#and then again when rufus comes out to him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fraugwinska · 25 days

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I tried my hands on an Human!Alastor fic ;> It's still very different to write for Human Al, but I hope y'all like it ;> Special thanks to @hurthermore for beta-reading and encouraging me <3 This one's for you, love! !! NSFW - Heavy Smut Ahead, Minors DNI - 6k words !!

„You need technical assistance, sir?“

Alastor looked up from the papers on his desk, adjusting his glasses that slipped down the bridge of his nose. He didn't expect her to come in this late, or at all, not while he was still at the station. The curious little sound engineer that had started half a year ago was standing at his office entrance, hands in the pockets of her outrageous trousers. She was tiny, her small figure barely filled the door frame, even with her bulky tool bag that hung from her shoulders. Alastor leaned back in his seat, folding his hands, focusing his tired gaze on her defensive expression.

She was a novelty, that one. Not the first woman working at the station of course, but the first to assert herself in the male-dominated field of technical engineering. Her male colleagues saw the spunky, brass girl as a joke, either ignoring her or trying (very amateurishly) to bed her – both which didn't faze her at all meeting both scenarios with the same contemptuous indifference. The women – secretaries, errand girls and concierges – were much more organized and refined in their bullying. Shortly after her arrival rumors had already spread, one more abstruse than the other, and they had collectively decided to pretend the engineer didn't exist in their periphery. More than once he witnessed her talking to his own secretary Ruth, just to be left standing while Ruth got up and walked out with the other girls to lunch in the middle of her sentence.

The little engineer took it all in stride, though. Never complained, never became outright disrespect- or revengeful. Gradually, her expressions steeled, her answers shortened and her work hours shifted to evenings or nights, with less people to run into.

Alastor had been fascinated by her the moment they first met. He had just started his usual 'Saturday Golden Hour', his favorite and most popular segment to host, broadcasting the newest releases of jazz and swing in the evening, just before sundown. Not even ten minutes in, right after he started playing Bing Crosby's new song 'Dancing in the Dark', listeners started calling the station by the handful, complaining about horrific feedback's and sudden blackouts. While Alastor watched Rufus Ellis, the head of the tech team, frantically run around, yelling at his workers, the little engineer had wordlessly grabbed a few tools and vanished. Five minutes later, his broadcast went back to working perfectly, sound crisp and quality flawless once again. She had returned, put back the tools from where she had taken them, and when Ellis – flabbergasted – asked her what she had done, she had calmly explained that she went up on the roof to check the transmitters connected to the radio tower and fixed a broken generator that had malfunctioned due to some doves nesting in it.

No one thanked or even acknowledged her, they just shrugged and went back to business as usual. But Alastor didn't forget, and from this day he was determined to find out more about this extraordinary girl. She reminded him of his own struggle as the exception to the rule – it was a well-kept secret throughout the station exactly what Alastor looked like and who he was. That was the only reason he was able to do what he felt was born to, a cruel, unfair compromise. So, he felt an unusual sympathy for her, in addition to just his natural curiosity for oddities. However, he didn't expect her to be so elusive.

Whenever he tried to engage her in a conversation, she gave short, finite responses, avoided his eyes and hurried to get away from him, sometimes even bordering on rudeness in her haste to flee from him. Alastor was, to be frank, perplexed - his charm usually drew in the ladies unwantedly. That it had failed him now, with the little engineer, when he welcomed it for a change? Peculiar. To a degree, it angered him, but it also awakened his hunting instinct, just not the one he was used to.

“I'm afraid so, dear.”, Alastor smiled, standing up. He rounded his desk, hands behind his back, and went to her side, looking down a t her. Granted, he was a tall man, but next to her, he felt almost gigantic, which satisfied him in a strange way. “I noticed my microphone was acting up today, and would like you to take a look at it, if you don't mind. Before it decides to give up on me mid-broadcast.”

“That's my job, sir.”, she just answered, eyes intensely staring at the carpet. Alastor's eyebrow twitched in slight aggravation. But he lead her to his booth, unlocking it to let her in. She went straight to his seat, dropping her tool bag next to it and started to pull his microphone to her to inspect it. He quietly closed the door, locking it discreetly – just as a precaution so she couldn't flee him again so easily, now that he finally had her in his vicinity.

Alastor walked over to her, leaning over her shoulder to watch her carefully taking the device apart. She startled when she saw him out of the corner of her eyes. “It may take a while, sir.”, she mumbled, an obvious attempt to make him leave. Alastor laughed. “I've got nowhere to be, dear, take your time.”, he said with a hint of mischievous delight. He heard her scoff, turning back to her work. There was a prolonged silence, her fiercely ignoring Alastor's quiet, content humming while her fingers picked apart and put together parts and cables. He used the time to analyze her appearance – her hair was smooth but more unkempt than for a girl her age – how old must she be? Twenty, maybe Twenty-one? Vanity surely wasn't a flaw of hers, she didn't wear much make-up and Alastor saw various faint, light scars on her arms and hands, little bookmarks of mishaps and failures of her chosen career – the sight of them sent a sick shiver down his spine. Given his... hobbies, he found twisted appeal in scarred skin, finding beauty in those white, shimmering lines where blood once dripped from. He roamed her supple, curved body – unlike the recent fad of skinny, androgynous frames she was built womanly, round and fleshy... how beautiful could he paint her with white streaks on this vast canvas, add some masterpieces of his own to the collection?

“Alright.”, she pulled him out of his thoughts, mounting the microphone back on it's flexible stand. “A few cables were starting to corrode, I've replaced them, it should work fine now.” Alastor grinned down at her, putting one of his hands on her shoulder. The first real contact. “What an efficient engineer you are, dear. Always coming to my rescue, I have yet to show my gratitude.” She didn't look up, didn't even acknowledge that he said something to her, just packing up the various things she had spread out for the repair. Now that was just rude.

“Hello? Is this thing on?”, Alastor strained himself to sound lighthearted as he knocked two times on her head, feeling the shivers of impatience rising. The engineer closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, shifting in his chair with furrowed brows. “I'm getting paid to do my job. I don't need anything else.” She attempted to stand up, but his hand, still resting on her shoulder, holds her in place. “If that's all, sir?��

“Now now, not to hasty. I'd think it's unlike you to leave work halfway done. Normally you are quite thorough, aren't you?” Alastor cooed, tilting his head at her. “My work is done.” she said, her voice now intense and a faint tint of red on her cheek and neck. My, there's the little ferocity he thought she'd lost at the job. “Why we haven't tested the thing, dear – How can I be sure it works properly?”

“Because I know what I'm doing.” She looked outright offended at the implied possibility that she failed the task he asked of her. He had to chuckle, such a childish reaction to something so innocent. Maybe it was because implications like these grated her thick skin, but Alastor had no problem with being the straw that breaks that camel's back. He was skilled in putting people back in their place, and with her, it would be much more entertaining and much less fatal than with his other... acquaintances. He decided to tickle this sleeping dragon just a bit more, with a funny little idea in mind.

“No one is infallible – especially when they are so young. No fault in that, dear, but I'd like to be sure.” Alastor swiftly grabbed her wrist, pulling her up to stand. Putting up no resistance, most likely because of sheer perplexity, he twirled her almost like in a dance, side-stepping to his chair, and sat down, pulling her onto his lap, locking her there by an arm wrapped around her waist. The look on her face was worth it's weight in gold – eyes wide, mouth agape in stunned shock, and tips of the ears reddened. Her hands grappled the armrests so forcefully her knuckles were as white as the scars on her arms, and within seconds of regaining her active conscience she squirmed against his body. “What... that's so... sir, please let me g...” “There you go, dear.”, Alastor ignored her babbling, using his free hand to put the headphones on her. Her pulse under her thin, clear skin drummed faster against him, it's heat felt like it could boil his own blood.

He grabbed his own microphone, swinging it up between their faces and leaned forward, chin resting on her shoulder and the grille brushing his lower lip. She stared, dumbstruck, a bead of sweat forming on her forehead. He chuckled against her cheek, leaning his mouth to the mic as he pushed the switch on the control panel up, and his rich, sultry baritone echoed in her headphones.

"How about it, darling, do you hear me?"

She breathed deeply, gulping, and her heart sped up even more. Alastor smiled devilishly against her soft skin, delighted and in awe by how far he got her worked up as she just nodded sharply.

"No soundrops, feedback or small interferences?", he hummed, his voice dripping sweet honey. She took a moment to answer. "N-no... everything seems alright."

"Lovely." He almost whispered, but she heard it crystal clear through the headphones. He let a low sigh and took off his glasses with one hand, slowly, teasingly, his nose tracing over her neck, as if it was coincidental, as if he'd never ever do such a thing intentionally, putting the accessory on the table next to him, eyes locking on the hazel ones of hers mirrored in them. "Although I wonder..." He pushed the mic nearer to her mouth, seeing a tremble running over her body. "... if the higher pitches might be a problem... You wouldn't mind help with that, would you?"

She stiffened up, barely daring to breathe, her skin erupting into goose flesh underneath his lips, he felt the impulse to press them against her, lick the salt and nervousness from it.

"Sir, I-I can't.."

He chuckled at her strained, whispering voice. How beautiful was her distress, so rich, so fragrant, almost strong enough for him to savor its essence without even needing to touch her.

"Then, may I assist you?", Alastor felt himself giddy with impish delight, his hands slowly trailing upwards from her waist to her bust, cupping her gently through the thin fabric. This made her wriggle again, a small, high pitched squeak leaving her lips that his microphone just amplified in glorious reverberations. Alastor chuckled darkly as she froze, neck burning red in deep embarrassment from the sound she heard from the headphones.

"Now we're talking. A wonderful first try. But let's see what else we can get out of you, darling. After all, we want to be thorough."

His hands palmed and kneaded the supple flesh through the cotton, feeling her squirm and tremble and the warmth of her bosom, imagining the blood rushing through her heart. How exquisite was she?

He could hear a small whimper as her head slightly lowered. Was she closing her eyes? He imagined it so. Imagined she'd shut her pretty eyes closed, furrow her brows in conflict as her legs pressed against each other in fruitless desperation. Her hands tightened on the armrest.

"You are so very quiet, dear. Why don't you relax and turn the volume up for me?"

With one of his hands he quickly loosened the two buttons that kept her blouse close and tugged at the collar to widen the neck hole, then slid under her brassier and gripped one breast with a tight squeeze. Alastor caught his breath as he realized just how sensitive and sweet the freckled skin under his fingertips was. Soft. Warm. So fragile... He would never have imagined this was hiding under her daily uniform, her sagging shoulders and loose jacket hiding those lovely features. Alastor felt a delightful spark crackle in his head and shoot up the nerves of his spine. His hunting instinct pulsed under the mask. But... with a slight delay, Alastor recognized it as a different type of hunger... one of the carnal and more depraved kind. Another novelty for him.

Alastor suddenly wondered what her lips tasted like, how soft and warm would they feel on his, her teeth biting, her tongue teasing him. How many ways could he break her - and could he do it quickly, with his bare hands, with his words alone maybe, or with his undisciplined arousal pushing against her rear-end through the fabric of his trousers? How often did she think of him? How did she think of him? Did she fear him, or dislike him even? He could hear her breathing hasten as he was trying to compose himself.

There was the devil's urge to just let himself go. To shove the equipment aside and tear those outrageously inadequate clothes away from her flesh, run his hands over the skin he didn't get to see yet, trace and map those scars of hers until they fade underneath his fingers. Mark her more thoroughly than any machine mishap ever could. Make her cry, moan, beg and whine under him until there was nothing left in her and this novel hunger was satisfied.

A wonderfully loud moan escaped her, a sweet, silky, vibrato sound of passion, that went right from Alastor's chest into his pelvis. She opened her eyes wide, pressing her hand firmly over her mouth, mortified at her own pleasure.

Oh, Alastor thought to himself, smiling mischievously as the shock of lustful rapture coursed through him, how easy it was for him to undo her. So unexplored, so fresh... "Do you wish to stop, darling?", he asked with a teasing pinch of her hardened nipple, which made her cry out and her other hand fly up and cover her mouth, too. She shook her head, her cheeks flushed and hot, eyes hazed with confused pleasure. He rubbed and teased the nipple gently in his palm, holding her close, making her struggle in defiant silence. The only sound was his gentle, patient humming.

But oh, she was breaking, crumbling like a stale beignet, and the noises his hand bullied out of her turned from hushed whimpers to barely muffled groans and cries for him, long and wanting 'Sir's and 'Oh's. She was melting under his palm. He grinned wickedly, his lower body hard and wanting against her as he put the microphone to his own lips again and spoke into it.

"Say it with your words, dear, should I stop? Or is it that you can't hear me?"

"Y-yes! I mean... No sir... d-don't... stop." There was a suppressed crack in her voice, and Alastor sighed with lust at her gasping affirmation, grinding against her plushy backside. He has found it amusing to push her limits, break through her thick skin and riddle her, like an ice pick cracking open a glacier. And now it would shatter her so gorgeously. "It's Alastor, darling." He whispered into the microphone with a dragging, sultry voice, his hand retreating from her breast, only to snake it's way to the hem of her pants. Her legs twitched, pushing together to futilely protect her modesty, but her body eagerly arched in a way that gave such easy way for his fingers to slip under the garments, feel and stroke the short, coarse hair, following it's trail, only to meet soft, silken and slippery wetness. A startled gasp escaped her and the only reason she didn't leap up was because Alastor kept his firm grip on her waist, pulling her tight against his throbbing erection. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, exposing her delicate throat as she whimpered, hands flying from her mouth to the armrests again, gripping so hard her fingernails dug into the hard wooden surface.

He tried to restrain himself but couldn't, he testily bit into the thin, soft flesh of her neck as his fingers found their way into her entrance and dipped deep in, coating his palm in generous wetness and crooking, exploring carefully, but with a patience even he was surprised at, eyes fixated on the taut fabric as he thrust into her in tandem with the waves her body undulated at the new sensation, her sweet taste on his tongue.

"S-Sir, please...", she groaned against his hand that still remained pressed over her lips, as if it could suppress the bliss Alastor wrought her into. He withdrew his hand for a moment, fingers wet, glistening and slick, as she was breathless, but she couldn't hide how her hips were chasing his retreating touch. He leaned into the microphone, barely lifting his mouth from her neck.

"Say my name, and I shall listen, little engineer."

She hesitated for just a heartbeat, before opening her eyes, hazily staring at the ceiling as Alastor patiently waited, his fingers drawing idle circles around the sweet pearl on her outer folds. She pressed her lips together for a second, seemingly mentally preparing herself, and then opened her mouth, to give in, to submit to him.

"...A-Alastor, please..."

"I like the sound of my name from your lips, darling." He almost purred in return and resumed his movements with added vigor and focus. He put down his head on her shoulder, nuzzling into the juncture of her throat, watching her reaction and every detail of how his hand worked her over with the rhythmic hump of his hips, forcing him to breathe harshly as he was starting to be deprived of blood. He had barely noticed it, how incredibly erotic and sinful this whole thing felt not just for her, but for him, too. Partly of course, because of the chase, the coaxing, the hunt to have her call and writhe for only him, not for any of these imbeciles that tried to get their pick with her, his ears pricked and eager to savor her wanton sounds... A surprising need to be connected, closer to her than anyone ever could be in her whole life, and it made him even giddy to know no man had touched her like he was doing now, taking her purity with ease and glee.

But there was another part, something he thought slumbered too deep within him to be ever awoken, a roaring fire in his guts as the alluring, delicious scent of her arousal assaulted him like a siren's song, lulling, cajoling him with sensual desires to drown in them, to abandon all else and indulge, to completely give in and surrender. It wasn't tactical, calculating or strategic, but wild and primal and primitive, and not at all as painful or awkward to him as he had always thought it'd be.

What a revelation a woman's body could be.

He almost missed her coming into his eagerly working hand - a sudden, full-body twitch that went through her spine, a whine in her voice that ended in a choked sound as her orgasm claimed her and washed her away in the torrent of rapture - eyes going wide as the air escaped her in a desperate cry, hands gripping his thigh and the chair's armrest so hard the nails left little scratches in the wood. He barely had time to notice it before her climax hit him like a truck - the convulsing of her inner walls, gripping and spasming tightly around his fingers as he slowed and stroke out her high.

This moment was pure madness in his veins - his head foggy and airy, like a drug, like a vicious new addiction he would do almost anything for. Her body went slack against him, and the only thing that held her upright was Alastor's arm still securely around her, still keeping her pressed onto his hard length, still pulsing for some release of his own. Alastor wanted more, already was plotting what his hands could be doing to her body next as she came down from her high and back to earth, the heat leaving her body slowly as the soundproofed air trapped within the booth hung heavy with her hot breath and the smell of her passion.

The first movement of hers, after having come undone so beautifully for and on him, was to lift up the headphones.

"Well then, little engineer.", he huffed into her ear, laughing with barely hidden delight. "What is your final assessment?"

"Your microphone works perfectly. J-just like I said it would." She was determined, if nothing else. And unbearably cute when she was defiant. Alastor simply adored a fiery spirit, even as he was already thirsting for more. He looked up, her sharp tone prickling his pride. He shot her a glare from the corner of his eyes, his usually calm smile tugging upward in a half smirk as she avoided his eyes. Oh, was she starting to have second thoughts about her tone towards him?

"I always admired your work ethics and knowledge, my dear, even though you eluded my attempts to give you your well-deserved recognition." The hand not occupied in playing with her still moist, delicate flesh lifted the arm that she had still buried in his thigh, brushing his fingers lightly over her knuckles as he brought it to his lips. She went still as a stone under his fingertips. "I asked myself, what would be the reason you ignored and evaded me for so long? Do you dislike me that much, little engineering girl?"

