taunt them, kind of like a little sister, but you found yourself growing jealous of their girlfriends around the time you hit puberty. You knew it was wrong. You were going on 13, Sam was 19 and Dean was 23. Not only was it ridiculous but it was gross, even to you. You figured it was just the result of hormones and growing up. It didn’t stop you staring at them and blushing profusely at their terrible jokes.

Your families had continued the tradition of camping each year until you were 15. Sam was off in college and Dean had started his own mechanic business which, to your knowledge, had been very successful given the small town he lived in. This trip was the first time you’d seen each other since your respective parents’ funerals… well, unless you include all the skype and zoom calls over the years, but this was the first in-person meeting in 10 years.

To say that was ridiculous was an understatement.

You had fallen into the same banter with the brothers as you had ten years ago and every year before that, but this time, life had hardened yourself and Dean, and worn down Sam. None of you were as cheery as before, so Sam, being the least depressed of the three, constantly tried to cheer everybody up. He still found the positives in life despite the darkness.

You were sure spending a few days in the forest would do you some good though, despite Dean’s hesitation. It was coming up to the 19 year anniversary since your last camping trip and you didn’t want to wait another day, so you called them up and convinced them to spend a weekend away from all your troubles. Sam quickly agreed, but Dean had taken some convincing. Said convincing involved vintage porn magazines and your homemade apple pie.

This led to now. Only a few hours ago, it had rained so hard upon your search for firewood and flooded the brothers’ big tent. Sam had discovered there were a few rat-eaten holes in it, given it was stored for years in Dean’s garage, it was no surprise. Now, you were chuckling as Sam used his knees to shove the large king blow-up mattress inside your small tent before falling on top of it.

Sam groaned as he stood, wiping his hands against one another. “Well… it leaves a few inches of room at the foot of the bed for us to step inside, but it’s filled the entire tent.”

Your eyes bulged. “You’re joking.”

“Guess we now have to share the king.” Dean clicked his tongue. “Was hoping there’d be room for the single as well.”

You rolled your eyes and went back to your book, running your fingers along the edges before turning a page. A few minutes later, you felt a tiny pebble hit you in the chest. “What do you want, Dean?” You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. “I’m bored.” Sam chuckled. “If you’re so bored, go skip rocks.” “What he said.” Dean huffed. “You’re both boring. I’m gonna go back out and get some alcohol. Be back in an hour.”

The three of you spent the early night roasting marshmallows by the fire after eating ramen for dinner, followed by a few shots of whiskey courtesy of Dean proclaiming he needed this night to be more fun.

You had argued that alcohol wasn’t needed to have a good time, but there seemed to be this ‘elephant in the room’ between the three of you. The tension was almost visible like a thick smog floating between you.

“You might as well say what’s on your mind, Dean,” you said, sighing. Dean groaned. “Why did you ask us on this trip?” You laughed dryly. “It’s been nineteen years…” “Yeah you could’ve waited another year to at least make it an even twenty.” “It’s been ten since we all lost our parents,” you said, voice softer this time. “I.. was clearing out my attic and found some pictures. Sue me for feeling nostalgic.”

Sam offered a hand on your shoulder, rubbing a little before pulling away. “Hey… it’s okay.”

“I know it is.” Dean let out a puffed exhale. “Look. I… didn’t really…” Sam leaned forward. “I think that’s Dean’s way of saying he’s grateful and he missed you,” he smiled, only the corners of his lips lifting - it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know I did.”

“That’s the point. We don’t hang out anymore. Lord knows we probably all needed it. I know Dean, you never take a damn day off, and Sam, it’s been months since you’ve even gone fishing, and me? Well… I need to be around men for a damn change.”

Dean chuckled at this one. Finally. “Oh is that right?” “I love my girl friends, I do, but I swear one more mention of their drama and I might just jump into the quarry.”

Dean’s voice dipped an octave lower when he said, “Are we men enough for you?” “You’ll do.”

You felt a little familiar sensation in your belly when his voice deepened, and you realised, you had spent way too long alone and maybe being in close proximity to two Alpha males was going to send you into a horny spiral. You hoped you had excellent self control. However, you were sure the Winchesters only thought of you like a kid sister… Dean had often donned you “Kid” ever since he was a teenager, and Sam only ever hugged you sideways with his hand placed gently over your shoulder.

Clearly there was nothing to worry about.

After a few more drinks, you bid the brothers goodnight and left them to chat by the fire. Climbing into your sleeping bag in the centre of the giant king bed, you curled into a ball and quickly fell asleep.

Sam’s kiss was rough, his stubble grazing against your neck and making you moan. Dean’s body slamming into yours over and over had you keening over the edge. “Dean. Sam. Fuck.”

Dean leaned over to kiss you while Sam stroked his cock above you, twisting your nipple hard with his free hand. “So good.”

Sam was already lying on his back reading a book when Dean crawled in beside you. He had busied himself with cleaning up the campsite and ensuring the fire was dying out and wasn’t at risk of burning the place down. Dean groaned, his arms flailing to get comfortable, repeatedly hitting the side of the tent. “Will you quit it?” Sam quipped. “I’m too fuckin’ big for this small ass tent!” Sam scoffed. “Dean, my feet are dangling outside. You don’t hear me complaining.” Dean pulled a face. “Actually, you did. I was smoking out the fire and heard you whine about it.” “Oh shut up.”

As Dean finally got comfortable and laid beside you, he noted you shivering in your sleep. He reached over to feel your arm, then your forehead. “Jesus, kid, you’re freezing,” he mumbled to himself. Sam hummed in question. “She’s cold.” “Dean.”

“Yeah princess?” “Sam. Fuck.” Sam closed his book and turned toward you, looking up at his brother with a frown on his face. “Is she…” “So good.”

“She is,” Sam confirmed, blushing.

Dean chuckled and grabbed your shoulder to shake you a little. “Hey, kid, wake up.” “Hmm?” You groaned, stretching your arms above your head. “I was comfy.” “You’re cold.” You rolled your eyes. “Then get another blanket, fuck, why did you have to wake me?” “You’re too cold to warm up with just a blanket, sweetheart. Here, curl into me.” Dean. Always the protector.

Sam coughed which caused both you and Dean to look at him. “Her body will warm quicker from skin to skin contact.” Dean frowned so hard at Sam you wondered if the frown lines would be permanently etched into his skin. “Like babies?” Sam grinned. “Yeah Dean, like babies.”

Dean shrugged, and instantly lifted his henley over his head and settled back into the covers. “You don’t have to, but it’s nothin’ I haven’t seen before, princess.”

You bit your lip, contemplating your options. You had goosebumps all over your skin, and you were starting to shiver from the inside out. You knew that technically you would be fine if you didn’t take the boys up on their offer, but also didn’t want to spend the entire night shivering.