"No." It took her a moment, a little quiver in her voice, but it seemed like this was the first time in a long while that her answer was as blunt and truthful. He sighed contentedly, planting a soft kiss on her hand. "Quite the contrary, in fact."

His eyes snapped to her, narrowed. She still refused to look at him, still tense and obviously embarrassed, her free hand trembling on her lap. So it hadn't been animosity that made her behave so coldly towards him, not aversion that made her flee his presence and not prejudice that made her avoid their encounters but...

"Ah." Alastor chuckled softly at her awkward behavior, grinning delightedly at the revelation. "Of course."

Shyness was a curious thing, he thought, often misinterpreted as either prude modesty or cold antipathy. And it seemed Alastor had fallen for the latter interpretation - he would've been miffed at the thought if it hadn't brought her here, into his lap, and into his hands - alas, better late than never, he guessed. And there was still something to take care of.

"Well, since you're not running from me now..." His hand left hers and joined his other one in pulling the belt of her pants open, gently tugging on the metal buckle until the strap slipped free. "Let me finally show my gratitude in kind, for the lovely engineer and her marvelous work."

He loosened his tight grip on her, enough so that he could turn her to face him - for once, she glanced at him from under her lashes, not only out of bashfulness now - but he thought he saw something like cautious anticipation there, too. His grin became even wider as she kept his gaze, even if barely. A last stubborn act of shy rebellion - in another situation it would have enraged Alastor, but now, he was delightfully fascinated and challenged by her stubborn nature, by the unpredictability of her reactions even now, as she herself hooked her fingers under the hem of her pants and pushed them down over her shapely hips.

The last barrier of decency fell between them, revealing the full picture before him - there was her reddened face framed by cascading locks, eyes lowered in embarrassed defeat; Her stiffened nipples prominent on her perky, tight breasts; The damp patch of dark pubic hair that barely hid her glistening privates and the plush roundness of her thighs. And the whole body covered in tiny, white streaks, healed cuts and burns scattered in between her freckles. Oh, she would be delightful to ruin over and over again.

He took a step towards her, his hands immediately moving to her hip, exploring, caressing the soft flesh. This time, she did not move away from his touch and watched him with big, wide-blown eyes, full of expectation and a new type of uncertainty as he lifted her up onto the main control panel. He discarded of his jacket, the cloth too heavy and hot for him now, and threw it aside carelessly, leaving his bow tie hanging loosely around his neck as he went back to the woman, his little prey. Her knees parted slightly when his body wedged between them, an inviting gesture from her, though Alastor suspected she herself didn't notice. He grinned darkly, lifting her chin up by a finger, before bending over and planting a firm but restrained kiss on her lips, feeling his own skin crawl in electric stimulation, eager to finally taste her. His hands made quick work of his slacks, freeing his almost painfully erect member with a pleased sigh. From the way she gasped and her eyes widened, he could easily deduct that she had less to no experience whatsoever.

Oh, what a fortune. Alastor relished the thought of claiming precious, well kept treasures, his breath quickened as he broke from the kiss, hands running over her heated skin in swift, soothing motions, goosebumps trailing in their wake as he felt her shudder with hesitant desire beneath him. Oh, this would be fun.

"Let's be sure you'll hear my message loud and clear, this time, hm?"

He took her mouth again before she could protest, discreetly angling the microphone down with one hand just near enough where she would soon enough be connected to him. With a sly grin, he lined himself up to her waiting entrance and slowly pushed in. She stiffened at the unfamiliar invasion, a mewl muffled against his lips and hands in his shirt, and he stilled, enjoying the way her body reflexively tightened and squeezed around him as she tried to cope with the sensation of him stretching her.

She gasped as her chest heaved from the feeling, her walls convulsing around him like a vice. He allowed a low groan to escape him, she felt so gloriously tight and hot he had trouble keeping his composure, hands twitching to rut into her and just plow through.

"Ready for the final test, darling?"

"T-test...?"

He didn't bother to give her an answer as he started to move. In and out, with slow and drawn out movements, keeping his thrusts shallow at first, deep and precise enough to press against her innermost point and making her moan helplessly. The wet sounds of their coupling reached his ears, coupled with her wanton cries, an obscene and enchanting noise he was waiting for. With a mischievous smile, he picked up the headphones from where she had put them down, lifting it to one of her ears. Her face flushed in such lovely shades of red when the squelching echoes of what the mic picked up reached her ears, amplified and oh-so-clear thanks to her own handiwork.

He let out a guttural chuckle as he leaned into her, still thrusting slowly, her head falling on his shoulder and hanging onto his shirt for dear life, knuckles white as she could hear all the sweet sounds their bodies made and how they connected, each inch of her body singing praises for only him, for his size and rhythm. He could tell the moment her walls began to relax around him, squeezing the blood into his member as she took him in again and again, accepting it's size wholeheartedly with greedy eagerness.

"Such a talented woman.", he praised into her free ear, sighing at the delicious way her slick, swollen lips slid over his length, her thighs twitching against his with every single thrust and every word that fell from his lips. "Just listen to the fruits of your impeccable labor, dearest. Almost wasted in a place like this."

A moan, shaky and delirious, a shuddering sob for him, so high and flustered she sounded almost pained escaped her throat. She pressed against him and with a jolt that reverberated through her spine, convulsing so sweetly against him he almost came from the tremor that rushed through his cock. But it wasn't her peak. Alastor hadn't gotten his fill yet and he wouldn't stop now until it was both of their turns, but damn if he wasn't tempted.

He reached to the other ear to put the second headphone on her. Now her world had no escape, she could only listen, only hear every filthy wet noise of his slick slide, his ragged breathing and the beat of her own heart- a heavy, cacophonous staccato.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, head clouded and flushed, looking up at him with rapt fascination. His own gaze met hers as his pace increased, suddenly snapping his hips with harsh precision, and his voice was low, carnal.

"But their loss is my gain, darling. Don't you ever forget that, now."

And his thoughts went to of those incompetent, thickheaded dunderheads who took their jobs, but were no where as skilled or invested as her, knowing full well they were inadequate and undeserving to get close to her, trying to touch what clearly should have been for him alone to do, and it sent a nasty spark of possessiveness through Alastor, igniting a furious hunger, a beast waking up within him and snarling with unbridled desire, to claim, to mark her as his. And nobody else's.

He grinned devilishly, a low rumble in his throat as a needy whine escaped his little engineer and he grabbed her waist tightly, digging his fingers into the fat there as he picked up speed and drilled into her with more intensity, savage, merciless and utterly ruthless, finally throwing all composure and rationality overboard to replace it with feral instinct and possessive desire. Her hands clutched him desperately, thighs tensing and pressing against his moving hips, her choked cries of his name were nothing else but heavenly and he was filled with lecherous obsession and greed - yes, he could get addicted to the sound of his name being screamed and moaned from her lips, her sweet, wet flesh fluttering around his throbbing length, the violent stuttering of her breath that just enticed and pleaded him to continue.

"Mine. My own, little, eager engineer." he hissed against the shell of her ear, headphones slipping from her, hips still pounding away at her heat with feverish pace and an undeniable pleasure coiling low and tightly within his pelvis. With every harsh thrust, every desperate, salacious cry, he pulled her deeper and deeper into sinful depravity, her head thrown back in bliss, the headphones slipping from her head as her nails scraped desperately over his clothed chest. The sharp bites of pain mixed with a sweet ache and tightening within Alastor, telltale signs of his climax nearing rapidly. "No more avoiding me, no more elusion or flight for you, understood? You are mine and mine alone."

Her toes curled as his words spurred her over the edge with him, her core spasming and quivering around him as her moans became ragged and desperate, jaw agape in rapture but no words found as she toppled into her orgasm, dragging and taking Alastor with her. The immense wave crashed into him and swept him along, and he growled in the sensational and exhilarating feeling and his head fell against her shoulder, with a growl ripping from his throat, low and guttural. His seed emptied in her with long, forceful spurts, her body tensing and relaxing as each twitch and jerk pushed his release deeper and deeper, the pleasure so acute, so sharp it was almost painful, until both their highs subsided and Alastor had to rest against her for a moment, their labored breaths the only noise that reached his ears.

Alastor sighed contentedly, his hand loosened it's grip and his fingertips gently traced over the angry, red lines they had left behind on her tanned skin of her waist, feeling her shivering underneath him. His lips pressed into the soft crook of her neck, placing a tender kiss on the flushed skin. He would have to do something about the bruising and marks... His eyes wandered up and he noticed that she was staring now, hazily and exhausted, her pupils still wide, lips bitten swollen and reddened, her cheeks and chest still painted pink with lingering arousal. The sight was so deliciously debauched and lewd, a smirk crept on his face.

"It seems that the equipment is indeed in perfect working order again, thanks to you, darling."

"...Yes, sir." she replied warily, her voice still breathless. Her usual demeanor returned, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes she tilted her head away from him. He chuckled, lifting her chin and capturing her lips once again, not much for hers but more for his own gain, and then moved off and out of her. He took a moment to savor the view - the red, swollen flesh, leaking his essence that pooled on the metal surface of his control panel he would work on in a few hours, and her thighs glistening in the faint orange light of the booth.

"Please, darling, from now on..." Alastor took a handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiping the mess of his hands and cleaning her with careful gentleness, her legs twitching weakly at the contact.

"...call me Alastor."

He hummed quietly and lifted her from the console, closing the buttons on her blouse again with fastidious efficiency after she slipped back into her pants. Then, with a few quick motions, Alastor picked up his jacket and fixed his own appearance, before helping her stand properly on her trembling feet.

"I trust we won't have any misunderstandings anymore?" He smiled at her, tilting his head slightly, a soft and yet challenging smile, his hand cupping her face and the thumb brushing her lower lip. Her cheeks grew warmer and redder again, her eyes flickering downwards, then back up, before she nodded silently. "Excellent."

Alastor put the headphones back on their rack, before taking his glasses, slipping them back on and reaching for the door handle, his other hand extended towards his little engineer in an inviting motion.

"Come along, my dear. Let me treat you to a nice cup of coffee, I find there's nothing better after a job well done."

She paused, her face going a shade darker and her lips pressing together. Then, after a heartbeat, she stepped next to him and through the door he opened for her. He could see the small smile that crept onto her lips as she hurriedly passed him, a shy glance shot towards him, but this time it didn't feel like she wasn't fleeing, but almost daring for him to chase her.

Another kind of hunt, he mused, and the thought made him smile as he closed the door and followed her out.

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actuallysaiyan · 3 months

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Let Me Into Your Heart(Rufus Shinra x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, use of pet names, smoking, drinking, general lewd stuff, love confessions, promiscuity word count: 1.8k pairings: Rufus Shinra x Fem!Reader summary: you were hired to be Rufus' cocksleeve when times get tough and he's stressed, but he fell so hard for you...yet he feels disgusted to confess to you because of how he's treated you before a/n: this is for he lovely @beneathstarryskies!! I love you and I hope you enjoy!!!

Rufus does all he can to control and contain himself whenever he is around you. You’re like a siren, calling to him dangerously. Your perfume smells a little too sweet, it makes his pants a little too tight at times. Sometimes he has to find a private place to take care of the issue before it becomes even worse.

You were hired specifically as someone who helps him with his stress and his problems. You soothe his needs whenever he needs it, which seems to be a lot more than you realized. When you were approached for this job, you figured you’d be giving a bratty heir to the Shinra company some tips on breathing exercises and some yoga stretches. But Rufus showed you almost immediately that you belonged on his bed, ass up and face down. Despite the sexual nature of your job, you kept your own feelings locked up tightly.

And Rufus believed he was doing the same thing. He thought for sure he could keep himself from falling so deeply for you. You were just a cute little cocksleeve. Nothing more, nothing less. But the more you tried to help him with other issues in his life, and the more you listened to him as you two stayed cuddled in his bed, the more he became aware of the growing feelings. It wasn’t long before he was growing mad at the fact that he had fallen head over heels for you.

You had been hired to soothe his needs, and here you were, invading his every waking thought.

You’re just too sweet, and too beautiful. He believes sometimes you’re an angel sent down to heaven just for him. Someone who would truly understand him whenever he wasn’t feeling very cared for. When the world wanted to beat him over and over and he couldn’t find the strength to hold on for much longer, you were there to show him that things were going to be okay. Your gentle touches and sweet kisses were what kept him up at night. And they were driving him mad…mostly because he wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you.

At times, he begins to wonder if he’ll just end up like his father. Horny and whoring himself around to anyone. He tries to hook up with a few people to forget about you, but none of these women know how to make him feel warm and loved. None of them know what he likes in bed. You know how to get him off without even really trying. He’s just worried that he won’t be able to keep it in his pants if he can’t continue to have you. If he falls deeper for you, then he’s going to have to claim you.

But the more time he spends with you, the more he’s realizing he’s falling deeper and deeper. Rufus grows angrier because this was never supposed to happen. It was supposed to be casual sex and blowjobs under his desk. Never was it supposed to grow into a warmth in his heart where your name remains etched. Never was it supposed to be something so soft and blissful like this. And yet, he can’t deny it anymore. He’s in love with you and this both scares and soothes him.

One night after a particularly long and hard day at work, Rufus finds himself feeling so antsy. He’s scared to ask you to come over, because he thinks this might be the night he confesses to you. He’s not ready for that right now. He can’t just spit out his feelings to you. It terrifies him to think about telling you how he feels about you, only for you to stare at him, or to laugh…or worse to tell him you never want to see him ever again.

Despite you being the person that was hired to soothe his needs, Rufus feels a little off about asking you to take care of him. He doesn’t want to worry you, because he knows you will worry about him. You’ll show him kindness and care, and you will offer to probably make him dinner. The thought doesn’t sit right with him. You treat him like he’s your husband, but it just makes him feel even more dirty.

He sits in his penthouse, sipping on a mixed drink and he’s indulging in his one vice he hides from almost everyone. Plumes of smoke float around as he puffs on a cigar. Usually it would be a cigarette, but he needed something stronger tonight. Something to get his mind off the aching in his cock and the aching in his heart.

One hand holds the cigar while the other begins to palm his cock through his fancy dress pants. He’s thinking about asking you to come here, but with every thought of you being on your knees for him, the more he becomes disgusted with himself. He needs to figure out a better way to deal with him being pent up, but there’s nothing else he wants besides you.

He begins to scroll through his phone, looking for other women he could contact so that he could just have a quick fuck. But he keeps seeing your posts and your selfies, and it makes his cock twitch even more. He takes another drag from his cigar, then he stubs it out in the ashtray. He finishes off the drink, grimacing as the alcohol goes down roughly.

Eventually, he gets too frustrated with himself. He gets up from his seat on the balcony. Nothing is going to quench his thirst like you. Nothing will make him satisfied like you. He texts his driver to come pick him up so he can go to you.

The minute he’s out of the car in front of your place, there’s something that snaps within him. He begins banging on the door, loudly and hard. He needs you more than even he can comprehend at this point.

“Come on, I know you’re in there. Let me in!”

His voice surprises and excites you. He’s ready to show you just how much he loves you, but you really have no idea of his intentions. You figure he must just be over for a booty call. When you open the door, he’s pushing his way inside immediately. You see something deep in his eyes, and you notice just how much darker they are. You’re hit with the scent of his natural musk coupled with whiskey.

“Rufus, what—”

But you’re interrupted with his lips crashing down on yours. It feels so good to be kissed roughly by the man you had fallen in love with. What he never realized was that you had been battling your own inner demons about confessing to him. You figured he’d never want to fall in love with someone so plain and not from a rich family.

“You’re mine, you got it?” He growls in your ear as he begins leading you towards your room.

He’s only ever been here a few times, but every time that he’s here, he’s filled with love and comfort. It’s so warm and cozy in here, Everything bears your scent as well, which only seems to make him want to claim you even more. Once inside the bedroom, he’s pushing you onto the bed. You try to ask him what’s going on again, but he’s shushing you with a deep searing kiss.

“My pretty little baby,” he groans in your ear as he begins to grind against you. “You’ve been on my mind all day.”

Your eyes widen, “Really?”

He kisses you again, this one makes your head whirl. You know nobody can make you feel the way he does. His hands cup your face, pulling you in even closer. Your hands softly caress his back, making him grunt as you begin to massage his tense shoulders.

“How am I supposed to stay away?” he asks, his eyes so dark with lust.

“You don’t need to.”

And with that, you capture his lips with yours in a passionate kiss. He drinks you in, relishing in the way your tongue is so soft against his own. With able hands, he begins to undress you. You’re doing the same to him. Both of you too pent up to take your time. You need each other and you need each other now.

Once you’re undressed, Rufus takes a moment to take you all in. You’re so beautiful, so angelic. A goddess made specifically just for him. You let out a sweet whine when his fingers begin to play with your soaked folds. He loves how you’ve become so wet for him just from some making out.

“I tried to keep myself from you,” he confesses between heated kisses. “But I can’t anymore. I need you,”

You pant, “Take me. I’m all yours.”

He spreads your thighs, and his eyes are locked onto your beautiful glistening cunt. You reach over and begin stroking his aching cock, making him hiss through gritted teeth. He’s in heaven right now, and he knows it’s only going to get better from here.

Slowly, he slips into you. Inch by delicious inch begins to stretch you out. Your eyes roll back the minute he bottoms out. Your hands weakly reach out for him as you try to grind yourself. It’s all too much, you can already feel your walls beginning to contract around him,

Rufus leans in for a sweet kiss, and he knows he won’t last long either. Now or never, he’s going to tell you just how much he adores you. He begins rocking his hips slowly, surprising you both. You figured you’d be getting pounded into the mattress tonight, but Rufus needs you to be so close to him.