Sam put his book away and stood, quickly removing his own shirt before shuffling himself closer to you. “If you want to stay dressed, it’s fine. I’m sure we’ll be able to warm you enough.” “But… you said it’ll be quicker with skin to skin contact.” Sam nodded, but didn’t say anything.

You swallowed hard, looking at both brothers.

They had aged like fine wine.

Dean’s chest was decorated in freckles like a spray paint can had exploded, and his green eyes sparkled beneath the dim yellow lamp in the corner of the tent. He had muscles, they weren’t blatantly obvious, but you could tell he was strong by the way his pecs and biceps flexed with every movement.

When you looked at Sam, you almost drooled. He was visibly leaner but had defined muscles and abs, with chest hair a little lighter than on his head. His strong jawline almost clashed with the adorable dimple that popped when he smirked. His forearms were littered with veins, and you secretly wondered how it would feel to have his hand around your throat.

You could feel your cheeks heating up at the thought.

“Okay,” was all you said. “Okay?” Dean repeated. You nodded, giving him the go ahead to help you with your shirt. You weren’t wearing a bra underneath, which you had stripped upon coming to bed. Sleeping with bras were too uncomfortable, and in your mid 30s you had discarded the idea that two men you were comfortable with in their 40’s would care about you wearing a bra. You were shy, but not embarrassed that you were a woman.

Dean slowly lifted the shirt over your head, tossed it aside, and patted down your hair to tame the frizz, before tucking it behind your ears and smiling at you. He cupped your face in his hands, and you watched as his eyes roamed your face, licking his plump lips. When he locked eyes with you again, he paused for a moment, unmoving, and it felt sort of like time had slowed down.

You could vaguely hear Sam ruffling the blankets behind you, grumbling while he tried to get comfortable waiting for you two to lay down.

“Okay?” Dean checked again, eyes flitting between yours, hands still on your cheeks. “It’s fine, Dean,” you said, finding it in yourself to chuckle at him. It was kind of sweet, you thought, that he was so worried about crossing a boundary that he ought to check in with you multiple times. “Nothing you haven’t seen before, right?” You huffed, using this opportunity to lay down. You decided to lay on your back initially, but your nipples stiffened as the cold washed over you, so you turned around to face Sam.

Dean moved behind you and you grunted softly when he, quite roughly, forced his pelvis behind your ass and curled around you, wrapping his arm around your midsection. You could feel his hot breath on top of your hair.

“Hi Sam,” you said softly, biting your lip. You were hoping he wouldn’t look below your face, but part of you also hoped he did.

Sam’s jaw clenched, and he gave you a quick once-over, his eyes moving so quickly you weren’t sure if he even saw anything. His mouth formed a thin line, then said, “Hi darlin’.”

You let out a soft exhale as you felt butterflies fill your tummy. Nobody had ever called you that before. Sure, Dean’s terms of endearment you were used to - kid, sweetheart, princess - he’d been saying those since you were a teenager, but Sam had never called you anything more than your name before, so it hit a new nerve. In a good way.

You knew if you told your friend that you were in this predicament, she’d tell you to suck it up and put on a brave face, make a move… any move… but you didn’t know how. You were worried they wouldn’t want to. You weren’t comfortable yet. But something from deep within told you to boldly ask, “Why are you so far away?”

Sam chuckled. “I’m sorry.” He moved toward you, his feet entangling themselves with yours, the warmth of his track pants causing goosebumps to rise over your legs. I only just shaved and now they’ll be prickly - ugh.

Sam rubbed his hand up and down your arm a few times, he had hoped it would entice enough friction to warm you up a little. He noted Dean’s arm around you, so he wasn’t quite sure where to put his hands. He watched as you stared at him, eyes hooded, clearly enjoying the view of his torso. Deciding to play it safe, he grabbed your hands in his, shivering a little at how cold your hands were, and held them close to his chest. You could feel the heat emanating from his chest, now, and sighed in content.

A few minutes of quiet, and you were sure Dean was asleep. His breathing was even above you, his chest rising and falling at a steady pace against your back. Your eyes remained open, staring at how Sam rubbed your hands with his thumbs every few seconds. You glanced up at him, and he was staring at you. You instantly felt your cheeks heat up under his intense gaze. “Thank you for inviting me on this trip.” “You’re welcome.” “Are you feeling warm now?” “Yeah, I’m getting there. I um…” Sam’s brow rose. “You what?” “My uh.. My chest is still a little cold.” “Oh,” he sighed.

“I’m surprised you couldn’t tell,” you said, so softly you were almost sure he couldn’t hear. But the night outside was so chill, and inside the tent was so eerily quiet that he heard it… loud and clear. “If you haven’t noticed,” he started, squeezing your hands to get you to look at his face. “I don’t make it a habit of staring at your breasts.”

Ever the gentleman.

You remained silent, gnawing at your bottom lip. Sam continued. “I’m not quite as openly vulgar as my brother”

“Excuse you,” Dean grumbled from behind you. You giggled. “It’s ok. I respect the respect either way.”

Sam clenched his jaw again, pausing as if contemplating his words. “But if you need me to come closer… just say the word.” “What word,” you teased, winking at him. “Word. Word, Sam. Word. I’m cold.”

This made both brothers laugh. Sam shook his head, then shuffled closer… so close that his chest was now flush against yours, causing you to sharply inhale at how fucking warm he was against your pebbled nipples. You let out a sigh, and with it came a very, very soft moan, but you couldn’t help it… this felt amazing.

“Better?” He quipped, curling his arm beneath his head, while he used his other to gently run over your shoulder, down your arm and back up again. “Mhmm.”

Your body was curled slightly, with Dean firmly fitted against your behind, his pelvis pressing against your ass and knees behind yours. Sam’s legs entwined with yours in the front, his chest flush with yours, and given the height difference between you, his jaw was a little above yours, so you uncomfortably tilted your head up so you could smile at him. Now that your hands were free, you tucked one between your legs and used the other to gently touch his chest, feeling the soft hairs tickle your skin. He hummed.

You felt internal shivers wrack your body, which only ever happened at extreme nervousness, even though you were no longer cold. Sam didn’t know this though, so he moved even closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You still cold, darlin?” “No. Just… nervous.” “What’re you nervous about?” “I dunno.” Truthfully, you weren’t sure.

Maybe it was being so close to Sam and Dean.

Maybe it was because they were men.

Maybe it’s just ‘cause you hadn’t seen them in so long.

Or it was a combination of all of the above. “You can tell me.” His voice was a little deeper, and you felt yourself shiver again. You had this feeling that you were going to cross uncharted territory tonight, if not with both then with Sam.

“You,” you said, your heartbeat quickening. “You make me nervous.” “Oh I do?” Sam’s voice was now hoarse. Fuck that’s sexy. “What am I doing that’s making you nervous?”