“How I have longed for you,” he murmurs against your sweat-slicked skin. “I love you, my angel.”

You gasp at his words. He thrusts deeply a few more times, making the coil in your tummy so tight. You barely have time to warn him that you’re coming undone when the dam breaks. You cling to him as he fucks himself deeper and harder, prolonging that blissfully sweet pleasure. You’re sobbing and moaning and mewling, just holding onto him as he gives you the most heavenly orgasm you’ve ever felt.

“Shit–” he grunts. “Can I? Can I cum inside?”

You nod, “Yes, please! Please!”

His hips stutter as his orgasm hits him like a freight train. It’s intense, throbbing and messy. Ropes of hot cum begin filling up your awaiting womb. You both move against one another, prolonging the sweetest orgasm you’ve ever had. Then slowly, you two stop and hold onto each other.

“I love you too, Rufus.”

And for the first time in a little while, he believes that things can be okay. Things can be okay because he has you.

#bacon.writes #rufus shinra x reader #Rufus shinra x you #Rufus shinra x y/n #Rufus shinra smut #Rufus shinra fluff #Rufus ff7 x reader #rufus ff7 x you #ff7 x reader #ff7 smut #ff7 remake x reader #ff7 remake smut

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rottenpumpkin13 · 28 days

Note

You know what..? I want a rundown of Genesis doing a mission disguised in full drag. We have been teased for too long 😂 x

Things That Happen When Genesis Wears A Dress

• Sephiroth and Lazard are going over a mission plan one day, strategizing and seeing what's the best course of action to take. Apparently someone is leaking SOLDIER information to their enemies and the suspect is someone within the company.

Sephiroth: I could conduct an interrogation to extract information from our target. Would torture work?

Lazard: No. We don't even know who he is exactly. Attempting to apprehend him in public could escalate tensions significantly.

Sephiroth: Then what alternative do you suggest?

Lazard: I'd say the best thing to do is to employ seduction to elicit the necessary information from him. He's only a man, after all.

Sephiroth: I refuse to sleep with him.

Lazard: NO. Not you. I meant we need someone pretty.

Sephiroth, offended: Oh, I'm sorry. Am I not attractive?

Lazard: I meant someone with breasts, Sephiroth.

Sephiroth: You're implying that mine aren't good enough.

Lazard: For fucks sake. I mean someone with long hair, an appealing physique, perhaps a small waist.

Sephiroth: You're describing me.

Lazard: I MEAN A WOMAN.

Sephiroth: But this mission must be conducted by a SOLDIER First Class. There are no women in First Class.

Lazard: No, but there is someone who just as appealing who can fit in a dress and heels. Do you understand what I'm implying?

Sephiroth: Of course. You think I would look appealing in a dress. I'm flattered.

Lazard: Sephiroth get out of my office.

Genesis: So let me get this straight—

Sephiroth: Mission failed.

Genesis: Shut up. Let me get this straight: you think just because I'm queer and have a theatric flair to my personality, I'm automatically down to cross dress?

Angeal: Gen, it's just for one night. We'll be right there with you. All you have to do is attend the party, find the informant, find the target, flirt with him, get him drunk, and convince him to give you the information

Genesis: And you assume I have the experience? Why?

Sephiroth: Because the last package that came in for you was a box of lace corsets, addressed to Genevieve.

Genesis: Do not presume to question my actions.

• They arrive at the event, which is a party hosted by Rufus Shinra in the event area of the HQ. Angeal and Sephiroth turn heads, not because they're who they are, but because they have a stunning woman in a red dress with them.

Angeal: We should split up to look for the informant. Lazard said he would be wearing a blue carnival mask.

Sephiroth: When one of us finds him, we'll signal to each other, and Genesis if you get to him first make sure to let us know.

Genesis: Do my breasts look authentic to you?

*Sephiroth looks down at them*

*Genesis slaps him*

Sephiroth: !?

Genesis: How dare you.

• Genesis is walking around the party looking for the target when he runs into (literally) the worst thing to stumble upon when you're wearing stilettos, an evening dress and a hot wig.

Zack: Good evening, miss!

Genesis: For fucks sake.

Zack: I don't think we've met before. Do you work for the company?

Genesis:

Zack:

Genesis: Do you not...do you not recognize⏤you know what? I don't have time for this. *he tries to pass, Zack holds him back*

Zack: Can I be honest with you? You're the most charming woman I've ever seen. Your beauty is indescribable.

Genesis: I'm flattered, but unfortunately I'm in a hurry—*he tries to pass again, Zack holds him back again*

Zack: I can't possibly let you leave without knowing your name.

Genesis: Uh... Genevieve.

Zack: Genevieve! Do you wanna dance?

Genesis, panicking: I have a boyfriend.

Zack: He can be disposed of.

Genesis: HEH!?

Zack: I mean I'm sure he won't mind. Come on! It's just one dance!

*Zack leads Genesis to the dance floor before he can protest*

• Sephiroth finds the informant, who just as Lazard said, would be wearing a blue carnival mask.

Sephiroth: ...........

Informant, who's definitely not Lazard in disguise: Greetings.

Sephiroth: Director, what are you—

Informant: I have no idea what you're talking about. Lazard Deusericus and I have been in contact. I assume you understand why I need to conceal my identity.

Sephiroth: You're wearing the cufflinks I got you for Christmas.

Informant: You must have me mistaken for someone else. Now, my sources tell me your target's name is Sufur and he's wearing white.

Sephiroth:

Informant (not Lazard):

Sephiroth: Is this a joke of some kind?

Informant: What do you mean?

Sephiroth: Are there cameras filming me right now? You're insinuating that Rufus Shinra is the one leaking information on SOLDIER?

Informant: No, I just told you that his name is Sufur.

Sephiroth: Lazard—

Informant: Who's Lazard? My name is Drazal.

Sephiroth: Good grief.

*Zack approaches Tseng, Reno and Rufus with Genesis on his arm*

Genesis: Oh no.

Zack: Hey guys, this is my date for the night, Genevieve.

Tseng: What the fuck

Reno: Hot damn.

Rufus: Mind your language around the lady, gentlemen.

Tseng: Lady?? This Commander Rhapsodos in a dress.

Zack: Tseng! That's horrible!

Rufus: Apologize to miss Genevieve at once. I won't stand here and listen to you insult this gorgeous young woman.

Reno: Yeah, Tseng! How can you stand there and insult the hottest woman I've ever seen?

Tseng: I'm fairly certain this is a man.

*Reno punches Tseng in the face*

Tseng, shocked: !?

Zack: Thanks, Reno.

Reno: Any time, man,

Tseng: This is why Veld left us.

*Zack and Genesis are dancing when Sephiroth interrupts them by putting a hand on Genesis' arm*

Zack: Uhh...Sephiroth, what are you doing?

Sephiroth: I came to tell you. *he turns to Genesis* It turns out Rufus is our target.

Zack: Ah, I see what this is.

Genesis: You do?

Zack: Of course. Sephiroth is the boyfriend you claimed to be involved with. And now he's here to try to take you away from me.

Sephiroth & Genesis: WHAT?

Zack: You won’t get away with this. I challenge you to a duel for her hand.

Sephiroth: Zack, I'm not about to fight you for Gen⏤ACK!

*Zack pulls Sephiroth by the hair and tackles him. This angers Sephiroth greatly. The two end up on the ground fist-fighting. Genesis should intervene and put an end to it, but the scene is so ridiculous, he can only stand there in shock.

*Angeal returns*

Angeal: You’re not gonna believe this. I talked to some people and found out that our target is an ex-Third Class with a grudge. I called HQ and got him taken in for questioning.

*Zack is actively choking Sephiroth in the background. Zack screams "SHE LOVES ME, NOT YOU" Sephiroth responds with "HE HAS POSTERS OF ME ON HIS WALL. THAT'S A CLEAR INDICATOR OF HIS DEVOTION TO ME*

Genesis: Oh goddess.

*Rufus notices that they're fighting over Genesis. He joins the fight, dragging Zack away from Sephiroth. Now all three of them are arguing. Rufus screams: "YOU GENTLEMEN ARE HARDLY FIT TO HAVE HER HAND IN MARRIAGE. I PLAN ON TAKING HER TO MEET MY FATHER"*

Angeal: Yeah, and get this: I found Lazard here at the party too, and he was under the impression that Rufus was the rat. He was in disguise and everything, trying to blame Rufus for the whole thing.

*Sephiroth screams: "YOU'LL SOONER TAKE HER TO MEET GLENN IN THE AFTERLIFE" and punches Rufus in the gut*

Genesis: This entire night is a mess. I wore a corset and heels for nothing.

*Sephiroth pulls out Masamune and now him and Zack are dueling. Rufus pulls out his gun and is aiming it at them both. All three of them are screaming at each other*

Angeal: Unfortunately, yeah.

*Reno, upon noticing that they're fighting over Genesis, appears with a fire extinguisher and knocks Rufus out before he can do anything*

Genesis: This was such a waste of a good look.

*It appears Rufus is unresponsive. Now Sephiroth, Reno and Zack are arguing over what to do. Reno screams "I CALL DIBS ON THE PRETTY REDHEAD" Sephiroth replies with "YOUR DIBS ARE INVALID IF YOU'VE JUST KILLED A MAN" Zack says "HEY! ANGEAL IS TALKING TO HER RIGHT NOW!"

Angeal: Would it make you feel better if I took you out to dinner?

*Sephiroth and Reno tackle Angeal before Genesis can respond*

Genesis: ..........

Zack: Man, if Genesis were here right now he'd never believe this.

#storytime #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #rufus shinra

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luveline · 1 year

Note

taking roan to see santa and she is so excited to tell him about her new mommy and the things she wants for christmas and when she gets there she is TERRIFIED of the man 🎅

a family trip to the mall to see santa!! fem!reader 5k words

"I'm gonna tell Santa about my new mom, and my new house, and my new bed, and my new-"

"Babe, you're supposed to ask him for things you want, not tell him about stuff you already have."

Roan reaches out to stroke Eddie's face absent-mindedly. He loves how loving she is, and by extension, loves that he's made her this way.

"But I didn't have a mom or a house or a bed last year."

He snorts, fingers wrapped up in the ribbon laces on her shiny black shoes. "You actually did have a bed, and a house."

"A real house, dad."

"It was a real house," he argues with little heat, straightening up her socks where they've started slipping down, fingertips pressed into her soft skin. "It was a home, anyway. You know, me and Uncle Wayne lived together in his trailer for more than ten years and it was amazing."

It had been cramped, crowded, and it had been a stuffy hell in the summer, but it was just fine. It was more than that.

He leans back and takes in Roan again. He's dressed her in a navy blue dress with the lining of a white skirt peeking out underneath. She has a cardigan over the top to fight the cold, and he'll wrap her up in her big puffy coat for good measure as soon as he's done her hair. She looks adorable, adorable and well-kept

He feels the familiar rush of parent pride. Fuck, I'm a good dad.

"And we had fun, didn't we? In our trailer?" he asks her, chucking under her chin.

She grins at him, a mouthful of tiny white pearls. "Duh, dad. We had the best times ever, with Rufus and Georgia and Steve."

He smiles himself, reminded of the stray cats that had flocked to their home and their names. Steve had been an especially dishevelled calico, and his name had been a great point of contention between the Munson's and human Steve.

"You know, we could always go visit them," he offers, pleased at the twinkle that grows in Roan's eyes.

"We could?" she asks, gasping.

"Sure, babe. I bet they miss us, and it's cold. We'll make them some fried chicken when we have time, yeah? You and me'll be the talk of the cat town."

"And Y/N," Roan says insistently.

He strokes her cheek with his thumb. "And Y/N," he says as he stands up. "Now, little lady. Bunches or braids?"

By the time he's weaved her hair back into one impressive braid you're finally getting home from the doctor. A completely routine check up and still he's terrified for a split second that you're gonna come in and declare a problem. You simply pose in the doorway and smile.

"Nothing wrong with me that wasn't wrong before," you say breezily. "Hello, my loves. Did anything happen while I was gone?"

Roan scrambles to stand on the kitchen chair and pose as you're posing. Your expression drops, as does your jaw, and you take a while to pick it back up.

"Aw, princess, would you look at you? You look beautiful."

She giggles as you swoop in to kiss her. You take her face into two delicate palms and stroke curly baby hairs behind her ears. A year ago, even a couple of months ago, you would've asked before you kissed her. Now, you pucker up wordlessly, and Roan bears her cheek like she can't wait. If her excited shifting from one foot to the other is anything to go by, she can't.

"You look so, so pretty," you praise, pulling away to wipe at the splodge of lip balm you've left shining on her baby cheek.

"You look more pretty," Roan says.

Eddie adores you both in ways he can't articulate.

His unspoken affection summons your attention. You let your hands fall to her shoulders and meet his eyes over her head. For a moment you smile abashedly, the awkward amazing smile you'd been wearing when you first met. It eases into something easier, something Eddie isn't ashamed to admit he loves more. This one practically oozes love.

"Do you want to get changed?" you ask.

He pretends like you've slapped him. "What do you mean? This isn't mall-worthy?"

"Your work overalls and my apron?" you ask wryly. "Sure, wear that."

He tries not to smile but he's practically sticky with it, kissing your cheek and patting Roan's back in tandem before he escapes upstairs to change. He puts on a pair of tight black slacks and a dark navy button down to match Roan, rolling the sleeves up in the way he knows you love.

There's Christmas music and giggling downstairs when he returns. Roan's now standing on the table of all places, her hands in your hands, the two of you dancing quite aggressively considering it's Jingle Bell Rock. You start to swing her around, pulling her into your chest so you can waltz in time with the music.

You swing to face the doorway and cheer when you see him. "Dad!" you direct Roan's attention. "That's your nicest button down. Is that the one you wore when you proposed?"

He smiles at the memory but quickly hides it, peering down at his shirt as if it's the most boring item of clothing Walmart's ever made. "This old thing?" He lets the dramatics fall. "No, not this one. I might be wearing the same socks, though, if you wanna check?"

You dip your face down to Roan's and rub the bridges of your noses together. "No thanks," you say, slipping into some bubbly mom talk. "He thinks I wanna look at his socks, did you hear? What a weirdo."

"Weirdo," she echoes.

"Wretched women," he mumbles, heading for the shoe rack. He shoves on a pair of boots and raises his volume. "Come on, sweet girls, time to go see Santa!"

"Santa!"

Roan squirms out of your arms and onto the floor. She sprints for the front door and grabs clumsily at the handle, slightly too short to reach and pull down with any force. Eddie takes her coat down from the hanger and bunches up the sleeves to get her hands through. One arm then two, she makes it difficult work but it's something he's become an expert in. Wayne once said he reckoned Eddie could get an octopus into a straight jacket.

"Babe, move out the way," he says.

Roan steps back enough for him to crack the door and then bursts into the cold. She seems less enthusiastic when the ice bites at her naked knees, looking to Eddie for reassurance.

He hands you the keys and you take them automatically. "I'm gonna get her into the car before she turns into a popsicle."

Realisation dawns on your face. "I dont have my purse. Be right there," you say, spinning back into the house.

He catches up to Roan where she's waiting by your car. She has a car seat in your car and his, but yours is the one at the front of the driveway. She looks tiny next to it, smaller when she starts shivering. It's a sub level Christmas in Hawkins.

"Alright, Ro, in you go," he says, opening door. He covers the top of the doorway with his hand so she can't knock herself out and straps her in once she's situated.

"It's cold," she says through chattering teeth.

"I'm sorry, your wool stockings were in the wash, babe." He covers her frost-bitten cheeks, blood pinking her skin. "We might need to get you some pants at the mall, so you don't fr-fr-freeze to death," he says, imitating her shivering.

She giggles infectiously. "You're funny."

He presses a kiss to her head. "All legs in the ride!" he warns.

"Don't cut her legs off," you call from the front door.

"Never. Am I driving?" he asks, closing Roan's door. He succeeds in not mauling her.

"Do you want to?"

"Get in the car."

"Yes, ma'am," he purrs, escaping around to the passenger side and away from your clutches.

The drive consists of Eddie messing with your deteriorating stereo system and Roan's ecstatic babbling. She's back onto what she wants to tell Santa. New mom, new house, new bed, new princess dresses, new kitchen, new pet fish. The list goes on. Though they aren't as new as she thinks; you, Eddie and Roan have been living together now for a couple of months, and you and Eddie have been engaged for almost as long. The novelty has yet to wear off for Roan. Eddie hopes his daughter will be this amazingly happy for the rest of her life.

"You think it's gonna break?" you ask, watching the stereo with all the caution of a lion tamer.

"God, I hope so. I'll know what to get you for Christmas, then."

It's a bluff — Eddie's already got you a bunch of gifts, some of which you're pretending you don't know about, and some he's actually managed to hide well.

"You won't believe what I got for-" You cough. "Uh, Lucky."

He laughs, checking over his shoulder to see if Roan's listening. She absolutely isn't, feet wiggling along to the static riddled kiddie songs and Teddy the one eared bear in her lap. "I'm gonna tell him you need a new ear, Teddy, don't worry," she says, tone conspiring.

He winces like she's listening. "Yeah, what was it? A new plant?"

"Yeah," you mumble. You're a bad liar. "New plant. It's pink and gold and it's made out of velvet silk," — you lower your voice to a whisper — "with handmade skirts and hand sewn sequins."