Sam moved his hand from your arm to your chest, just lightly grazing your skin over your collarbone. He dipped one finger between the curves of your breasts, then back up and over to the other side, all the while staring directly into your eyes. “Is it my hands on you?” You nodded. “Want me to stop?” You shook your head. Sam clenched his jaw again. “Use your words, amor.” “No, I don’t want you to stop.”

Sam continued to drag his hand, so lightly across your skin, and as he did so, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your nose. Tilting your head up and parting your lips, you waited. His beautiful hazel eyes sparkled with mischief. You moaned softly when his large hand finally came into contact with your breast, and you arched into him as he flicked your nipple with his finger.

Sam’s upper lip curled into a snarl. You wondered what he was holding back, feeling hot all of a sudden. You exhaled harshly, wriggling out of Dean’s grasp and sitting upright. You pushed your hair back and sighed. “Fuck, it’s hot!”

Dean grunted. “What is it, princess?” His voice was slightly muffled by his face being shoved into the pillow.

Sam sat up, too, and grabbed your face with his thumb on your chin and pointer against your jawline.

Dean slowly rose to a sitting position and stared at the two of you with groggy eyes. He hoped it wasn’t just Sam who affected you, as he felt a pang of jealousy in his chest. He reached out and grabbed one of your hands, squeezing it. You responded with a squeeze of your own, still staring into Sam’s eyes.

It was fascinating… watching Sam’s resolve diminish second by torturous second. His irises somehow darkened, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, jaw ticking. He shut his eyes, breathing hard. “Sam?” His eyes snapped open. You brought his hand back up to your breast, curving it around the swell of flesh and then let go.

In a split second, Sam’s mouth was on yours. His kiss was rough, and passionate, like he wanted to breathe your air. His lips were soft, and he tasted like mint and musk. You moaned into his kiss, eagerly moving your mouth with his. The two of you only pulled away when you were desperate for air.

Turning to look at Dean, you could see his eyes were a little watery, but his face remained stone still. “Do you want me to leave?” He asked, brows knitted together. He thinks you don’t want him, too.

You couldn’t blame him. The second he’d taken your shirt off, you turned away to face Sam.

You’d spent your teen years crushing on both brothers, but it always felt the most wrong when thinking of Dean given your ten year age gap. Now you were old enough, and your age didn’t matter, but it still felt strange. Did he really think of you like that? Like somebody he wanted?

“No, I don’t, Dean.” Dean smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Stay?” You said, willing to beg him if he fought it. “Please.”

You placed a hand on his jaw, making him look at you. Feeling bold, you sat on your knees and crawled closer to him. You were eye to eye, and for a moment, you felt your shyness creep back in, and you looked at the floor. Dean used this moment to put his thick hand around your throat ever so gently to make you look at him. “Kiss me.” “W-what?” “You heard me, sweetheart. Kiss me.”

You pressed your lips against his, and already his kiss was so different to Sam’s. His lips were pillow-soft, but his kiss was gentle. He didn’t force your mouth open with his tongue like Sam had, instead kept it chaste, but the kiss felt so full of love you couldn’t pull away. Dean was the first to part his lips from yours, only to start peppering kisses along your cheek and jaw, then down your neck, where he started to suck lightly on your pulse point.

Given you were on your knees, Sam crawled up behind you, sweeping your hair slightly to the side and scrunching his hand at the base of your skull, effectively pulling your hair into a ponytail and holding it there. This allowed Dean access to one side of your neck, and Sam, the other.

Sam licked, kissed and nipped along your shoulder and neck before making his way up to your ear and nibbling on your earlobe.

You felt useless with your hands dangling free in front of you and desperately felt around you to touch one of them. One hand first came in contact with Sam behind you, your elbow bent awkwardly so you could run your hand along his upper thigh and hip bone. You weren’t quite brave enough to go there yet. Your other hand held lightly onto Dean’s waist as he ravished your neck.

Your chest rapidly rose and fell, finding it suddenly so consuming.

Just as Sam dragged your earlobe gently between his teeth, you whimpered. “If you’re going to touch me,” he ground out, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “Then do it -” he grabbed your hand and planted it on his crotch - “here. Ugh,” he moaned, using your hand to rub himself through his sweats. “Right there baby.”

“Are you sure?” you whispered. “Never been more sure in my life.” Sam used his hand in your hair to his advantage and tilted your head enough so he could kiss you again.

Dean used this time free from you to move to a sitting position in front of you, and began running his hands slowly down your torso, lightly grazing your breasts, causing your belly to twitch with every touch. “Turn around, princess. On all fours.” “W-what? Why?” You pulled away from Sam’s kiss and turned to Dean, brows knitted together.

This was happening. This was really happening.

“Do you trust me?” The way Dean’s lips formed a pout made your chest hurt, but not in a bad way. It hurt in a way that made you realise you did trust him… you trusted both of them… with your life. If this was how the night was going to go down, you were glad it was with them and nobody else.

But you felt nervous, still. And you were sure this was written all over your face, for Dean sat up and kissed your temple and whispered, “I got you, baby.” You nodded and followed his instructions, turning towards Sam on your hands and knees, and you felt, rather than saw Dean wriggle his way beneath you. He brought his hands up to your hips and gripped the edge of your sleep shorts, slowly pulling them down your legs, kissing your thigh a few times to ease your worries.

You balanced on your hands while Dean pulled them off your legs one by one, then looked up at Sam, who was palming himself through his pants.

“Y/N,” Dean said. “Do you want this?” “I-I think so.” “Nuh-uh,” Sam chuckled darkly. “That was a yes or no question. Do you want this? If not, say the word and we’ll all get dressed and go to sleep. But we want you to use your words, d’ya think you can do that, hm?” Sam thumbed your bottom lip, watching it bounce back into place.

Sam wondered for a split second what it would look like with your mouth full, but quickly gathered himself for your response. There was no way he was crossing this invisible line without your say so. Neither would his brother.

“Both of you want me?” “If it isn’t obvious, my cock is hard as a rock. Dean is beneath you waiting to eat you out. Of course we want you.” You laughed nervously. “Never knew you had such a dirty mouth, Sam.” Sam growled. “You have no idea.”

You took a pause to think. The Winchester brothers waited patiently, watching you with curiosity as seemingly every emotion crossed your face while you thought about this.

You wanted them. You’ve always wanted them. You were sure you were leaking through your shorts with how much. You trusted them. You loved them.

“Nothing will change?” Dean squeezed your thighs. “Not if you don’t want it to. We’re all consenting adults, Y/N. We can do as we please as long as we talk about it.” “Okay,” you said quickly. “Okay. I want this. Just… make it good, please.” Both brothers responded with a deep laugh, their chests reverberating and it almost sounded like they were purring. “I feel for you. You must’ve had some bad sex. But don’t worry, princess,” Dean said, sucking on your leg. “We’ll make it good.”