His eyes go wide. "I thought we said no more presents for Lucky."

"Did we say that?"

"Well, I said that. Starting to think you weren't listening." He pinches your thigh, quick and nipping to get you squealing.

"I listened," you insist through laughter, facing him with a bright, bright smile. You keep your eyes on the road. "I just didn't comply."

"I'm not above force."

You gasp, delighted. "You dog! My little girl's in the car."

"My little girl isn't listening."

"Yes I am."

You snort so loud it probably hurts your throat.

Eddie whips his head to Roan and her cheeky smile. "I know what we should- what we should get Lucky for Christmas," she says knowingly.

"What's that, princess?" you ask, watching her through the rearview. Each word drips with love.

"A girlfriend," she says.

"Yeah? We'd need to get him a bigger tank, too-"

"So that's not happening," Eddie says.

He hates being the voice of reason, on record despises it, but you love Roan so much, you're fucking whipped, you'd pull Mount Fuji from the Earth and put it behind Bradley's if she asked you to, so while he loves nonsense and participating in it, he has to say no. You can't afford a new fish tank now you've paid for the honeymoon vacation and the wedding venue deposit and Christmas.

Or rather, Eddie can't afford it. He works on principle. Your money is your money. His money is your money. You argue that your money is a hundred percent his money too and he fights you on it all the time, even though you're technically the breadwinner. He's not too proud to let you pay more rent, more toward groceries, more everything. Now. It had been a little bit of a sore spot at first.

He'd reasoned that he should be paying more in reality because of Roan and you'd glared at him half-seriously and said, Don't insult me, handsome. You know I love her.

You more than love her, and if you want to spend every last penny of your paycheck on Christmas this month he won't fight you on it.

Besides that, he can't take any extra hours because he has to pick up Roan. You love that argument because it supports your conclusion, among others — Eddie does the majority of the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning. But, those arguments should be moot. You definitely carry your weight, plus, he loves to do stuff for you. Should be, but you do that stupid fucking thing that you do wherein your hands are all over his face and your voice is soft as silk in his ear, and you kiss under his jaw and win any and every argument in a pathetically small amount of time. He'd die for you. You're a cheater.

"Spoilsport," you mumble, pulling into the parking lot outside the mall with a bumpy turn.

"Lucky needs a girlfriend fish, dad, or he'll get so lonely he'll die."

Eddie blows hair out of his face and zips up his jacket, opening your door with a mostly respectful kick. He rushes to get Roan out before you can, knowing you'll carry her all the way inside and give yourself achey shoulders.

"Why do you say that?" Eddie asks as he opens her door. Roan looks up all smiles, Teddy clutched to her neck. "Why do you think he'll die? Lonely people don't die, babe."

"Are you sure?"

He unclips her straps and pulls her out deftly. He'd let her walk herself but the cold is biting and he can carry her much quicker. "I'm positive."

Her face crinkles up. He likely shouldn't have mentioned death, she's too small, but Roan has a strange understanding of all things macabre. Santa's more real to her than death, for sure.

"Maybe I can ast Santa for a big tank for Lucky and then he can have a girlfriend and a baby."

The dropped 'k' on ask makes Eddie stupidly emotional. A habit she's falling out of from when she was younger.

You start pushing him behind the shoulders. "Let's go," you whine, "before we all get hypothermia."

He makes sure there's room in the crook of his arm for your hand while making his way toward the mall sliding doors. You fall into step beside him.

Eddie begins stranger prep.

"You gotta be polite to Santa, remember? Because he sees all these little girls and boys and he's tired from the Christmas rush, and he's taking the time to come see you."

Roan nods seriously. "My pleases and thank you, dad, I always remember," she says.

"Yes, you do," you praise, though she does not.

"Do you think he can get Lucky a girlfriend?" Roan asks you.

More terrible smiles. "Yes, he definitely can. What kind of girlfriend? A goldfish, too? They have black goldfish in the Petsmart with big heads like raspberries- oh, we should go see them after we talk to Santa!"

Roan's nodding grows more and more voracious. "Can we, dad?" she asks.

"Why're you askin' me? Y/N already said you could."

You almost trip over yourself trying to kiss his cheek. He knows you love him. He suspects you love being a parent more. He's rubbed your back through enough 'I'm so lucky' breakdowns to know you're genuinely in love with his little girl.

Inside the warmth of the mall entryway, Eddie sets Roan on her feet. She holds both hands up. He takes one, you take the other, and she rambles about Lucky's potential lover as you both lead her to the entrance of the food court where the mall Santa's grotto has been set up this year.

The walls and railings are decorated in spiraling lights and tinsel, store windows teeming with festive merchandise. Kids are everywhere, none as pretty or well-dressed as Roan (in Eddie's totally unbiased opinion), but all looking startled by the intensity of everything. Roan herself baulks.

"It's bright, huh?" Eddie asks her knowingly.

"All the lights," she says.

"Yeah, babe, a lot of lights. There's a really big Christmas tree further in, too, we came here last year to see it."

She shrugs. Eddie's unsure, but he thinks maybe she's drifted a little closer to his legs.

The grotto comes into view and she perks up. "Oh," she says sweetly, breathless with her eyes wide, dark eyes shining in the fairy lights.

"There he is," Eddie encourages, "and some elves, too. We line up, uh-"

"Over there," you say, tugging him and Roan with you like the three of you are a slinky.

Roan bounces on her tiptoes from the end of the line to the very beginning. You and Eddie can't stop sharing secret smiles. He loves doing this every year, and last year he'd done most of it alone. Wayne hates shopping malls and you hadn't been dating quite long enough for him to feel comfortable asking you to do parent stuff at the time. The difference a year can make — it aches in the best way.

"After Santa and the pet store, what's our plan? D'you wanna get pizza? Or something else, we could go to Enzo's?" he asks.

"Enzo's?"

"I'll pay."

"Last time you had a weird stomach for three whole days after. I thought we'd never see you again."

"You love it, though. I'll buy some tums. Take a cushion into the bathroom."

"Ew, no," you say, sounding less disgusted than you could be.

You're both keeping an eye on the line. There's only one kid in front of you now, and Roan is pulling on your arms ready to pounce.

"Chinese?"

"What does macaroanie want?"

"She gets everything she wants all the time. Would it kill you to choose?"

You think it over. "Definitely. Why don't you choose?"

"'Cause I want you to, that's the whole point. You know, it's okay to do things that you want to do."

"I want to make you pick. You can pay, too, if we're going to the pet store. Santa needs a donation, and I'm gonna be strapped for cash."

He mirrors your sweet smile. "Deal."

"Next, please," says a very average sized elf.

You and Eddie steal another look and you drop Roan's little hand to let Eddie walk her up to Santa. She'd loved him last year, asking for a bunch of things Eddie hadn't been able to deliver on. He'd tried his best, had done a bunch of freelance guitar repairs that he wasn't educated for (but isn't half bad at), had scraped and scrimped, he'd even borrowed money from Wayne that Wayne refused to take back the following February when Eddie finally made it up, and he still hadn't been able to get 'princess sheets' or the new Dotty Dolly.

They approach Santa. Roan takes one step, then the other. Santa says hello.

Roan pauses.

"C'mere, hon," Santa says, an older gentleman with a natural white beard. He's a very convincing Santa, all things considered. "Tell old Chris Kringle what you want for Christmas."

Eddie pushes her forward very gently with his fingertips. "Go on, babe, it's okay. You wanted to tell him about your mom and the house and Lucky the fish, right?"

Roan takes the last step. Then, frozen in the face, she backs up, nearly trips, and bolts down into Eddie's legs. She practically flies down the stairs with a freaked out moan.

His eyes blow. He looks at Roan, looks at Santa. "I'm sorry," Eddie says, smiling at the old man awkwardly.

The elves do not look happy.

Eddie bends down. "Roanie," he says urgently, "what's the matter? You don't wanna talk to Santa?"

She says nothing, only clings. Eddie tries to steer her shoulder back to Santa on his big velvet chair and she's having none of it, whining and shoving her head into his thigh.

"Excuse me-" starts the elf.

"Roan, are you sure you don't wanna talk to him? He's Santa, he wants to hear all about your list this year," Eddie tries.

"No."

He sighs, perturbed but not too worried. They can always try again. He says sorry to the elves and to Santa who waves his hand, as if to say it doesn't matter. He gets his hands under Roan's arms and carries her to where you're standing on the other side. You look heartbroken.

"What happened?" you ask softly, stroking a sweet curl behind her ear.

Eddie has no answers and Roan doesn't want to give them, so you make your way to the food court in a shocked silence. Roan has a tendency to deal with negatives in two ways — tantrums for the superficial, withdrawal for the serious. Eddie still isn't good at dealing with the latter. Together, you can usually save the day.

"Roan, bug," Eddie says, so only she can hear, "tell me what happened. You didn't like Santa, huh?"

"Dad," she says, almost inaudible.

He slides a hand behind her neck and tips her away from his chest. "What?"

"He didn't look how I remembered."

"'Cause you're older," he says.

He's employed his nicest, smoothest dad voice. The gentle one for all her scariest moments, like shots at the doctor's office and the time she wet herself in the playground in front of the other kids. Anything to assuage her embarrassment, a safety blanket.

He slides into a booth and you hover.

"Would something yummy make it feel better?" you ask hopefully.

Roan shakes her head into Eddie's neck.

"I-" You look super crushed. Everything had been going well. He knows how badly you want Christmas to be perfect.

"How about," Eddie cuts you off, not unkindly, "you and me and mom get warm donut holes and ice cream to dip them in? We've never had then with her, have we?"

It's a good Christmas tradition.

Roan can't resist. "Okay," she says.

"I'll get them," you volunteer. "I got it."

Something hooks you as you're trying to leave and you double back to kiss the top of her head and Eddie's temple in quick succession. He smiles at you genuinely, happy when your frown livens up. Roan will be okay in a little while, no doubt. No need for you to tear yourself up over it.

Alone, Eddie eases Roan off of his lap and onto the bench beside him. He takes her little hands into his. She looks nearly angry, dark eyebrows pinched up and her eyes welled with tears.

"It's okay that you didn't like Santa," he murmurs.

"I wanted to tell him about Y/N," she says, lower lip trembling.

"We can always go and see him again."

She stiffens.

"Or we can try a different day, yeah? C'mon, where's my brave girl gone?"

"He smiled funny…" she mumbles.

He feels awful instantly. He doesn't need Roan to be brave if she can't be.

"Well, if you want," he says, inclining his head, "you could tell me what you want for Christmas, I could tell Santa."

She looks up. "You'll tell Santa?"

"Oh, yeah," he says quickly. "I tell Santa all the stuff you forget. How'd you think you got your space hopper last year? And your princess slippers? I tell him all the things you want."

"He still didn't get me Dotty Dolly."

"He's old, babe. He's all senile, like Wayne." Sorry Wayne.

Her face flops into his upper arm, chubby cheek squished to the mild curve of his bicep. She lets out a morose sigh. "Sorry, dad."

He nudges her gently. "For what?"

"Being not brave."

He presses his forehead to her hair. "I didn't mean that. You don't have to be brave meeting new people. It's scary, even if you met them before. Like Y/N," he says, nuzzling Roan's silky hair affectionately, "I don't know if you remember, you were always excited to see her, and I used to think I was excited too. Then we'd get to Morgan's cake shop and I'd make us late because I was hiding in the car. She used to make me nervous, and now she's your mommy."

He wraps his arm around her shoulders. "Sometimes we need time to get to know people before we're ready to talk to them. It's okay that you got scared, babybug, promise."

She goes limp. Her cheek slides down the length of his stomach and lands on his thigh. "I really wanted Lucky to have a girlfriend."

He pets her hair, accomplished in his dad duties. (He hopes. Tonight he'll go over this conversation with you and wonder if he should've said something else.)

"Lucky can definitely still have a girlfriend. What did I just say? I'll make sure Santa knows exactly what you want, no sweat."

She huffs another huge sigh that must take up her entire lung capacity. He tickles the back of her neck with the end of her braid slowly, drawing circles around her ear and her earlobe until her shoulders are heaving.

"You're laughing," he accuses.

"No I'm not," she says into his leg.

"No?" He lets her hair go in favour of scratching her neck. "We can change that."

You return with way too much ice cream and twice as many donuts to find her squealing and cornered in the booth, curled up into a ball like a pill bug to evade Eddie's cruel hands.

"What are you doing to her?" you demand.

"I'm cuddling her. What's it look like to you, mister?"

"Mister? You sick freak."

"You're the sick freak, freak. Sit down and give my girl one of those donut holes before she keels over."

"She's already keeled! Get offa her, the ice cream's melting on my hands."

He stops tickling Roan and she finds the strength to sit. You're ecstatic to see her happy again and you show it with a grand proferring of sweet treats and three plastic spoons. You've bought a whole lotta donuts and an ice cream boat with chocolate fudge and cherries, and you let her maul it without complaint. It's a good time, a great one, to watch Roan teach you how to dip the still-warm donuts in your ice cream, and to watch the two of you try to eat them without getting powdered sugar and chocolate all over your fancy clothes.

He ties the cherry stem with his tongue and mystifies Roan, who spends the next ten minutes trying to do the same. He feels so sorry for her that when she sticks her little tongue out with an untied stem for the tenth time, he meets your eyes and nods and the two of you cheer like crazy.

He hadn't brought his bag, a rookie mistake, so he nabs some napkins from the condiments table and gives Roan the good old spit and polish.

Clean-ish, he takes her hand and she stands on the bench, hopping off and landing with Munson grace (her knees give out). You take the long way around the grotto so she won't have to see Santa again and come across the mall's huge Christmas tree.

"Woah," she gasps, enthralled.

Eddie really should've brought the camera, even if he only has two pieces of film left. He wants to remember this forever, her face still soft with baby fat reflected back from a giant golden bauble, tinsel bouncing light all over her skin like a mirrorball. You bend down beside her and grin.

"Eddie, look at it from down here."

He suspends his disbelief and kneels down.

From the floor, the tree looks bigger than any skyscraper, and it shines like a star. If you follow the tree all the way to its angel at the top, you can look past it into the skylight, where the dark night shines with pinprick stars.

"Our Christmas tree doesn't look this good," you say.

"Yes it does!" Roan says, turning to you with a stern scowl. "Our Christmas tree is the best one they ever made."

"Yeah?"

"Mm. And I got to put the star on."

"Yeah, you did." You rest your hands on her shoulders and the two of you look up together.

I need a fucking camera, Eddie thinks hotly.

—

Petsmart is like an aquarium at 6PM. The lights have been lowered, the fish tanks glowing bright blue and bubbling in the dim light. A hundred white and red babies swim erratically, their fins a blur in the top tank. Underneath, there are tanks filled with algae-eating snails that move surprisingly quickly. To the left, the big black goldfish with puffy cheeks lavish in their more spacious tank.

"Where's the ones with the raspberry head?" Roan whispers.

Your eyes follow a beautiful red goldfish the size of three fingers. "I don't know, little lady," you mumble, entranced by the goldfish's graceful arc.

"Do you think Lucky would have a crush on him?"

You look to where she's pointing at, little finger chasing a telescope fish.

"I think he'd love him. He's a big one."

"I thought Lucky wanted a girlfriend?" Eddie asks.

"But all these ones are boys, dad."

He frowns, endearingly confused. "How can you tell?"

"I just know."

You love the way she says it, love every little word she says. She sounds confident in her declaration but the way she pronounces her words harbours the clumsiness that comes with being a young kid, 'know' carrying a lot of weight, of humour, like she can't believe Eddie would say something that silly.

"What about that one? She looks kinda girly, no?"

The three of you watch the fish in question complete a small loopty-loop.

"Nah," you say, "that's definitely a boy. He has abs."

"They're called gills."

"Do they have any pink fish?" Roan asks.

"Maybe not. They have pink plants. Hey, I saw the ornaments on the way in, they have a castle. Think Lucky would like that?"

If Petsmart didn't close at 6.30 you could stay and watch the fish tanks with them forever. You hop along to the ornaments and try to catalogue all the ones Roan expresses an interest in. Buying them won't count as spoiling her, it'll be spoiling Lucky. Eddie can't possibly be irked over that.

"Don't even think about it," he mouths.

You remember Roan's unhappy face when she was confronted with the horror of the mall Santa up close and decide she can't leave empty handed.

"Why don't we get him something now? You can put it in his tank tonight before bed."

"Really?" Roan asks.

"Go crazy."

Roan hesitates, spoiled for choice, hands feeling over the ornaments one at a time. Eddie tells her she can't pick anything from the tip shelf and you're glad for it, because it is Christmas coming and they're extortionate hand crafted things you cannot afford.

"This one," she says.

She picks up a heavy looking Christmas tree glued to a white plate, multi-coloured presents nestled at the trunk. It's a glorious twelve dollars.

You let Roan carry the bag out of the Petsmart. She turns to Eddie and says, "Please make sure Santa gets Lucky a girlfriend like the one with the big eyes. And please tell him that I have the best new mommy and the bed and the new house, please."

He beams at her. "We can strike those off the list, for sure. What do you want now you got all the stuff you asked for last year?"

"Pink hair."

Eddie whistles through his teeth appreciatively. "Gnarly."

"And a bounce house," she adds.

He shakes his head at you before you can ask.

#eddie and roan #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader blurb #eddie munson x fem!reader #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #christmas centric

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crisiscutie · 18 days

Note

Wowww!!! I absolutely loved your latest post! I was just wondering if you could write rebirth Sephiroth cucking Rufus with the darling in front of him? Showing him that she belongs to only Sephiroth now. I'm living for the new beef between those two. 🤭

Thanks for the feedback anon! And yes, I love it too! I always loved the idea of a Yandere stealing their darling away from their love rival, and especially claiming them right in front of said rival... Bonus points for this position 😏

pairing: 🐍7R Sephiroth/Older Sister Darling 🐇

(With some Rufus/Darling)

Beach fic here.

Content warning: NSFW. Yandere Sephiroth. Curvy Darling. Dubcon/Noncon. Emotional Abuse.

The snake's playtime with his bunny prey was finally over.

Sephiroth held your thick, jiggling thighs upwards, your back pressing against his torso. Your tight, stretchy asshole seemed to accommodate his cock well enough.

With each powerful thrust from Sephiroth, your meaty pussy lips moved, granting the shocked new president a lovely view of your wet, pink depths.

Rufus wanted to ignore your welcoming cunt, but his eyes couldn't tear away from it. The bulge in his pants grew stiff, making this experience even more uncomfortable for him.

Your cunt was gaping from the monstrous spawn you had birthed earlier. Sure, it was rather intense, but you'd do it all again for your sweet little brother.

Sephiroth's slit eyes and cold sneer stayed on Rufus, even as he "spoke" to you softly...

"I've won. I've won in every way." He chuckled and pressed his lips against your ear. "You're mine. You're mine for life. And you can't resist me. You'll always come to me, won't you?"

Waves of pleasure washed over your body as blood rushed to your twitching clit. Your resistant, pouty lips trembled against his dominant will until the end, finally curving into a euphoric and gentle smile.

"...Y-yes! I belong to my sweet little brother! I love you, Sephy~!" Your lovesick eyes rolled back as his cock in your tight asshole found your weak spot, making your neglected cunt even more wet.

No one will understand the immense difficulty he faced in restraining his own euphoria. It was a testament to his hard work, a long and tedious journey of breaking your mind, rewiring it, and training it from the ground up.

His mission to have full ownership over you, his precious big sister, and eventually his wife, had been achieved. Mother was so proud of him...

It's even more cathartic that you did this all in front of his love rival, who somehow thought he had a chance with you.

Sephiroth stopped thrusting for a moment, his pupils dilating. "And I... love you, my darling sister. My darling wife." His words held a double meaning, one filled with twisted love for you, while the other a cruel taunt directed at Rufus.

He continued fucking you, going faster now.

Rufus clenched his fist as his other hand rested on the trigger finger of his rifle. Never before had he been so tempted to reduce someone to paste. But he didn't want to hurt you, like he constantly did in the past.

Lying to you about his involvement with AVALANCHE to stage a rebellion against Shinra. Sticking to his plan to rule the world with an iron fist. And he had the audacity to state that he owned you because you were SOLDIER!? And called you out for working AVALANCHE when he did the same thing!? The hypocrite.

He was just a lonely rich kid, thinking he was the chosen one to rule the planet while living in his father's shadow.

"We'll be together forever, won't we, Sephy?" you gasped, nearing your crescendo.

"Of course... We'll be together. Forever." he replied. His gaze returned to Rufus, his sneer growing even more wicked.

You squirted your cunt juices all over Rufus' desk when Sephiroth came into your tight hole, filling your guts to the brim.

Out of the two sweet boys you grew up with, the right one for you had never been so clear...

Maybe I will do more? 👀

#sephiroth #ff7 sephiroth #final fantasy 7 #crisis cutie #sephiroth x reader #yandere sephiroth #final fantasy x reader #ff7 #rufus shinra x reader #tw: mind control #yandere smut #smut #female reader #reader insert #x reader #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

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jasmines-library · 7 months

Note

hi :) can you write sam x reader where she lives with boys and while dean is in hell she and sam are alone together, and she is like the only person who can calm him down

Just a little complication

Summary: The request pretty much says it all. Hurt/comfort with a fluffy ending!

Warnings: Dean's death in s3, grief, guilt.

Word count: 1.2k

Note: Hey anon! I loved this request, thank you so much for asking for it. I'm so sorry that it took this long for me to get to it, but I hope you enjoy.

⛤ MASTERLIST ⛤

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Dean Winchester was dead. There was no gentle way to say it really, not after you saw the way he was torn to shreds by the Hellhounds. His blank gaze would haunt your mind for a while, burnt permanently into your mind. It was no easy situation to understand, and the suddenness of the situation snatched away so much from you so quickly that it was disorientating. To lose a friend like that was like losing a part of yourself; it left you feeling incomplete. A fragment of who you were before. But it was a different story for Sam.

Sam was racked with grief. At first, he didn’t leave Bobby’s for days. He just locked himself away in his room, with his curtains drawn in his own artificial night, withdrawn into his own mind. The bags beneath his eyes were heavy and cumbersome and the pile of half-touched plates that had piled up in his room had reached a staggering number. But what was worse was the guilt that gnawed at his stomach. It clawed away at him and no matter how many times you or Bobby tried to reassure him that this wasn’t his fault, he refused to believe it.

Eventually as time moved and the days began to get longer and the flowers bloomed, Sam seemed to be getting better. He began to talk to you more, and returned slightly towards his old self. He was still struggling though, despite how much he tried to hide it. You could see the pain in his eyes that lacked the usual sparkle they had. He had also developed the habit of picking at his skin, or biting around his nails as he thought anxiously.

He was chewing at his thumbnail when you noticed something was particularly off. He was restless, constantly shifting his position on the couch or bouncing his leg up and down. Bobby was out of town, following up on a lead with Rufus, leaving you alone with Sam. You had planned to sit beside him and rest your head on his shoulder, but instead you noticed his distress.

“Sammy”? You furrowed your brow, watching him hesitantly.

He kept his gaze down, not daring to meet your gaze because he knew that the moment he looked up at your pity-riddled gaze, all those thoughts would come bubbling over and he wouldn’t be able to stop the river of tears that threatened to fall.

At his lack of response, you sat yourself beside him, moving one of Bobby’s couch pillows out of the way so that you could give him a little bit of space that you sensed he needed. You placed a hand gently on his leg, smoothing the denim of his jeans under your thumb.

“Sam?” You asked again gently, tilting your head towards him. “Talk to me.”

“I- I’m sorry.” He stuttered, standing up abruptly and beginning to walk off. “I can’t.”

His voice wavered as he turned briskly half walking, half running towards one of Bobby’s many alcoves. You followed closely behind him, not missing the way that his breathing got faster and faster, heaving in rugged and uneven rasps that were sure to hurt his lungs, but he seemingly didn’t care as he made his way through the house, weaving between the empty beer bottles and discarded books that no one had bothered to clean up. The way his hands shook made your heart clench as his body trembled. You called after him, trying to grasp his attention. When they finally broke through his hazy mind, he turned and you saw his tear stained cheeks and they way that the droplets had streamed down his face and beaded at his chin before splattering onto his shirt.

Your face softened. “Oh Sam…”

“It’s my fault.” He choked out through sobs. “If I- He did it for me. Because I wasn’t strong enough to finish him off. If I had just done it then I wouldn’t have died and then he wouldn’t be-”

“Sam. It’s not your fault. No one can stop Dean.”

Sam took a wavering breath, clenching and unclenching his fists, before turning away and swiping the contents of the desk to the floor, some things bounced and rolled across the floor, others shattered or landed with a heavy thud, but neither of you paid much notice as Sam continued to spiral.

“This is so stupid!” He said. “So stupid-”

He raised his hands again, but you took his wrists in his and held them still. Almost immediately at your touch he calmed down. His body still trembled as he cried silently. Your hand found itself wiping away the tears from his eyes as you hushed him.

“It’s okay Sammy, you’re okay. Deep breaths.”

You inhaled deeply, pulling the air into your lungs before releasing it again. With his hands in yours, he tried to follow the rhythm of your calmness until eventually it slowed to nearly normal pace.

“Good.” You smiled at him reassuringly. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

“I’m sorry…” He whispered as you sat him down on the plush chair in Bobby’s office.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I just - I miss him. So much…”

Your heart broke and he pulled you close to him. “I know you do, Sammy. I know. But its gonna be okay. We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

He sniffled and nodded soundly.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening snuggled up on the couch together, with you laid out across his chest. He clung to you desperately as the sun cast a golden hue over the window before dipping below the horizon to be replaced by the moon. The pair of you didn’t move for hours as you scrolled endlessly through TV channels and crappy movies that Sam secretly loved no matter how much he tried to hide the little smile that snuck up on him. It was something that he had needed desperately. Not so much a distraction, but a reminder that you were there for him and that things would be okay, eventually. Even if they took a little bit of working out like things do.

When Bobby bustled through the door, rifle slung over his shoulder, the house was silent and dark save for the Tv which was flickering with life. As he rounded the corner, he melted at the two of you wrapped up within each other's embrace. He was glad to see the way that Sam relaxed around you. It was then that he saw the mess of his house and after frowning, he just shook his head and laughed soundly with a sigh.

“Idjits.”

#supernatural #spn #supernatural x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester #spn x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #guilt

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wearywinchester · 2 years

Text

Restless

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When a nightmare of that days hunt plagues you over and over, it’s next to impossible to hide your distress from the older Winchester.

Warnings: angst, nightmares, blood, injury, swearing, fluff, kissing

Again. Again for what felt like the fiftieth time in the last half our did you wake up. Realistically, more time has passed than a mere thirty minutes but it didn’t matter, not when you woke up short of breath, the sound of your gasp in contrast to the silence of the room having added to your already persistent fear.

Your heart was racing a mile a minute as your whole body jerked, moving to prop yourself up on your elbows as the shirt you wore clung to your back from the same sheen of sweat that sat in your face. The breeze from the open window helped, it cooled you, but the heat still flooded in your cheeks temporarily from the burst of adrenaline you felt upon waking from another nightmare.

Maybe another wasn’t the right word, not quite, because that’d imply that the narrative changes every time and it doesn’t. It’s the same scenario, the same script, the same turn of events. It’s all the same and it comes to haunt you each and every time you close your eyes.

The bed was empty, the room was empty—it was just you and the gusts of wind drawing your eyes to the window in half fear that that damn monster was going to come in and grab you.

It was irrational, you were almost one hundred percent sure, because that thing was dead and gone but your mind refused to believe it to be true. That much was sure as you looked at the window, at the curtains pushing towards you from the breeze blowing in. As you looked at the trees beyond the window that were swaying just like the ones back at the place that was haunting you every time you closed your eyes for more than a second or two.

You sat there, unsure of yourself until you finally were. You pushed back the covers and pressed your bare feet to the cold hardwood floor, padding over to the window and shutting it, shutting out the potent threat you thought may have been lurking right on the other side.

Your heart rate picked up again, not that it ever really settled, but it wasn’t until you’d gotten up that you really realized how affected you were. You were standing there on wobbly legs as you shook the slightest bit, hands shaking to mirror it. Your lip wasn’t that far behind as the tears continued to press and burn behind your eyes. You were so tired, frustrated even and you couldn’t bring yourself to get an ounce of restful sleep. You knew you wouldn’t be able to.

The urge for a distraction became to great when you found yourself just standing there in the middle of that room, running your hands over your face in hopes of a refresher but finding yourself brushing over the cut on it from earlier today. You were quick to recoil, those tears trying desperately to make an appearance. But you wouldn’t let them.

You left the room empty behind you as you followed the glow of light coming from downstairs, the old floor creaking beneath your feet. Bobby was out with Rufus and Sam was doing who knows what research at this hour because that was Sam. But that’s not who you were looking for, you were looking for a green eyed hunter who’s whereabouts were something you had a good idea of.

He knew it was you, of course he did, he knew the pattern of your footfalls. He could pick it up distinctly even in a room full of a thousand different sets of them. Not only that, but he knew you were distressed, he knew there was something bothering you ever since that hunt was wrapped up and finished with. It wasn’t just that ever so slight frown, or the way you drug your feet from more than just fatigue. It wasn’t any of that that gave it away.

It was the fact that you wouldn’t even look him in the eye. You were quiet as ever, that pretty smile of yours never reaching your lips, hardly even mustering a fake one just to humor him. You weren’t yourself and he noticed before you did.

You tried to be quiet, light on your feet as you walked, hearing the tap of his boot on the floor before you rounded the corner to the little kitchen Bobby had.

He was sitting at the table by the wall, papers scattered amongst the old and scratched wood surface, his laptop propped open with the next article on another case on it.

You didn’t even want to think about another hunt, mainly because you couldn’t, not when you were so beyond stuck on this one without an option to sway your mind to think about something else. You were stuck there, stuck in a loop that terrified you each and every time you thought about that stupid monster and the way it taunted you. You were frozen in that moment and every time you tried to think of something else it pulled you right back to it.

“Y/n?”

You blinked, looking at green eyes when he spoke your name and saw the way his brows were knit together.

“What are you doin’ up?” He asks, curiosity in his tone with a hint of something you couldn’t place.

He knew.

You stood there for a moment, scrambling for the reason that wasn’t untrue, you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the full truth of why you’d wandered down there in search of the older Winchester. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him how safe he made you feel, at least couldn’t in that moment. But you couldn’t stand there all quiet and timid forever, that wasn’t like you.

“Just checking in on you, see what you’re doing,” you shrugged, voice quieter and you looked him in the eyes for the first time since early that afternoon.

He hums quietly after a moment passes, a moment of looking at you carefully, a nod following it as he bites the inside of his cheek softly. He didn’t believe it, not even for a second did he believe it. Yes, you might very well have been checking on him, but he knew that wasn’t it. He knew that wasn’t the only reason, the only thing that had you wandering down there in search of him. He knew you far better than to believe that’d been the sole purpose of why you were standing a mere few feet away from him in the middle of the night when you’d been tired the whole ride back there.

For a minute you thought your answer was solid, fool proof, for a good minute you thought you’d made a steady reason but you knew better. You knew he’d see right through you and it had you shifting on your feet. It had you growing more timid the more he looked at you with that look that spoke a thousand words.

You cleared your throat. “I uh, I should get—”

“You’re bleeding,” Dean interjects, the crease between his brows deepening.

“What?”

The cut on your cheek, that one from the hunt that you rubbed your hands over in your daze upon first waking up. That’s what he was talking about.

“Y/n, look at me,” he says.

You let out a huff, frustration from lack of quality sleep after having been plagued with the same recurring nightmare and the green eyed hunter standing in front of you having brought it out all the more. So you huff, you huff and turn to look at him for the briefest of seconds just to say you did for his sake before you turn away again.

“There, it’s nothing,” you say, a little too defensive for your own good.

“Bathroom. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Dean, I said it’s nothing,” you argue softly, but this insistence was very much there in your voice.

“I wasn’t asking, sweetheart,” he says, he gaze just as unrelenting as yours as you stare at him with narrowed eyes in an attempt to show your displeasure as best you can.

He wasn’t swayed.

That huff of yours comes back, sounding once more in the older Winchester’s direction as you spun on your heel and you could’ve sworn you heard his chuckle behind you, that one he always does when he gets the most stubborn hunter there is to listen to him for just once. Stubborn second only to him.

You stomp back upstairs, quietly at that, seeing as there’s at least two people in Bobby’s house that are able to sleep soundly, and somehow Sam and Bobby always manage to be the ones who are.

You reach the landing, the old hardwood floor creaking under your feet as you round the railing and walk the few steps to the small bathroom on the right. You switched the light on and hopped up on the counter, legs dangling as you exhale a softer sigh, not quite a huff but the same intention sitting behind it as you purse your lips.

It wasn’t very long before you heard those boots thud against those same stairs, creaking along that same pattern and sure enough it’d been five minutes just as he said he’d be. Five minutes before Freckles appeared in the doorway with that look on his face that you hated, you hated it but you knew you loved it all the same.

“Surprised you listened. Thought I’d have to throw you over my shoulder and drag you here myself,” he says, his humor in his words.

“Don’t push it, Winchester,” you say, hearing his chuckle once more.

You watched as he ducked down, opening the old wooden door of the cabinet under the bathroom sink you sat near on the counter. Watched as he swiped that familiar old first aid kit from its rightful spot and set it down next to you.

You were quiet as you watch him open it, dragging his finger along the compartments until he found what he was looking for. You were quiet as you sat there feeling small, because you may have been giving him attitude, your usual playful banter. You may have been flashing him a pretty smile that truly was reserved just for him, but deep down that fear still sat heavy within you. Heavy as you sat before the one that’d give you the shirt off his back and protect you from anything even if it’d meant he’d go down swinging.

You knew that, you knew you were the safest you could possibly be so long as he was around. And you’ve got Sam, you’ve got Bobby, but you’ve got Dean. You knew it but the way that hunt plagued you the second you closed your eyes for more than a few moments, it had your stomach twisting with that fear that maybe, just maybe that monster would come back to get you. That maybe it wasn’t brought to its very last breath by an angry Winchester.

The worry settled down deep within you, worry that Dean never stopped noticing as he kept his eye on you ever since it’d happened. You might not have noticed, but he knows you far better than you’d ever think, and he could tell something was off with a simple half glance, but there’s not a chance he’d let his gaze linger for that short of time. That was impossible.

“Sweetheart, I can’t clean you up if you refuse to look at me,” he says, lighthearted yet concerned all the same.

“Am not,” you say, quiet and almost pitiful.

He knew.

He sighs, soft and borderline frustrated with your stubbornness as he looks at you with pursed lips. He meets your gaze until you watch his eyes flit over to your cheek, his brows creasing together a little deeper.