You looked up at Sam for confirmation and then nodded. Sam put his pointer finger at your mouth, teasing your lips. “D’ya want Dean to eat you out, honey? Suck on that pretty little clit and make you cum?”

You whimpered. Sam stuck his finger in your open mouth as soon as you did so. “I thought so,” he said, leaning over you. “Show me how you suck and I’ll think about rewarding you while my brother busies himself with your pussy.”

Jesus lord, Sam was filthy.

Dean wrapped his large arms around the join of your legs to your hips and urged you downwards until you were spread wide over his face. “You smell so sweet,” he murmured. “Sit.” You did as he said and spread wider until you came into contact with his face. You felt his nose dig into your folds and he began licking and sucking at your labia like a fucking starved man in the sahara desert.

You stuck your tongue out and began licking Sam’s finger, sucking it in slowly and wrapping your lips around it. He pulled his finger out, then pushed it back in… he continued to repeat this over and over, ‘til he decided to push it further and tickle your gag reflex at the back of your throat.

You didn’t even react.

Sam’s eyes widened in desire, his upper lip curling into a snarl. “Oh, precious girl. What am I gonna do with you?”

You jolted with surprise as you felt Dean wrap his lips around your clit and began sucking. “Woah,” you said, rolling your hips a little. “That’s… so good.” “Yeah?” Sam said, eyes twinkling. “Better than your dream?” “My… dream?” Oh god, they heard you. Sam hummed, and you watched as he started to push his pants down, just enough to free his cock. He was huge. Bigger than you’d ever had… ever seen.

“How…” “Oh it’ll fit,” he said, gripping the base of his cock roughly.

Dean’s tongue began flicking back and forth over your swollen clit, and you jerked upright. Sam used this momentum to grab your hair and scrunch, so your hands went straight to his thighs. Your hips were rolling, and you could feel yourself dripping as you clenched down on nothing. Dean’s mouth was ravishing you and you were struggling to ground yourself.

“Open.”

You did as you were told and opened, eyes closing on instinct as Sam pushed the head of his cock into your awaiting mouth. He was a little salty, but delicious nonetheless, and you began sucking him in earnest, hollowing out your cheeks with each pull of him. Sam pulled harder on your hair and started thrusting in and out of your mouth, causing you to curl your fingers into his thighs. You were sure you were decorating him with crescent shapes of your nails, even through his pants.

The only sounds that filled the room were your whimpers and the squelching sound as Sam pounded ruthlessly into your throat. Spit pooled out the sides of your mouth, dripping down your chin. Your pussy began convulsing as Dean sucked on your clit for a second time, the vibrations from his lustful moans sending you over the edge.

You moaned around Sam’s cock, moving your hands to his ass as you held onto him for dear life while your pussy dripped juices all over Dean’s face. He greedily drank it up.

Sam paused mid-thrust, and you could feel the throb of his cock down your throat.

Sam growled loudly and pulled out. “Fuck! Almost came down your throat.” “Why didn’t you?” Your voice was hoarse and barely recognisable. “I refuse to do it until I've felt your pussy.”

Dean surfaced for air, wiping his face and grinning like a mad man.

Dean then surprised you by gripping your hips and smoothly flipping you til you were on your back. You squealed out as your back landed on the pillows and blankets with a soft thud. “Dean!” Dean was giggling, licking his lips. The way he stared down at you with an equal measure of lust and love was enough to ease your nerves about how this was going to continue. “God, you’re incredible,” he whispered, crawling up your body to plant a chaste kiss on your lips. You could taste yourself on his lips. It wasn’t bad, although not your favourite, but you knew it would turn him on, so you grabbed his face between both hands and kissed him deeper, eliciting a moan from deep within his chest.

When you both pulled away, Sam whined. “If you two are done mackin’ on each other, I’d like to get on with it.” “Aw, is Sammy tired?” Dean teased. Sam scowled. “I think Sam gets a little grumpy when he’s denied what he wants.” “That’s an understatement, baby girl,” Sam said, quickly maneuvering himself to sit between your legs.

Sam had lost his pants somewhere between Dean flipping you and then you kissing him, so he was more than ready to have his way with you.

This time, Dean was at your head and Sam at your lap. Sam lifted one of your legs and hooked it over his shoulder, practically bending you in half and exposing your pussy to him. He rubbed small circles over your hipbone and turned his voice to a whisper and asked, “Are you sure?” “Yes, Sam.” “Words, baby.” “Fuck me,” you said, feeling yourself throb at the anticipation. You were getting impatient. “Please.”

Sam began rubbing his cock head through your folds, pressing harder each time into your over-sensitive clit and watching you writhe beneath him.

Dean was lying on an angle, allowing you to rest your head on one of his muscular thighs, and at the right angle, you could still suck or play with his cock. It wasn’t the easiest, but it was still possible. You turned your head and kissed the tip of his cock that was already leaking with precum, then licked your lips. He was sweeter than Sam, and almost had a candy-like taste. Must be all the apple pies he consumed. “Oh,” he said, so softly you almost didn’t hear it.

Sam used this moment of your distraction to push the head of his cock inside you, and you let out a long, drawn out moan as he stretched you. You had never felt this stretch before. Although you were sure Dean would stretch you more, given how thick he was compared to his brother. Both men were well-endowed and blissfully blessed.

Sam’s mouth opened and he purred as his hips moved forward slowly. You could feel every single ridge of his dick inside you, and you were sure he felt the same. He took his time pulling his cock out, then back in, just like he did with your mouth earlier. You were almost positive your pussy was in for some onslaught soon.

Now that you were well adjusted, you turned your attention back to Dean. Wrapping one hand around the base of his cock, you marvelled at the veins all around him, how warm he felt and how amazing it was to feel him in your hand. You brought your mouth closer and kissed the tip again, letting out a soft moan.

“Oh, Y/N,” Dean said. “More.”

You opened your mouth and took him in a little further, swirling your tongue around and tasting every inch. You took your time, making sure every single inch of his cock was covered in your spit before you took him to the back of your throat.

Dean began to whimper.

“Fuck, oh, baby. Yeah, that’s it. Right there, right there, mmm,” he growled a little, and you watched his hands clench and unclench by his sides. He wasn’t rough like Sam, but Sam was enjoying how much Dean’s vocality was making your pussy wet.

“You like hearing him, huh? Your pussy is fucking soaking, darlin’, just taking me so well,” Sam said, but truthfully his words went a little over your head. You moaned with every thrust inside you, but your stomach fluttered every time Dean made noise.

Both men were vocal in totally different ways and you were fucking living for it.