The crimson color was smudged on your cheek from where you’d swiped it away with the back of your hand in a haphazard attempt to wipe it away and act as if it wasn’t a big deal. Truthfully it wasn’t, not really. It was a scratch and you’ve had far worse, but that didn’t matter to Dean. What mattered was that you even got hurt in the first place.

“Dammit, Y/n,” he says quietly.

“Oh, stop it,” you grumble.

He looks at you with a less than pleased expression, though it was still soft with concern.

His hand is calloused and warm as he brings it up to settle gently on your other cheek, palm cradling your face as his thumb presses to your chin to keep you from turning away from him.

“Hold still,” he says, that familiar concentration on his face as he grabs a peroxide soaked stack of gauze.

“It’s not like you’re giving me stitches, Dean,” you say, moving only slightly just to be redirected by a soft nudge of Dean’s hand.

“Yeah, well, I’ve given you a hell of a lot more than I’ve ever cared to,” he says, “and don’t argue it because you know that’s true.”

Your shoulders slump a bit as you sigh, leaning into his palm a little. He notices, he notices the action right away even if you won’t admit your resignation to comfort or the fact that you’re letting him clean you up. It’s something you always fight him on, something you’re so stubborn in trying to do yourself because weakness is something you don’t like showcasing, and that’s something he knows very well.

You’re quiet for a little bit after that, wincing only slightly when he grazes over the cut along your cheek, the antiseptic stinging enough to make your cheeks flush warm.

You could feel his gaze on you, something you couldn’t meet for more than a brief second or two before you averted your own, feeling the way his thumb brushed along your chin by the hand that remained settled on your cheek. It was a simple act of comfort, gentle and small, sweet in contrast to the gruffness he portrayed for himself.

It wasn’t that big of a deal, not really. You’ve had far worse injuries that you’ve been on the receiving end of on hunts much worse than this one, so the amount of time he’s been taking on it simply proved that he was fussing over you far more than he needed to. If you’d have brought it to his attention he’d have denied it with a grumble or two and pursed lips. Maybe even an eye roll. But you knew just how much this bothered him, even if it didn’t bother you.

What bothered you was the repetitive nightmare that plagued your mind every single time you settled down for even just a minute of sleep. What bothered you was the way it made you tremble and startle from said sleep, only to met with the quiet night of the reality you were in. What bothered you was the way you continued to shake with a pounding heart as you lay awake until you’re tired enough, too tired to keep your eyes open.

He watched you like a hawk, looking for any sign of pain you fought so hard to hide. Watching for any bit of weakness you were determined to keep at bay. The look in your eyes, something on your mind he couldn’t quite figure out, but he knew it was more than just that cut on your cheek. The way your lip jutted out ever so slightly, the smallest of quivers making it tremble under the pressure of whatever was distressing you.

He found himself letting his gaze linger on you, antiseptic soaked gauze still brushing over your skin as his other hand remained cradling your face. It lingered and you didn’t even notice, not the way green eyes took in your every movement, no matter how small. Not the way his brows stayed furrowed in the utmost of concern as he analyzed every single bit of your expressions for even just the smallest hint of what’s bothering you. He knew better than to think you’d tell him if he asked.

All you could think about was the way that hunt had been haunting you, tormenting you, replaying in your mind of how much that damn monster would’ve put you six feet under in a heartbeat had it held you captive for just a minute longer. You were scared out of your mind, heart nearly bursting with fear when you’d found yourself to be quite alone, all by yourself in the middle of the woods with no idea how to even get yourself out of the restraints you found yourself in.

It was horrifying, terrifying, something that had you not so quick to jump on the next hunt Sam will surely stumble across the next morning. You didn’t scare too easily, used to the frights the world of being a hunter will throw at you. You were stronger than that, more fearless, but you couldn’t stop the way it ate away at you and you couldn’t help but let yourself be scared this time.

It made your mind swim with scenario’s that haven’t even happened, with over dramatic what if’s for the next hunt and the one after, and every single one after that until you finally do meet your fate who knows how far into the future. It had you spiraling into this, that, and the next thing until—

“Y/n, hey.”

You heard the concern in his tone, eyed flickering to his to see the way his gaze matched his words. You looked at him, looked with furrowed brows, a softer expression than his own. You felt that sting on your cheek again, now that you were brought back to reality and away from your thoughts.

“Hm?”

Your hum was simple and soft, sounding as though you didn’t just space how for an amount of time you weren’t even sure of at this point and you didn’t really want to know. All you do know is that you’re beyond distracted and a very concerned Dean is giving you those eyes that let you know he’s caught onto the fact that you’re not as fine as you say you are. But that doesn’t mean you won’t try and convince him anyway.

“You with me, sweetheart?” He asks, soft as his words hold a certain caring that was reserved for you.

They were paired with the brush of his fingers along your hairline, delicate and gentle as the run through your hair and down the side of your face until his hand cradles your cheek once more.

He waits for the words that sit on the tip of your tongue, waiting to see if you’d tell him the truth or tell him some half-assed lie that he’d never once believe. He knew it’d be the latter because that’s how you are and there’s no denying it. You’d rather let yourself suffer than look the slightest bit weak and he thinks it’s an absolute load of crap, even if he was the very same way. But he didn’t care about himself, he cared about you, and that was the difference.

“With you,” you say halfheartedly, soft as your tiredness began to coat your words.

But you were distracted, so tired yet so restless all the same and your brief moment of spacing out had given way to that very fact. It didn’t help your cause with the older Winchester and you could kick yourself for letting it show.

You nuzzle into his hand some despite it, the gentle affection something that you seek a little bit more than the desire to keep your distress at bay.

“Y/n.”

The single use of your name was firm and all knowing, something that draws a deep exhale from you and a deeper crease in his brows from him.

“Would you quit looking at me like that?” You say, tilting your head away from his hand and pursing your lips.

“Would you quit acting like there’s nothing wrong?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as your brows knit together all the more tightly, watching the way his gaze is relentless as he stares at you. He knew you weren’t yourself, and he knew it was more than just being sleepy, he knew you like the back of his hand. You’re his sweetheart after all, you can’t pull a fast one on him.

“De,” you say, soft and on the cusp of breaking your facade. “Nothing’s wrong.”

You knew better than to think he’d believe that. It was foolish to think he’d take that answer as any bit of being serious.

A short huff blows past his lips as the second round of lies you’d so boldly told him, one’s that don’t even remotely sound real because he knows better. He always knows better because he’s Dean Winchester and he’s known absolutely everything about you down to the very reason you so much as scrunch your nose. You do it when you’re trying not to cry, and when you’re lying.

So he exhales that huff, tossing the dirtied gauze in the small plastic trash can beside the bathroom counter. You knew what that meant, that heavy breath of exasperation and frustration woven around the simple action. When it was paired with that look he’s giving you, the one with the creased brows just ever so slightly, and the pursed lips as he looks at you with all the concern in the world yet anger all the same. Not with you, but your stubbornness.

“Y/n,” he says, stern but still soft.

“Dean,” you say, effectively quieting him. There was a few passing moments if quiet after that, of him giving you that look and you giving one right back. “‘S late, I’m gonna head to bed.”

You see the way his jaw clenched, tense as he looks down momentarily, attention pulled back to you when you hopped off the counter. He softens a bit when you lean up and kiss his cheek, softens just enough to let you pass by him to slip out the door. He always calms down when you do that even though he really shouldn’t because he knows you, he knows you’re not yourself right now.

But you left him to mope angrily in the bathroom as he cleaned up the small mess he made, tucking the first aid kit back where it belongs while you make your way back to that small bedroom sleepily.

You were tired, beyond tired after the day you had, after the night you had and it was only the beginning of it. You’ve got hours left to deal with more torment the second you close your eyes and you can only hope that it won’t be so bad the next time you do. You can only hope it’ll be a fraction more restful than the last few bouts otherwise you may just breakdown completely. You’d already gone and scratched that wound open on your face from your thrashing.

The moment you saw that bed again, disheveled and slept in just as you’d left it, it brought on a yawn. It made your eyes water, eyelids growing heavier now that the lighting of the bathroom wasn’t there to keep them open. It looked inviting, so inviting, especially with the cold of the hardwood seeping into your bare feet. It looked warm and everything you’d been longing for the moment that exhaustion kicked in on the drive back.

It looked like everything you wanted it to be, but it was bittersweet. You knew what waited for you once you gave into the desire for comfort, you knew how distraught you may be. You knew you’d be met with an unhappy Winchester the moment the lies he already knew were spoken were proven at the sight of your distress. You knew it, yet you craved the feeling of crawling back into that perfectly worn bed under those blankets, tucked away in that shirt of Dean’s.

You almost had to refrain from having an argument with yourself on whether or not you should cave and climb in or if you should wait it out, wait till you can’t stay awake anymore.

You caved.

You sat up with a jolt, whole body jerking as you propped yourself up on your elbows for the millionth time that night. You went about your routine, eyes scanning the room for the possibility of a threat waiting for your gaze before pouncing. They scanned and scanned until the tears kept you from doing so adequately, spilling down heated cheeks. Your heart had been pounding so damn hard again, slamming against your chest as if to break free.

When those watery eyes glanced at the clock it’d only been a half an hour, a small stretch of time that felt like your whole entire life wrapped around each minute. It almost felt agonizing.

Dean hadn’t come to bed quite yet. Dean. That feeling crept up on you, the one that’d been there ever since that hunt went south. You pushed it off, stuffed it down the way you always do. Because that denial of yours has you convinced that you don’t need comfort, that you’re too strong for that. You’re not weak, perhaps not the strongest person out there, but damn were you ever stubborn. Always when you didn’t need to be.

But it seems as though your body didn’t give you a fighting chance, not as you got out of that bed shaking like a damn leaf in a Kansas thunderstorm. You felt wobbly, unstable but you stifled it as you walked towards that familiar wooden door, twisting the old brass knob and swinging it open carefully. Careful as if there was some stupid supernatural monster that could hear every noise you made like it was in that house with you.

But the hall was empty. Sam’s door was closed, Bobby’s the same. Just a dimly lit hall from the nightlight plugged into the wall streaming in. It was empty until it wasn’t. It was empty though you didn’t get very far, not as that set of foot falls make their way up those creaky stairs. You knew who they belonged to, you knew the sound of those boots anywhere.

You stopped in your tracks in the hopes that maybe he wouldn’t see you, something proving to be beyond ridiculous the moment his gaze lifts to yours. You see that look on his face, the way his body language changes. He tenses up, stiffens in the way he gets when he senses any need to be protective of you. He tenses yet he’s so soft all the same.

You’re hoping he doesn’t see the way you swallow thickly, hoping that the less than poor lighting works in your favor because you can feel how wet your eyelashes still are. You don’t even have the nerve to even attempt to sniffle either, surely that would give everything away, not that you had much working in your favor.

“Everything okay?” He asks, that tone behind his words more than evident that he knew the real answer.

You shifted on your feet slightly, attempting to stand a little taller to save at least a little bit of your facade. “Just getting a drink.”

Your voice was soft, more fragile than you’d like it to be as that tremble in your body fights to make its way into your throat and shake your words. Doesn’t matter how good of a liar you were, nothing would ever get past him. He might lead you to believe it’d been working for a little while, just to leave you have your pride in times like this because that’s the only time you ever lied, but just like times like this, he’d never fully let it go because he always wanted to resolve whatever was going on.

He stepped closer to you, close enough to have you tensing up over the fact that it was very easy for him to see just how bothered you were in that moment. But your brows furrow, knit together as he peers around you for a reason you can’t pinpoint.

“I see that glass of water I left there for you doesn’t even have a lick out of it,” he says, looking down at you with raised eyebrows. He watches your expression change, even if you try and hide it. “Funny, ain’t it?”

You swallow once more, pursing your lips. “I didn’t know it was there.”

You did.

He chuckles then, humorless as he shakes his head before his gaze returns to you. “You’re lyin’ like a cheap rug right now, you know that?”

“No I’m not!”

You quiet down before you wake anyone, exhaling a frustrated breath as you stare up at him with a narrowed stare.

He looks a you, gets a good long look and you can’t even begin to figure out what he’s thinking, just that your stomach twists under his gaze because there’s no way he’s not seeing the smeared tears that glisten under the softer that soft lighting. There’s no way he can’t see the sheen of sweat that lays over your skin. There’s no way he doesn’t see how unsteady you are.

You’re almost to wrapped up in your thoughts to notice the way he’s lifted his hand, finger tips brushing lightly over the side of your neck. You didn’t understand why at first, couldn’t comprehend it. But it only took a few moments to realize.

“Your heart is pounding, Y/n. Don’t even try and tell me it didn’t happen again.”

“Dean, it’s—”

“It’s not nothing. You’ve been off the whole ride home and you were off when I patched you up thirty minutes ago. I know you better than to believe whatever you’re trying to fool me with,” he says, a quiet anger in the softness of his voice as his hand finally drops to his side.

You stand there, your own anger simmering away and trying it’s best to burn hot. Angry at the way he can figure you out, angry at the way he’s insistent on making sure you’re okay when that stubborn pride is screaming for you to stand your ground and act like nothing is wrong even when it’s the last thing you need to do. Angry because you’re so tired that it frustrates you, that everything frustrates you.

You’re so tired. So much so that that stubborn wall begins to crumble, steady crushed by the desire to be comforted and safe. Nearly demolished with every second that passes as your lip wobbles under the pressure of it you.

For the millionth time that night, you caved.

“I can’t sleep,” you whisper softly, weakly. “I can’t sleep and I can’t take it.”

His expression softens when you finally give it up, finally let that guard break away as you press your face into his chest, hiding the tears that ran hot down your cheeks. It was a quick bout of them, only a few falling before you wiped them away. Just as quick as your moment of vulnerability. He could tell by the way you tensed again, and the way you turned on your heel with a huff and walked back to the bedroom just a couple feet from where you both stood.

That wall you built up was still crumbled to pieces but a little bit still remained. But Dean followed behind you, those dimples by the corners of his mouth reappearing. This is the one habit of yours that he hated. It’s one he’s gotten well practiced over the years himself, but it’s the last thing he’d ever want you to do.

He’s quiet as he tugs on the rolled up sleeves of his flannel, watching as you sit down on the bed looking miserable as ever. You looked half asleep as you leaned against the headboard, tucked away against yourself as the breeze flowing through the nearby window blows your hair gently.

He shrugs his flannel off, slinging it over the back of the chair at the desk nearby. He pulls at the laces of his boots next, kicking them off near impatiently as he fumbles with his belt buckle. It’s only a few moments time before he’s stepping out of his jeans, tugging the blankets back.

You’re fighting the urge to doze off, something that briefly becomes just a little bit easier when he tugs you down further on the mattress in a gentle motion, promptly pulling you to tuck yourself against him. It’s an opportunity you take full advantage of as you press into him, the silent action of comfort something you needed more than anything and he knew that for hours. He knew it and he was relieved you’d gone and let him protect you.

He always would, whether you protest it or not, but it’s easier when you’re not letting that stubbornness get the better of you.

You push and tangle your legs with his, weaving into him to get as close as possible as if he’s this shield that’ll keep you safe from anything in this world. He would and he will. He wouldn’t want to do anything else.

His arm his wrapped around you as you all but melt into him and his embrace, his other hand smoothing over your head, fingers combing through the tangles in your hair. He was careful as his fingertips work through knots, varying in size and he can tell you’d been tossing and turning just from that alone. He’s careful as his fingers brush along the freshly taken care of wound on your cheek.

Dean Winchester is the gruffest, toughest man you know, rough around the edges and one hell of a threat to any monster and run of the mill douchebag that crosses his path. He’s rough, but the gentlest you’d ever known as he lays there wrapped up with you in a bed that’s borderline too small for two.

You feel the softness of the kisses that are pressed to your forehead, to your nose when you tip your head back some. His comfort is the only thing that makes anything any easier, his company is the only one that ever matters. He was solid ground amongst a sea of panic and worry, he was steady and always there. That green eyed, freckled hunter was the sweetest man you’d ever known despite the temper he’s got on him, but you wouldn’t want him any other way.

You could feel that frustration subside the more time that passed, those tears not so pressing behind your tired eyes. You were exhausted, drained. That trembling feeling in your body, that rattled feeling, it was still there, a reminder of how your night has been. The affects that wreaked havoc on your body still hit you like a ton of bricks. But you were safe now, safe from the threat of more terror because there’s something about Dean Winchester that makes everything feel okay.

Even if he finds it impossible to think anything remotely highly of himself, doesn’t know of any good quality he possesses. You see all the good in him so he doesn’t have to, you know he never will.

“Sweetheart?” He says, soft as ever as the nickname his spoken against your forehead.

You hum softly, too tired to do much else as a cool gust of air sweeps over you from that window. It’s all you could muster as you lay there wrapped up with him.

“Get some sleep, won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmurs, “okay?”

You nod, you nod until you decide the action isn’t quite enough of an answer for him. You lift your head as much as your energy would allow, pressing your lips on his in a soft kiss.

“Okay.”

—

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#dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean winchester imagine

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specialagentlokitty · 3 months

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Arthur(Merlin) x reader - in the snow

Hi! If you still write for BBC Merlin would you be able to write an Arthur x Merlin sister Reader? With the dialogue “Can you use magic?” “I feel unsafe answering that.” (from your 2024 prompt list). Thank you if you do write it! <3 - Anon💜

A/N: I realised I had spelled Gaius wrong after finishing this, but I’m really lazy and don’t wanna correct it 😂😭

You had no real interest in following your brothers footsteps to work for the royal family, you didn’t want to work for anybody else.

You were happy living on your own, away from the world with your house and your dog, your horse, your flowers.

You loved the way you lived.

And yes, every so often the knights would come to pick up your money you had to pay for your land, but since you grew your own food and sold your crafts in towns and villages it didn’t matter all that much to you.

Today was the day that they came to collect your payment, so you made sure to stay home.

Kneeling down in your garden, you were working on your flowers, carefully tidying them up and trimming them down.

You heard a bark, and you looked up.

“Rufus?”

Standing up, you brushed your hands on the cloth and looked to the dirt path where a few horses were coming down.

You grinned brightly when you saw a familiar face.

“Merlin!”

You quickly set everything down and made your way over, the moment your brother got down from his horse your crushed him into a hug.

“Hi!” You beamed.

Merlin laughed quietly, hugging you back.

“Hey, this place looks amazing.”

You pulled away, grinning proudly at him.

“I take pride in my work.”

You turned around to the knights and the prince that was with him, offering him a bow.

It was swift, elegant, you held a hand behind your back and one over your stomach as you leant down, lowering your head.

“Sire, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m (Y/N), I do hope my brother doesn’t give you too much trouble.”

“Nothing I can’t handle, thank you. It’s nice to meet you.”

You stood up, gesturing to the home.

“Rufus is no harm, I’m sure Sir Lancelot knows that.”

The knight smiled softly at you.

“It’s good to see you again.”

“You as well, I’ve got that tea you asked me for, would you like me to make you some?”

“Yes please, honestly you could open a tea shop because you make the best tea.”

You laughed a little bit, leading them all inside.

Only those three came inside, the other knights waited outside for them.

You sat them at a table, bringing over some bread you had made, and you made them all some tea, setting their cups down in front of them.

“Make yourselves at home, I’ll be right back.”

You went into your room, bringing up a floorboard to gather the money you owed before returning and handing it over.

Then you turned to Arthur.

“May I ask what brings you by sire? Normally this is not a matter for a Prince.”

“Merlin had been begging me for weeks to come, i guess it was curiosity to finally meet his sister. You’ve done wonderful things with this land. It was rundown the last I saw.”

“Thank you, the home itself was in good shape, it was a simple matter of getting some men from the village nearby to help clear it then set everything else up.”

Arthur nodded his head.

“How is it going? Have you been selling those crafts?” Merlin asked.

“Oh yes! People love them! They’re very helpful as well, especially for the farmers and the bakers, plant based baskets are easier to replace rather wood, and harder to break.”

Merlin nodded his head.

“You make things out of plants?”

“Yes sire, it is easier to get ahold of around here, they’re easier to work with as well. Especially Ivy. It is easy to manipulate the way it grows, and you can cut some away with the rest coming back.”

That was what caught his attention first, how compared to Merlin you were calmer, you were respectful to everybody even though you didn’t know them, and your craft.

Then there was your house, minimum decorations, just basic things you would need.

But outside was covered in flowers of all colours, the great wolfhound you rescued wondering in and out, and the horse outside just happily grazing in her paddock.

Arthur found himself coming back when he could, pretending to buy things that they needed in Camelot.

It was an excuse to see you, and he could try get there at least once a week since it was only a few hours there and back.

Arthur had to admit he was concerned when it drew to winter, because winter was harsh, and he couldn’t see how you would be able to survive there during the brutal winter.

“She’ll be fine, she always is. She knows how to get survive.” Merlin said.

“Merlin we are looking at the worst winter we’ve seen in years. It’s not even winter and we’re already getting snow. Your sister will be isolated out there for months if this carried on.”

Merlin paused what he was doing for a moment before he carried on.

“She won’t come here.”

“Excuse me?”

“(Y/N), if you ask her to come she won’t come.”

“Why?”

“Because she likes her own space, she doesn’t like crowded places like this and wouldn’t be able to live here for that long, a week or so would be fine.”

Arthur didn’t say anything, he carried on reading the book that was sat on the table in front of him.

“She’s also coming next week, to visit Guis.”

Arthur snapped his head up.

“Really?”

Merlin smirked a little, lowering his head as he carried on working.

“Yes sire.”

Arthur threw the book at Merlin who just barely dodged it and he left the room.

You arrived a few days later, staying mostly with Guis or Merlin if you could.

Arthur finally managed to find you while he was heading back inside the castle, you were stood outside with Rufus catching snowballs you threw.

He made his way outside, standing next to you.

“It’s far too cold to be outside.”

You turned around, offering him a smile.

“It’s nothing I’m not sure to this time of year, I was actually thinking about taking a walk. Do you know any good trails?”

“There is one, it’s possibly the safest. I’ll accompany you if you don’t mind? If anything happens to you I won’t hear the end of it from Merlin.”

You laughed softly at him.

“Yes fine by me sire.”

“Right, come wait inside.”

You followed him, and waited in the hallway.

It took a short while for him to come back, and he held out a thicker more elegant cloak out for you.

“Wear this.”

“Sire I can’t, that’s much to rich for somebody like me.”

“(Y/N) put the cloak on, and call me Arthur.”

You didn’t want to disobey him, so you put it on and he led you outside.

You could see that a few people walked the trail, but not many, and you two held light conversation as you walked.

It was nice for him to not have to act so important, and you were talking to him just like a normal person, as if you two were from the same town or village.

You enjoyed stopping to look at simple things, animals in the snow, the way the sunlight gleamed on the snow making it sparkle.

Arthur was just entranced by you, and how you just seemed so happy.

“You’re always so happy when I see you, why?”

“What is there to not be happy about? I have a home, a brother, a mother, I have friends, food. There is always something to be happy about.”

Arthur hummed a little, nodding his head.

“You wouldn’t want more in life?”

“Not when I already have everything. You don’t need to be rich to be happy, as long as you find something or someone that makes you happy it’s alright.”

Arthur glanced at you, and he smiled a little.

“That’s a very different take in the world.”

You beamed brightly at him, kneeling down to make another snowball for Rufus.

“Hey, look out!”

Arthur went to grab you but it was too late, you slipped down the hill, and he was rushing as fast as he could behind you.

When he reached the bottom he knelt down.

“Hey, hey (Y/N)?”

You grumbled a little, lifting your head to look at him.

“Hey, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“My leg.”

Arthur nodded, looking down at your leg, gently touching it and you winced in pain.

“Here, come on, let’s move you up.”

Arthur helped you up, and you guys slowly walked along the bottom of the hill to try and find a way back up.

After a while you had to stop, so he took his cloak off and laid it on the snow and sat you down.

Rufus laid next to you letting out a whine.

“I’ll try find a way, I’ll be right back.”

You nodded your head, watching him leave.

You knew there wasn’t going to be one, a hill like that there wasn’t going to be a way back up that wasn’t covered in snow.

Making sure it was safe, you held out your hand, whispering something under your breath, and a small trail in the snow fell away, creating a path up.

You ran a hand over your dogs head, scratching behind his ears.

Arthur wasn’t gone long, and he came back, shaking his head.

“I couldn’t find one, I’m sorry.”

He knelt next to you, looking at your leg again.

“I did find some sticks though, do you have anything in that bag to help me make a splint?”

“Oh, of course.”

Opening it, you pulled out your scarf, handing it over to him.

“It’s not the best, but it should help. We’ll sit here and rest, then keep going. I think there’s a storm coming in.”

“I think I saw a path just over there, could you look?”

Arthur looked at where you were pointing.

“Yeah, of course.”

He got up, checking.

He made sure it was stable before grabbing you, helping you up it, then he crouched down.

“Get on.”

“I can’t do that, a Prince can’t be seen carrying someone like me.”

“I don’t care, you’re hurt, get on.”

You sighed, climbing on his back and he stood up, making his way back where you guys had come from.

“I’ll take you to Guis, hopefully you leg isn’t that bad.”

You nodded, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“How did you see the path, I didn’t see it.”

“Maybe in the panic you missed it? Or it blended in the with snow?”

“No, no it definitely wasn’t there.”

Arthur went quiet for a few moment.

“There’s only one thing I can think off.”

“What’s that Arthur?”

He paused walking, crouching down to set you on the ground before turning around to look at you.

“Can you use magic?”

You tried not to react.

“I feel unsafe answering that.”

“(Y/N), can you use magic?

“If I say yes you’ll have me killed, if I say no you’re not going to believe me, and have me killed. I’m sorry but I can’t answer.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes a little bit, and he spun around to a noise behind him but there was nothing.

Turning back around his cloak and yours were on the ground, and you and Rufus were both gone, leaving not even a footprint in the snow

#bbc Merlin #bbc merlin x reader #bbc Merlin x you #bbc Merlin imagine #arthur pendragon imagine #arthur pendragon #arthur pendragon x reader #Arthur pendragon x you

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queermania · 1 year

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Wait wait wait. Jensen picked the writer who gave Dean a lesbian best friend and made him a nerd to be the show runner for his little fixit fic show? This is amazing!

when you look at robbie's run of episodes (that he wrote specifically, not produced or was the executive story editor on), a very specific version of supernatural and dean starts to emerge and it is insanity-inducing. here's a very brief rundown of the episodes robbie wrote:

slash fiction -swayze always gets a pass -dean singing air supply -"it's like eating self-righteousness' -the creation and introduction of frank devereaux -"applications for sainthood" -dean letting sam go

time after time -"what are you gonna look up more anime or are you strictly into dick now?" -dean being a nerdy little fanboy about eliott ness (and checking out a dude in a uniform but that was probably jacting joices) -dean getting excited about dressing up in period clothing!! -understanding that rufus matters and that family isn't just blood -original sam is milf!bait (and he's into it) truther -actually writing grief in nuanced ways -dean is smart and resourceful actually! -your future is "covered in thick black ooze" (which i know is just a very lucky coincidence but i don't care!)

the girl with the dungeons and dragons tattoo -CHARLIE!!! he gave us charlie. he said "actually what if hardcore fans were cool and fun and GAY and they were dean's new best friend" -charlie/dean/security guard flirting split screen -"she's kinda like the little sister I never wanted." "how does a high-school dropout become one of the brightest minds…" -basically this entire episode is just "be gay, do crime" and i love that for me specifically

bitten -not my favorite episode but as @ilarual says "it's very fun in how it illustrates Robbie's willingness to play with form, since it's all done as found footage" -and as @doctorprofessorsong says it "has the concept of monsters aren’t always bad guys" -and apparently it contains a brokeback reference? my memory of this episode is hovering at around 1% tbh but you get it

larp and the real girl -dressing dean up in little outfits AGAIN -and he likes it!!! -and he likes being a nerd! (dean is getting into it and sam is the one who is unamused mr serious guy!!!!) -and charlie is dean's new best friend! -"belladonna" "the pornstar?" -"did you break up with someone too?" -honestly you already know all of it. this is a fan favorite for a reason. what more can i say about this episode??

goodbye stranger -yes robbie was the first writer to try to give us a destiel love confession -cas practicing killing dean over and over and over and still not being able to do it when it comes down to it -"what broke the connection?" gee i wonder -first episode writing cas and he nailed the sort of unintentional deadpan humor that makes cas so lovable ("would it kill you to watch a movie? read a book?" "a movie, no, but with a book with the proper spells—yeah, it could theoretically kill me.") -"if he's so sketchy then why are you praying to him?" -pizza man reference -"do you really think we can trust megstiel?" (we get both megstiel and jealous!dean) -dean quoting lord of the rings (because he's a nerd! and he reads!) -meg roasting the shit out of sam for the amelia stuff -etc

pac-man fever -charlie reading the carver edlund books -charlie and dean being besties/getting a montage -dean telling charlie that what happened with her parents wasn't her fault/understanding the guilt she feels -"i love you" "i know" -"what about castiel? he seems helpful, and dreamy" -again, putting dean in little outfits -charlie knows how to shoot/aim a gun

slumber party -dorothy!! -oz!!! -look, is this episode cheesy? yes. but it's fun and it's so obviously a love letter to the oz source material and i love that about robbie. he does his research and he commits

first born -cain!!!! -drowley team up!!!!! ("friends. besties, actually." im sorry but drowley means so much to me personally and this is the start of their beautiful bromance) -"this is by far the dumbest idea you've ever had." "yeah, well, it's early" -cas liked pb&js!! jelly, not jam. he found jam unsettling!! -"you have a guinea pig? where?" -"you're a terrible liar?" "that is not true. i once deceived and betrayed both you and your brother." -just. sastiel shenanigans (and hugs!) -"she only asked for one thing." "to stop" -anyway. you get it.

meta fiction -dean and cas phone call smiles!! they LIKE each other -metatron media dump -"what makes a story work? is it the plot, the characters, the text? the subtext? and who gives a story meaning? is the writer? or you?" -i think it's important to note that robbie who wrote gabriel faking his own death -cas noticing something is wrong with dean pretty much instantly and then discovering the mark of cain

fan fiction -i mean. come on. -"although we do explore the nature of destiel in act two." -"you can't spell subtext without s-e-x" -sam being such a younger brother and trolling dean about "destiel" -"BM scene" -dean "you know they're brothers, right?"-ing the w*ncest stuff but just being flustered about the destiel stuff ayyyy -dean casually referencing andrew lloyd webber -"transformative fiction" -"i want you to put as much sub into that text as you possibly can" -dean quoting rent -the samulet is back! -"i have my version, and you have yours." -"he took away our own free will" <- about john!! -THE RETURN OF CHUCK!

there's no place like home -"i forgive you dean" "yeah well i don't" "i know, kinda your move" -"you hurt my friend" -"you lied to me" "you lied to yourself. that's kinda your move." -i mean. robbie just gets it, ya know?

book of the damned -cas being a huge bitch (love that) -sam being the excessively codependent one -cas and charlie get to meet! -found family goodness if only for a little bit!!

angel heart -ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!! -"i got it at the hot topical" (and claire keeping grumpy cat) -no seriously. dean and cas went birthday present shopping together for claire and they did it at a mall -castiel feeling guilt for what he did to the novak family (and amelia recognizing that cas has changed/grown) -"you were both troubled teens. you speak her language." -"bring your daughter to work day" -"i'm saying she might be stronger on her own." which is a controversial line but i think it says something really significant about how dean feels about his childhood "in fact you're not anything to her except a constant reminder of someone that's gone." -mini golf!!!!!! dean and claire bonding!!!! -the introduction of the grigori, a class of angels which may or may not be important at some point -claire roasting the shit out of dean with "you seem pretty old" <3 -"happy birthday. don't shoot me."

baby -do i really need to explain anything about this one? -"okay first of all, never use swayze's name in vain, okay? ever." -"mistakes were made" -dean having a dream about john teaching him to drive but under normal and appropriate circumstances -werepire…. ghoulpyre… -honestly just the whole episde. you know what i'm talking about. the unique perspective. the insight into their day-to-day lives. the moments that live in between.

into the mystic -eileen! my best friend eileen! -dean x mildred otp -remembering sam's lucifer/hell trauma -the whole "follow your heart" speech -"banshees go after the vulnerable, so why'd it go after you?" -dean recognizing there's something off with cas -but really the most important thing here is EILEEN

safe house -bobby and rufus!!!! -i repeat BOBBY AND RUFUS!!!! -"were you ever nice?" "1985. worst year of my life." -robbie just really GETS that this show is more fun when it's not centered entirely on the brothers. -bobby referring to sam and dean as his boys -timey wimey shenanigans -there were some interesting implications in this episode too but i'm losing steam here so i'm gonna let you rewatch and figure it out lol

don't call me shurley -the reveal of chuck as god!!!! -bisexual chuck -dean does sam's laundry (sometimes with beer) -chuck is a shitty egotistical writer -he also plays the guitar and: "i like front row seats. you know, i figured i'd hide out in plain sight." -"i thought if i could show my sister that there was something more than just us, something better than us, then maybe she'd change. maybe she'd stop being… her. but every time I'd build a new world, she'd destroy it." -"the world would still be spinning with demon dean in it but sam couldn't have that though could he?" -"you were gonna choose amara over me."

so. yeah. jensen chose THIS GUY to helm the winchesters. bold move, sir. full respect.

also, this tweet always makes me crack up

one of us! one of us! one of us!

#replies #anonymous #robbie thompson #mp

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scoobydoodean · 27 days

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Hey 👋 I just wanted to ask when, in your view of Dean, do you see him figuring out his sexuality? I know you don't like the idea that Sam explains it to him as an adult through some inexplicable ability to diagnose someone with bisexuality and I also dislike this idea as I feel it kinda disregards both Dean's personal experiences as well as the general climate towards queer people when he was growing up which was obviously not favourable at all. Also if you believe that he figured himself out early on, do you think rufus and bobby helped with that? Idk I just like the idea of dean having queer elders in his life and finding out about himself that way. Or maybe I just like the idea of dean having a support group 😞. Anyway sorry this ended up being me just kinda going on a rant. Thank you for all your dean posts he is my favourite and seeing you defend him makes me very happy 😊

I enjoy the idea that Dean has been hooking up with women and men the whole time and we just don't get to see that explicitly (because of the network? Because of Chuck? Because Dean keeps his activities with men under wraps out of caution? Because he made a bet over how long it'd take Sam to notice? Pick your poison).

Fun little bits that lend to this perspective for me are 1.15 The Benders, Dean's fascination with Dr. Sexy and his sexy cowboy boots, Crowley and Demon Dean's summer of love (especially the triplets), Dean's affinity for dorky little guys and Victor Henriksen.

The most interesting and convincing one to me though is the idea of Dean testing the waters with Cas a few times in season 5 with little flirtations, only to come to the conclusion that Cas isn't into men because Cas keeps missing all of his hints about hooking up (5.03a, 5.03b, 5.03&4.10&5.15, 5.18). Or they did hook up once at some point but it didn't become anything more and didn't happen again after the one time (6.19).