You paired your mouth with your hand and twisted up and down in a rotating motion. “Baby, baby, fuck, fuck, I’m… yeah, that’s it, that’s so good baby, so good. I love your mouth, such a pretty mouth, hmmmm, baby, fuck. I’m not gonna finish yet… I can’t finish yet… uh…. Fuck… fuck…..”

You pulled off him with a hard pop and began jerking him off quickly. Dean’s head fell back and whimpered. Sam began thrusting harder into you, your hips smacking together loudly. “Make him cum, Y/N, I wanna watch how clever you are with just your hand,” Sam said, finding your clit with his hand and flicking it softly at just the right spot.

“I know that feels good, Dean,” you said, nervously trying your hand at dirty talk. You weren’t sure if it would help, but you were trying not to cum yourself and needed that short distraction to stop yourself from going over the edge just yet. “Show me how good it feels and cum on my tits.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice a mess. “Yeah.”

Your hand was starting to cramp up, but Dean quickly hunched over a little and began choking back a sob, and you felt the base of his cock start to throb in your hand. You twisted your hand quicker, rougher around the head and watched him fall apart in your hand.

Dean let out a drawn out moan as he painted your tits with rope after rope of pearly white cum, the spurts coming out so quick you couldn’t predict where they went. By the sixth one, your entire chest was covered, with it also dripping down your hand. You greedily licked it off your wrist and hand and smiled at him.

“Such a good girl,” Sam said, chuckling as his brother collapsed on the tent floor, exhausted and spent. “Now it’s my turn. Think you can help me?” “I dunno,” you said, feeling a little exhausted yourself. “I just need you to do one little thing for me,” he said, and his voice was taunting and laced with lust. He continued rubbing your clit slowly, softly, the little spot right above it so it wasn’t too sensitive. “Cum all over my dick, pretty.”

Sam moved your leg down and spread you wide, angling your hips at a different angle and rocking his hips back and forth, so damn deep he hit a new spot, and you saw stars. Your eyes slammed shut and you immediately began to cum. Shivers exploded down your spine and you screamed. You were so out of it that you didn’t notice Sam pulled out and painted your stomach with his cum until you came to thirty seconds later.

***

The three of you had managed to not get anything soiled in the tent, but quickly left the campsite, buck naked, to find the little shower around the corner, and quickly got yourselves clean.

When you woke up the following morning, Dean and Sam were already drinking coffee and listening to the radio. You wandered out, squinting at the morning light. “Morning, sleepy head. It’s 8.” You groaned. “Why so early.” They both chuckled. “It’s not early, you’re just a damn night owl.” “Yeah yeah.”

That morning, you had all decided to treat this as a fleeting moment of fun, and not dwell on what it could mean for the sake of your long friendship. Dean kissed your cheek and said, “Sure we’re ok?” “I’m sure, don’t worry about me.” “I’ll always worry about you,” he said sincerely, looking deep into your eyes. “You’re my princess.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Sam then picked you up and swung you around in a bear hug, saying he could never think of you as anything but one of his best friends.

Though both brothers agreed if anything were to happen between any of you, the other would simply respect it. But for now, it was a mutual agreement that this was just a fun night between long time friends and some alcohol.

Tags: @nancymcl

845 notes · View notes

madsmax13 · 8 months

Text

Part Five

You guys, thank you so much for all the love on this series! I see your comments and tags, and I just want you to know that I do! Thank you for interacting. I want to reply but I don't know how to do so without using my personal blog. Anyway, just know that I see you and I appreciate you! Happy Reading!

Title: Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3100+

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Pining Hangman, Crying, Nat throwing herself from a moving vehicle, Sunny finding out about The Bet.

Second Chance Romance!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bob Floyd, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

---

Hangman watches Sunny for a few moments, taking in the soft features of her face as she watches the point where the sunset meets the waves. He notices the numerous earrings that decorate the expanse of her ear, the jewelry glittering in the sunset. He traces the jewels with his eyes, fighting the urge to move the piece of hair that has fallen in front of her ear.

Hangman sighs, running a hand down his face, attempting to regain some composure. He continues to remind himself that this is not a date, Sunny is not here for him. Jake wonders if Phoenix would ever forgive him for making a move- the thought of thinking before acting on impulse almost new to Jake.

He gives her another moment to sit before breaking the silence- he tells himself it's for her, but really, he wants to sit there and look at her for just a moment longer. Jake doesn't know what it is, but he can't seem to take his eyes off of her, something resonating from her aura that just draws him in without her even trying.

He almost reaches over the bench seat to take her hand in his, just to feel the heat of her soft palm in his again, but he shoves the desire down, letting it sit deep in his stomach almost aching. So, he speaks, to keep himself from doing something stupid- something he can't take back.

"You ready to get the party started?" He smirks, fingers unbuckling his seatbelt. She follows suit, the seatbelt unclicking before retracting behind her right shoulder. Hangman slides out of his side of the truck before winding around the front and over to her door. He pulls it open and offers a hand to Sunny. She rolls her eyes, sliding out, then hitting his out turned hand on the back with her own, smacking it away.

"I was trying to be polite," Jake rolls his eyes, nothing but playful jest behind them, though he aches to feel her skin against his again, "My Mama would smack me if I was anything but polite to a lady while she gets out of a vehicle,"

"Looks like she raised you right," Sunny moves around him and down the bed of the truck. She grabs the side of the bed before planting one foot on the tire, pulling herself up into the bed with one swift motion. Hangman watches her with delight, taking note of the mismatched piercings that cover her other ear. "Too bad I was raised by my Uncle Remy, who taught me to never trust a man, "'cuz he's never met a man who wasn't playin' games","

"I never said that I wasn't playin'," Hangman watches as she roots around in her duffel. He takes in the way the tip of her tongue juts out from between her teeth, her eyes drifting to the side in concentration while she searches through the bag by touch alone. When she pulls her hand out, she grasps a magic marker and a handful of red "Hello My Name Is" stickers.

Jake quirks a brow, watching as she balances a nametag on her knee, marker cap held between her front teeth as she scribbles something across the tag. She quickly peels the tag from its backing before slapping it to her chest, smack on her left breast, her name and a small doodle of the sun adorn it. She moves to the next tag, the beginning of an 'H' being written before Jake speaks again.

"You do realize we wear our names on our uniforms, right?" Sunny's eyes drop Jake's chest, his last name printed in crisp white letters on the black plastic tag.

"Seresin, huh?" Her words are muffled a bit by the marker cap that's still placed between her teeth. Her hands move, eyes still locked on him. He beams with pride, smirk a little larger than before.

"Yes, Ma'am, that's me," Sunny caps the marker as she pushes herself to stand again, "That's why it's on my chest," He lets his finger trace the underside of the perfectly placed nameplate.

Sunny takes the chance to throw herself over the side of the pickup, landing loudly next to Hangman. He jumps back a bit at the suddenness of her movement and how she moved with such ease, eyes darting around her form, checking for any sign of distress. As quick as his eyes snap to her, a sticky nametag is pressed crookedly over the already pristine one on his chest. It reads "Hanged Man" in sloppy letters, a little doodle of a stick figure in the space next to it, the same kind of stick figure children use for the game Hangman. It's clever, really, but he glares down at it anyway.

"That's more correct, I think," She pats him again on the chest, right in the middle of his sturdy frame, a proud look on her face. There is a playfulness behind her eyes and it drives Hangman a bit more crazy. He hopes that she didn't feel the quickening of his heart under her palm.

She pulls her hand back as quickly as it was pressed against his chest. He almost reached out to grasp her wrist, to bring her hand back up to rest over his heart. Thankfully, he catches himself mid movement, instead, bringing his hand up to run through his hair.

Jake knows this woman will be the death of him, from the way she throws smirks around, to the red of her dress and down to the worn in cowboy boots. He's smitten, more than enough to put his best game forward for a chance at taking her home. He almost forgot she was there for Phoenix, almost, until a loud shriek pulls him out of his Sunny induced daydream.

He turns to see Phoenix practically throwing herself out of Rooster's Bronco, the vehicle still in the process of slowing down as she throws herself out of it. The nametags and marker are thrust into his hands as Sunny moves to round the bed of the truck.

The women move quickly, embracing each other with too much force. They would've ended up on the ground if Sunny hadn't braced herself for the impact of Natasha's body against her own. There is a mess of laughter and tears, the women pulling back to look each other in the face before pulling each other close again.

Hangman watches as tears spill down Natasha's face, her eyes scrunched together. This is the first time he has seen Natasha cry. It humanizes her. Her hard exterior breaking apart, glimpses of her true self now visible through the cracks.

The women rock back and fourth, spinning themselves around in a circle. Natasha is whispering to Sunny- Jake is too far away to make out the words. Then, his eyes catch Sunny's face, slick with tears but the look on her face is nothing but pure contentment. This is the first time Jake has ever seen a woman cry without pain marking the face. This repeats for a couple minutes, Hangman standing there next to the truck, watching women he barely knows, cling to each other like they might float away if they let go. Rooster's clapping Hangman on the back to signal his presence, pulling the Aviator from his thoughts.

"Let's go get some beers, give them a minute," Rooster speaks, motioning towards the door. Hangman nods an agreement and they move towards the front door, leaving the women to embrace in the parking lot.

"Oh my God, let me look at you," Phoenix cries, pushing Sunny back to peer into her eyes. They are full of tears, threatening to overflow as Phoenix's own dart around her face with her watery gaze before she is quickly pulling Sunny right back into her chest whispering 'oh, come here'.

"Nash, you are gonna kill me if you squeeze me any tighter!" Sunny almost has to claw Natasha further away from her body, but when they finally separate, Sunny brings her hands up to wipe tears from her best friend's cheeks.

Sunny lets her eyes dart around her friend's features, taking in the darkness of her eyes first. They are richer than the soil, with so much life within them, glittering gold in the sun. She brings a hand up to run her fingers over the slicked back hair on the side of Nat's head, right over her ear. Sunny traces the hair a few times, taking in the sharp corners of her brows, letting her eyes travel down to the sharpness of her jaw.

"You're beautiful, Nash, you know that, right?" Sunny compliments, giving her friend's shoulders a squeeze.

"Oh shut it," Nat laughs a bit, her cheeks tinted with a slight blush, "You are too,"

"Of course I am, what do you expect?" The women both stifle laughs, the joy continuing to bubble out of the pair.

"Come on, lets get some drinks and I'll introduce you to Rooster," Natasha grabs Sunny's hand firmly, lacing their fingers together and pulling her towards the door, "How was the ride down with Hangman? Did he behave himself?"

The women push into the bar and Sunny barely gets a chance to glace around before she is being pulled to the back of the large room, near an expansive set of windows with a perfect view of the sunset. Sunny lets her eyes catch the sunset for a brief second before turning back to Natasha.

"He was fine, kept his hands to himself. I can't say the same thing about his eyes, but a fine man like him can look at me anytime," Sunny laughs as Natasha's face crinkles up in disgust.

There is no awkwardness between the women. They behave like they have known each other for a lifetime, and in a way, they have known each other for some of the most important years of their lives. Sunny was there for every deployment and rank change and every course Natasha passed. Nat was there for Sunny when her first book got published, and then again for the next two. She has them on her book shelf, displayed proudly.

"Hangman, seriously?" She fake gags, grimacing.

"What? I said look, not touch," She nudges her friend's shoulder with her own, earning a half laugh from the other. "He's not my type, but it's nice to be noticed by a conventionally attractive man, okay! Even if he does look like some Mattel reject for the Ken Doll,"

"Who looks like a rejected Ken doll?" A voice breaks through the laughter. Sunny looks away from Natasha to see a sandy haired man, clad with a porn 'stache, looking too hot for his own good. He is looking up from the tabletop, magic marker in hand.

Sunny leans over to whisper in Natasha's ear, "Oh, my God, what is with all the hotties?" The comment makes Natasha turn a light shade of pink as she stifles a laugh behind her hand.

"Hanged Man does," Sunny replies simply, turning her attention back to the new man, earning a hearty snort from him in return.

"Oh, Darlin', you wound me," Hangman places a hand over his heart, feigning pain with a hearty grimace. All he earns is three distinct eye rolls from the group as he turns to walk towards the bar.

"I'm Bradley," The new man interrupts, holding a hand out towards Sunny, a wide smile on his face.

"Sunny," She shakes his hand, making sure to squeeze it tight. 'Folks remember good handshakes', the words play in her head.

"I gathered as much," Bradley sends a look to Nat, a small smirk on his lips, "This one hasn't stopped talking about you since she found out you were making your way to Fighter Town,"

"That's okay," Sunny smiles brightly, "I talk about her all the time too, I'm sure the guys at work are tired of hearing about her."

Natasha chuckles a bit, pulling Sunny in for another hug. Bradley puts his attention back to the tabletop where he is making his own nametag. The sight makes Sunny's smile a thousand watts brighter.

"I can't decide if I should draw a mustache or a dick on this," He speaks, gesturing down to the nametag, his cheeks sucked in in concentration. Sunny peeks over his shoulder, the nametag already reading "Rooster" in bold strokes. Nat looks too.

"Dick, definitely," The ladies respond at the same time.

"Oh my God, you better not do that all night," Hangman speaks, stealing the attention away from Rooster's new artistic endeavor. He holds four beers, two in glasses and two in cans, as well as a glass with dark liquid fizzing away inside.

"I can't make any promises," Natasha informs, taking the glass and a beer from Hangman. She hands Sunny the glass, her hands working before her brain, almost like they have done this exact thing a thousand times before. Probably because she is used to handing the glass to Bob.

"I didn't know if you drank, so I got you a beer, and a Coke," Hangman gestures to the glass, "It's a Pepsi, sorry, its San Diego, y'know?"

"Didn't you just say it was a Coke?" Sunny quirks an eyebrow, bringing the beverage up to her nose to give it a sniff. Definitely not a coke.

"Ignore, him," Bradley interjects, "He's from Texas so all Soda is a Coke to him, then they specify. It's stupid,"

"Well, I don't drink, so the thought was very sweet, thank you Jake," Sunny nods, raising the glass to him, "However, the 'Coke' first thing is dumb," and then she turns to Bradley, "And counterpoint, so is 'soda', where I'm from, we call it a 'pop'!"

"A pop?" The three Aviators speak in unison, sharing slightly bewildered looks with one another.

"The only other lunatic that calls a soda a 'pop' is Bob," Rooster reminds the group, his explanation complete with air quotes.

"Yeah!" Sunny is equally as bewildered at the thought, "Because the can makes a pop sound when you open it?" She explains it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. The Aviators "ahh" in unison, but at very different pitches, Sunny isn't sure anyone believes her explanation. "I'm just glad it's a Pepsi, honestly,"

Hangman looks offended, his mouth slack, eyebrows down.

"Texas," Rooster and Phoenix chime, each shaking their head side to side, much like one would while disciplining a child.

"So, Nash," Sunny slings her arm over her best friends shoulders, bringing the cup to her own lips with the other hand, "Where is this famous Bob I am supposed to meet?"

"Oh! He offered to stay back and finish the maintenance on the jet so I could get out here and meet you! He should be here in an hour or so,"

"He better be, he's usually the D.D.," Rooster sends a wink Hangman's way before he is reprimanded by Natasha.

"Nope, don't even think about it, boys! He is our ride, remember? That was the deal, breakfast burritos in exchange for getting him off of D.D. duty this week,"

The boys whine about it, mentioning that the burritos better be worth it, and that's when Nat leans into Sunny's side, whispering that they just might have to make the boys breakfast burritos now. Sunny agrees with a roll of her eyes, pleased to be getting roped into the shenanigans right off the bat.

"Or maybe, you guys can use your portion of the bet winnings to buy some burritos for yourselves," Nat speaks, the idea popping into her mind. "I really don't want to cook for your asses more than I already do,"

"Bet?" Sunny inquires.

"Oh right, the bet, I almost forgot," Bradley speaks, a wide grin falling over his lips.

"I hadn't forgotten," Jake interjects, "I knew from the moment I saw her that we'd won,"

Sunny is even more confused now, looking at Natasha for some sort of clue.

"You didn't tell her?" Jake asks, a bit surprised. Phoenix just shakes her head, a blush coming to life on her cheeks and over the tips of her ears. She hasn't blushed this much in a long, long time, but the warmth that spreads over her features also warms her heart a bit.

"What did you do?" Sunny asks, grabbing her friends shoulder. The gesture is playful, but Sunny attempts to make a serious face. It cracks when the corner of her lip quirks up just a bit, alluding to the smile she is holding back.

"We- the squad- sort of bet on if youwouldbehotornot" The last few words come out all together, mumbled under Nat's breath. She tried her best to cover them up, but Sunny wears a stern expression that reads 'try again'.

"We took bets on if you would be hot or not, since we didn't know what you looked like," Natasha explains a bit sheepishly, feeling a bit ashamed about it now. "In my defense, it was Rooster's idea."

"And you won?" Sunny asks. The group nods. "Great, then what's my cut?"

"Your cut?" Jake's a bit taken aback, his eyebrows jumping to his hairline. A wide smile has broken his usual smirk, the joy he is feeling no longer tucked behind a well rehearsed exterior.

"Yeah, my cut. You bet on me, and you won, because I am hot as fuck, and I think I deserve my share because I delivered," Sunny's explanation is nonchalant as she sips on her Pepsi. The Daggers break out into fits of laughter, their eyes squeezing shut, each wearing a bright smile.

Sunny worries for a second as the Daggers stare at her, smiling. She worries she might have said the wrong thing, gone too far with a group who doesn't know her humor.

"I knew I liked you for a reason," Natasha wraps her arm around Sunny, bringing her close yet again. The words comfort Sunny instantly.

"You like me for a lot of reasons," Her elbow meets the space between Nat's ribs, "Including the fact that I have continued to put up with your shenanigans for the last ten years. Remember when you were twenty-six and you met that couple outside the-"

Hangman and Rooster's eyes snap up to meet Sunny's, Natasha's hands coming up to conseal the words coming out of her friend's mouth. She is shaking her head violently, begging Sunny to quit talking, her eyes wide. Sunny tries to lean away from the hands on her face, a couple of words coming out unmuffled. 'Chevy' 'Cherry Flavored' and 'Inches' are the only words the boys could clearly make out, leaving them more confused than they began as Natasha's whole body flushed a deep raspberry, no doubt reliving the memory in her head.

Sunny sat there laughing, her hands around her friend's wrists, keeping her upright as she began to cackle, her whole body shaking with laughter. Everything feels right between the four, the laughter ringing out through the air.

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madsmax13 · 8 months

Text

Souls Intertwined By Fate

Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Summary: As soulmates, you can feel the exact intensity of pain as your other half when they get hurt. So what happens when your soulmate literally goes to hell?

Words: 1418

Warnings: descriptions of death, mention of suicide, angst, full discretion is adviced

A/N: Sorry for the wait, but it's finally here! You and Dean finally meet, and the world you've just settled into threatens to give in // Dividers by @firefly-graphics // hope you like this one Xx

⇤ PART 2

Supernatural Masterlist • Main Masterlist

Souls Intertwined By Fate Masterlist

From the moment you had left Ellen's bar, you had felt a unique kind of dread, the emptiness in your heart widening with each step you took away from the person you had destined to be with.

But it is the best for both of you, that you are sure of.

You don't hesitate to admit that you are selfish to try to save yourself from prospective heartbreak or have the possibility of going through what your mother had gone through, especially when you now knew that he was a hunter as well.

"Morning, Y/N." Chris mutters with a quick kiss to your neck as he hugs you from behind.

"Good morning." You smile as you turn and close the gap between your lips. You were making coffee after getting up from the bed you share with Chris, and this has become a new normal for you.

It has been a couple of weeks since you landed in the small town of New Harmony, Indiana.

Excluding a few aches, cuts and bruises that aren't visible or have a cause, you have had no interactions with the supernatural - willingly keeping off from reading news or watching it on the TV.

You know your intuitions won’t help pick off the signs of those activities in the world, you're just going to ignore it.

Well, you did investigate Old Neil's Cabin, and having found that he hasn't hurt anyone yet, you let him be - but not before making a note on where he is buried.

It's a simple start to the day as it has been for a while now, and for some reason, there remains a feeling that something is wrong - or better yet, something is missing.

Still, as you help around Chris’ family diner and motel, there remains the familiar signs of adrenalin rush that you know come from hunting, even when you’re doing something as mundane as getting a plate of fries to the customers.

There is random quickening of your heartbeat, and the dreams of his green eyes, when you’ve only seen them once.

So in this quaint little town, the sun dips below the horizon once more, casting a warm glow across the streets. Your break from the hunting life gave you a little bit of solace in this peaceful corner of the world. The semblance of normalcy feels like a weird sense of relief.

And today, it just seems like it will be happier than many before.

Meanwhile, Dean Winchester, the ever-determined hunter, was on the road once again with Sam beside him. This time, he is a little serious - with the short time frame of his inevitable death hanging over his head.

But he is happy today, it's his birthday today, and Sam got him a box of little things, from his favorite aftershave to a smart-looking watch.

He feels a little guilty while thanking him because he doesn't trust him enough to keep a secret from Ruby, he hasn’t told his brother about his soulmate yet.

He doesn’t want to know what limits the demons will test with someone they can hurt him with, even without getting a hold of him.

“I’m hungry.” Sam complains while reading a newspaper.

“I’ll pull up to the next diner I see.” Dean says. “Besides, it's been too long since I got a belly full of something cheesy.”

“You had a lunch full of cholesterol yesterday, Dean.” Sam reprimands him with a shake of his head.

Dean’s stomach rumbles just in time as a reply to Sam’s comment. “Let’s find some food in this town.”

Some time later, they come across a diner, and Dean wastes no time hauling up next to it. The bell above the door tinkles as they enter.

“Finally.” Dean mutters, glancing around the diner. It isn't overly crowded, probably just a few locals scattered across the booths. He spots an empty seat by the window and starts walking towards it, Sam following closely.

As Dean studies the menu, Sam leans across the table. “You know, man, you’ve been acting a bit weird lately. Anything you wanna talk about?”

Dean sighs, trying to avoid this conversation. “Not today.” And with efforts to do so, he averts his eyes, flitting them across the diner.

But then, his eyes lock onto a waitress, her seeming oddly recognizable. He swallows hard, torn between his instinct to approach and the fear of her reaction.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice pulls him from his trance. “You okay?”

He shakes his head, plastering on a faint smile to mask his nervousness. “Yeah, just lost in thought.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Sam comments.

You smile at Ellie as you get her order, a usual patron of the diner. You feel unusually happy today, and while you don’t know the reason why, you don't want to jinx it and so you just go on about your day.

Then your heart starts beating rapidly again, but the palpitations aren’t what you are used to.

You turn with furrowed eyebrows and closed eyes. When you open them, they find green ones - to be more precise, those from your dreams.

Time stands still, and recognition flashes between you two - a connection stronger than memory, a bond forged through shared emotions. Your breath hitches, your soulmate is sitting right in front of you.

You don’t know what to do, and while your heart wants to stay, your brain decides to run away. And so, you hurry through the side door of the diner.

“I’ll be right back,” Dean announces and rushes right after you, leaving Sam with no second thought.

You’re there, standing against the wall under the streetlamp in the back alley, your hand against your chest. The night falls, and you look like an angel glowing in the yellow light.

When your eyes join, your hearts start thumping in a turbo-mode and neither of you know if it's because of the bond or due to the other's presence.

“Hi.” Dean whispers, not knowing what else to say.

“Hello,” You whisper back, not wanting to break the bubble that has formed around the two of you.

The traffic from the main road has quietened down, as has the chatter from the busy diner, and all you’re aware of is this beautiful specimen of a man, and your conniving heart which has finally won against your brain.

“How are you?” Dean wants to hit himself just as the words leave his mouth. But then again, what are you supposed to say to your soulmate when you come face to face for the first time?

“I’m good. What about you?” You ask, a smile appearing on his face that you cannot help but match him. And my god, the crinkles that frame his eyes.

“I guess I’m good too - now that I met you.” Both of you laugh, and when your heart finally allows your brain to speak, you start drowning in anxiety, leaving you speechless again.

Everything that you’ve been running from, everything you left behind and everything that you’re up against is on his feet, just a few feet in front of you. Your soulmate.

While it feels like it has been decades, it has been only minutes.

Before you can conjure up a sentence, the side doors open with a thud - and Chris appears, looking tense.

“Everything all right here, Y/N?” Chris asks, staring at Dean as if to determine if there are any signs of aggression, and then settling on you to ensure that you’re fine. “Ellie told me to check up on you.”

His posture straight and hands in a fist, almost like he’s getting ready to fight, fight for you.

The men stand tall with chests puffed, nearly similar in height as they both try to intimidate each other.

You nod, hoping to calm him. “It’s okay, Chris, this is -” you stop there, not knowing his name.

“Dean,” the man completes. You sheepishly smile at him before turning to Chris.

“Chris, this is Dean, my… My soulmate.” Saying it leaves an unnatural taste in your mouth,

You see his features turn from hostility into those of apprehension as he replies, his eyes narrowed. “I see…”

“Please give me a few minutes, Chris, I’ll come find you.” He gives you one final look, asking indirectly if you’re sure, and you nod with reassurance before he leaves.

“So Y/N, is it?” Dean asks, and you bite your lip.

“Yup. I guess we have a lot to talk about.”

Part 4 (Coming Soon on Tumblr/ Read it on BuyMeACoffee Now!)

I’d love to hear what you think of it! Please like, reblog and comment to let me know Xx

I just started a BuyMeACoffee Page where you can read Chapter 4 right now! Its kind of an emotional one where you have a difficult conversation which will determine where you will go from here.

My BMAC Page also has the first chapter of a new Dean Winchester X Reader story with the following summary: Best friends Dean and Y/N navigate a world of supernatural challenges and unspoken feelings. Sam, the ever observant brother, and Cas, the ever puzzled angel of the lord, discreetly encourage their romance through late-night talks, teasing, and shared hunts. As tension builds and emotions simmer beneath the surface, their journey unfolds through this story.

READ IT HERE- SECRETS OF A HUNTER'S HEART

Find out what else I offer on my buymeacoffee page - HERE

It's okay if you can't support me monetory-wise right now, even reblogging my fics help a lot!

Tags in reblog, either comment or reblog this fic if you wanna be tagged in the next part Xx

Thank you so much for your support ♥

Yours Truly,

Vee 💕

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