Regretfully, I must also spare a nod to #sam knows (but so does Dean!).

It's just fun to me. It's fun to think about. I don't really have any specific headcanons about an exact time period when he figured out "Oh I like chicks and dudes". But I also don't think John Winchester would give a shit if Dean fucked dudes or wanted to date or even marry a guy so I don't know that the family aspect would be such a big issue (*cough cough* bi John truthing). If anything, I think John might worry himself sick about Dean getting hate crimed by somebody and open his big mouth and say some things he shouldn't have—the same way he drove Sam away because he was so fixated on the terror he felt at the idea of Sam not being safe (1.08, 1.20). Then again, John was never as paranoid about Dean's safety as he was about Sam's.

I do have a tag where I collect queer dean stuff. #swayze always gets a pass.

#sorry this took me so long to come back to! been a busy couple of weeks #swayze always gets a pass #mail

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belokhvostikova · 10 months

Text

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing and smoking.

It was Steve Harrington’s twenty-ninth big birthday palooza.

Well, at least that’s what the giant, colorful banner called it, that hung across the foyer of his home. That’s what happens when Dustin Henderson plans your party. But the kid—who was beyond the definition of a kid now—had told Steve he had no right to complain about it being childish. Steve did shoot down the first option of “Big Birthday Bash,” terribly unaware that palooza was the next best thing for Henderson.

Had he known, he surely would have stuck with the first option.

Steve was correct, though. The banner was childish, and it had garnered all the fascination from the mini Munson that walked in with a gaping mouth of pure awe at the bright sign. At the very least, the actual kid would enjoy it.

And “palooza” was really selling it out. It was merely a group of adult friends simply hanging out like old times. Only the new addition was the three-year-old hanging off your leg, who adorably looked a lot like your husband.

Not fair. You did most of the work.

But it was worth it, staring into those baby cow eyes every time you crouched down to your kid. And once you stood up, you’d find them again from Eddie Munson, himself, who peered at you lovingly.

Of course, you had to show off your baby and bring him to the party. He was already a crowd favorite. Being the first baby born into Hawkins’ infamous clan of misfits gave you that right. And they all loved that tiny Munson.

Especially after that “Happy Birtday, Uncle Steeb!” It was enough to make icebergs melt.

And having a child at an adult hangout wasn’t all bad. Keeping the beers separated from the juice boxes, and having a yard big enough for the child to run was sufficient enough. Bonus points for Steve Harrington’s dog, Rufus, who took up all your kid’s attention.

By the end of the night, the group had naturally separated into two; the men left smoking outside, while the women conversed in the comfort of the living room. This had come after the cake celebration. Once the candles were blown out, Steve had joked that he wished to keep all his hair throughout his thirties. In reality, he’d wished to start a family as loving as the one his friend had.

He would end up confiding this to Eddie during the relaxed smoking session. That he wanted the whole package; a wife and kid. In fact, he dreamed of having many of them. Eddie blew out the smoke from his cigarette and smiled. “It’s the greatest fucking feeling ever, man.”

Because when Eddie looked back through the glass doors of the patio, he saw you. Sitting and chatting, beautiful as ever. But the cherry on top was seeing his tiny kid straddling your lap. His curly head of hair buried into your neck calmly asleep, as Eddie’s leather jacket draped over as a comforting blanket.

“I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” Eddie beamed, as he stomped out his cigarette.

One day Steve would get that. Whether it was with the pretty lady he was currently seeing or a future soulmate, he’d get that.

Eddie had walked in, strutting over to the quarter of cake that was left after everyone had gotten a slice. Not you, though. You were busy cheering on Steve from the couch, as your baby used your chest as a bed. Cutting a slice, and plonking it onto a paper plate, Eddie meandered his way next to you on the couch.

“You deserve a piece.” He forked a triple chocolate portion into your mouth, where he smiled, as your face contorted into delight. “Good?” He knew it was, he devoured two slices earlier. You could only hum with pleasure, before he leaned in and whispered. “Should we feed the monster?”

It was a risky move. One taste of sugar, and your three-year-old would turn into the Hulk. But it was a risk worth taking, your baby was too cute not to feed treats to.

Eddie managed to slowly insert a small piece between his tiny puckered lips, as he slept. And in true Munson fashion, your baby chewed in his sleep, eyes closed but mouth surely moving.

Then, those baby cow eyes tiredly opened at the sudden sweetness. “Choclat?”

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I don’t know why I keep making Dad!Eddie blurbs. It’s an addiction that can’t be stopped.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #dad!eddie x mom!reader #steve harrington

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shellbilee · 23 days

Text

Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 5

A Glen Powell RPF Series

Apologies for the little hiatus guys. I'm hopeful that I'm back to regular posting, Glen's recent content influx has certainly helped with my inspo! Please comment if you'd like to be tagged! x

Billie

Billie hears a groan of effort and looks back at her phone sitting in the cradle on her dashboard. The metallic sound of dumbbells hitting the floor rings out and suddenly a face fills the screen, familiar brown eyes looking back at her.

“Alright I’m done with my set now, sorry”.

Billie laughs and shakes her head, looking away from the phone and back at her reflection in her rearview mirror.

“You’re the one that called me, Brad” Billie counters to her brother, smoothing back the baby hairs near her forehead into her slick ponytail.

Bradley, her brother had facetimed her ten minutes ago, Billie having since pulled into a car park at the address Glen had sent her this morning.

“Yeah, cos’ I feel like we haven’t spoken in ages and I miss my little sis’” Bradley says with a smile before taking a quick sip from his water bottle, “Besides, who else am I gonna speak to at this time? You’re the only one I know that would be awake”.

“Speaking of, why are you doing a workout at----” she pauses, lifting her wrist to check her watch, “Three AM?”.

Bradley shrugs nonchalantly, as if going to the gym in the early hours of the morning is the most normal thing in the world.

“Just came off a week of night shift. First day sleep routine is always kinda fucked. Couldn’t sleep, so figured I’d come and do a workout rather than wake Jords and the kids”.

“Have you tried reading a book?”.

Bradley pulls a face and Billie can’t help but laugh at it.

“Oh yeah sorry, I forgot you’re allergic to reading” she teases, knowing her fire-fighter brother hated every single second of school and study and she, the book smart one in the family, was the complete opposite.

Bradley rolls his eyes and wipes his face with a sweat towel. “Where are you off to anyway? Gym?”.

Billie looks back at her reflection again - she’s wearing activewear again, this time a pair of tight latte coloured shorts and a white racer back tank whose neckline makes her shoulders look toned.

“I don’t know actually. It’s a date” she says with a soft laugh, looking back down at the facetime call.

Bradley snorts. “A date? Dressed like that?”.

This time it’s Billie’s turn to pull a face.

“He said to wear something I don’t mind sweating in, and to bring a change of clothes”.

Billie swears she can see Bradley’s face morph into older-brother protective mode.

“Don’t mind sweating in? Who is this guy?”.

Billie only smiles. “Just a guy I met at Rufus the other day”.

She stays tight-lipped with the rest of the details - namely, that the guy also happens to be a Hollywood celebrity and is so gorgeous that just looking at him makes her want to melt into a puddle on the floor. Though she and Bradley were close and told each other almost everything, she decided to stay vague about her date.

Right now, she’s happy being in her exciting first-few-dates bubble. And she isn't ready for it to burst by involving other people. She would tell Bradley later, maybe.

Bradley starts to ask another question when Billie looks down at her watch, looking back at her phone and interrupting her brother to say she needs to go.

“I’m gonna be late ok? I’ll talk to you later in the week?”

Brad nods, “Yeah yeah, you better. Be safe ok?”

“I always am, Brad. Give my love to Jords and the kids yeah?

“I will. Love you Bil”

“Love you too”.

The call abruptly ends and Billie lets out a deep breath, suddenly aware that her heart is hammering in her chest. She’s nervous, nervous to see Glen again even though she’d seen him less than twenty-four hours ago, though admittedly the last time she’d seen him she’d kissed him without warning.

She can still feel his lips on hers, their plush softness moving against hers in a gentle dance, his scent in her nose, his fingertips on her skin. She’d struggled to think of little else during her bosses housewarming barbecue last night, flashbacks of their kiss invading her every thought as she’d mingled with her work friends.

Billie realizes she’s closed her eyes, opening them a moment later and letting out a breath as she looks out the window at the busy LA street in front of her. She double checks the address on her in-dash car GPS confirming she’s at the right place, before taking a final look at her reflection, grabbing her bag and stepping out of the car.

It’s a sunny Sunday morning in LA, the sunshine instantly blinding as Billie closes her car door behind her, reaching up to shield her eyes and looking at the modern brick building in front of her.

Oh my god.

It’s the Alo gym.

God, it’s a workout date.

Billie can’t help the breath that escapes her throat then.

Glen really did take her advice about unconventional dates seriously.

Fuck.

Billie sucks in a nervous breath and reaches up to smooth down her hair, making her way towards the entrance and doing her best to ignore the mass of butterflies that have suddenly started flapping wildly in her stomach. She knows it’s nerves, but part of her also knows it’s excitement at the thought of seeing Glen again.

She gulps silently.

Here we go.

Glen

Glen’s sitting in the entrance area of the Alo Wellness club, relaxing into one of the sleek, cream coloured lounges. His right leg is bouncing like he needs to go to the bathroom, but he knows it has nothing to do with his bladder.

He looks down at his phone in his hand for what feels like the tenth time in a minute, looking at the numbers above his screensaver of Brisket.

10.02am.

Glen knows he’s nervous, but he doesn’t know why. He’d been on hundreds of dates in the past but for whatever reason this one feels different.

They’d spent most of yesterday together, talking and laughing for what felt like hours, they’d even kissed yesterday - albeit unconventionally, but still. His stomach is a tangle of nervous thoughts and feelings, and all of a sudden he can’t help but second guess his date idea.

Billie had said unconventional, but was this taking it too far? Especially so soon?

He’d come up with the idea almost instantly yesterday, calling Keith, his Alo trainer as he’d driven home from his Ikea trip with Billie. Some part of him had decided that a personal training session for the two of them would be a great second date idea, given he and Billie had bonded over their frequent exercise and gym habits.

It ticked all the boxes - it would be an activity she told him she enjoyed, one they both regularly participated in, and it was certainly not a traditional date choice.

It was the kind of activity that he would never even attempt with a lot of girls, let alone on a second date, but with Billie? It seemed like the perfect choice. At least it had when he’d come up with it yesterday.

Glen shakes his head as if he’s arguing with the voice inside his head, ignoring his thoughts and standing firm on his decision. He exhales through pursed lips and flips his phone over in his hand again, looking up when he hears the entrance door open.

In an instant, all of his fears and concerns are gone.

Billie looks every bit as gorgeous as he remembered, even better if that were possible, his eyes running over her as he watches her ask for directions at the front desk. There’s a smile on his face before he can even think about it, standing up from the lounge just as the receptionist points in his direction.

He feels his breath catch in his throat when Billie’s eyes meet his, and suddenly there’s a smile on her face too - a smile that makes every single muscle in his chest contract.

Glen stays put as she makes her way over to him, unable to help his gaze from following the sway of her hips. She's wearing a pair of light brown coloured shorts and a tight white tank top, both accentuating her fit figure and making her golden skin glow.

Glen’s fingers tighten around his phone and he fights the urge to bite his fist and audibly groan, suddenly wondering how on earth he's going to get through this date without dying when she looks like that.

“Hey darlin’”.

Billie grins gorgeously. “Hey you”.

Glen steps forward to kiss her cheek just as she does the same, the turn of her head making his lips land dangerously close to her mouth. He sees her cheeks immediately flush as they step apart, and Glen fights the urge to groan out loud again for the second time in thirty seconds.

Fuck.

If they hadn't been somewhere so public he'd have tipped her chin and pulled her in for a bruising kiss.

Glen swallows and reaches down to pick up his gym bag, grinning down at Billie.

“So, what do you think?”

Billie tilts her head and smiles, “I see you really were listening when I said unconventional dates”.

Glen laughs. “Told you”.

“So what are we doing?” Billie asks as Glen gestures for her to follow him, heading over to the elevators at the back of the room.

Glen shrugs and presses the ‘up’ button on the wall, looking up when the elevator immediately dings. “You'll find out in a second”.

Billie laughs and flashes a worried smile. “I’m actually kind of terrified”.

He returns her laugh as the doors open and they step into the modern elevator, Glen stepping forward to press the button for level seven.

“You’ll be fine, I promise”.

The doors close and a moment later they’re going up, Glen struggling to ignore the less than three inches of space between them. That, and the sweet, spicy peach scent of her perfume that’s once again filled his nose, the one that’s plagued his brain since their kiss yesterday, the one that seems to be permanently burnt into his every waking thought for the past twenty-four hours.

God.

A moment later the elevator dings again and the doors open almost as quickly as they closed, revealing the sprawling, modern black and white gym floor of level seven.

They step out and Glen smiles when he sees Billie look around in awe, spying Keith up ahead standing and talking to Mike, one of the club’s other trainers. Glen nods when Keith sees him, leading Billie over towards him to introduce her.

“Hey bud” Keith says, pulling Glen in for a handshake hug in that way that only men do, Glen stepping back and gesturing to Billie.

“Billie, this is my trainer Keith. Keith, this is Billie”.

They shake hands and Billie smiles, Glen momentarily caught up in how beautiful he thinks she is for the tenth time in only ten minutes.

“Glen’s told me a bit about you. You’re a physical therapist?”

“Yep! I work at Evolution Sports Rehab, on Olympic Boulevard?”

Keith nods, “Ah I know the one. I’ve sent some clients there before actually, to see Ross?”

Billie nods enthusiastically, “Yes! He’s my boss. He’s incredible. He’s a big part of the reason I’ve worked there for so long”.

Glen watches Keith and Billie chat, impressed at the way Billie so effortlessly converses with new people. He smiles to himself as he looks down at her.

No wonder she’s such a good physical therapist.

Glen takes Billie’s bag off her shoulder and puts their bags aside, returning to stand with her and Keith holding two water bottles in his hands.

“So, what fresh torture have you got for us today?”

Keith laughs and Billie looks mildly terrified, Glen putting his arm around Billie and offering a reassuring squeeze.

“You did say you wanted a bit of a challenge” Keith says pointing at Glen, Billie dropping her head back in dismay, “And you did say that Billie was basically an athlete”.

Billie’s head snaps back up and she looks at Glen in alarm, “An athlete? On what planet?”.

Keith drops his head back and laughs, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding” he says holding his hands up in surrender, “But he did say you work out quite a bit, so I’ve put together a team challenge for you both”.

Keith turns to make his way over to the squat rack, motioning for Billie and Glen to follow. As soon as his back is turned, Billie punches Glen’s arm playfully.

“You have definitely talked me up way too much”

Glen grins as he looks down at her, winking mischievously. “No such thing darlin’”.

Billie grins and rolls her eyes adorably, Glen taking her hand and pulling her until they’re both standing in front of Keith again.

“So, we’re going to do a bit of a circuit challenge. It will be a mix of strength and cardio, but you’ll need to work together to get through it” Keith says, pointing at various equipment around the room. “There will be ten stations, and at each one there will be a rep target which you can divide up between you, so you can sub in and out as you need”.

Glen reaches up to stretch his arms above his head, the corner of his mouth tugging into a sly grin as he looks over at Billie’s wide eyes.

“For example, battle ropes. There will be four hundred reps. Billie you could do one hundred, then Glen does a hundred, and repeat until you get to four hundred. Ideally, the goal is to do the entire circuit in under fifty minutes”.

Billie exhales loudly. “Have you done this exact circuit with people before?”

Keith nods. “The record is forty-six minutes”.

Glen bends his left leg behind him, holding his ankle so he’s stretching out his thigh, glancing down at Billie and back to Keith. He scoffs out loud.

“Forty-six minutes? Easy”.

The look of alarm is back on Billie’s face, though this time she’s looking at Glen like he’s insane.

Glen can’t help but chuckle at her expression.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into?”

He grins down at her, loving the way she smiles back at him.

“You said unconventional, remember?”

Billie shakes her head. “I think I’m starting to regret saying that”.

Glen laughs, and they both turn back to Keith.

“So, the key is to know your strengths, and what exercises you’re good or not so good at”.

Billie looks up at Glen, tilting her head playfully.

“Surely there are no exercise that you’re not good at”.

Glen opens his mouth to speak but Keith beats him to it. “Maybe ask that again when we get to the core exercises”.

Glen pulls a face and both Billie and Keith laugh.

“Alright then” Keith announces, clapping his hands together and looking back at Glen and Billie. “We ready?”

---

Forty-five and a half minutes later, Glen and Billie collapse on the floor on their backs, panting and breathless, and covered in sweat.

Glen feels like his chest is going to explode.

He knows it has nothing to do with the workout he’s just done that has his heart rate hammering at marathon race levels, and everything to do with the stunning, sweaty, sexy girl lying panting next to him right now.

Doing that workout with her was like forty-five and a half minutes of foreplay. He’d never been so simultaneously impressed and turned on in his life.

Watching Billie move and jump and squat and press had Glen thinking all kinds of things, things he definitely shouldn’t have been thinking while doing a workout in the gym. He couldn’t help but stare as he did his own exercises, frequently losing count of his own reps, his eyes dragging over her back, her legs, her ass. He was totally enamoured by her, by how strong and fucking sexy she looked, even now as she lay on her back, her chest heaving, breathless from the finishing the fifty burpees they were both determined to get done before the timer ticked over to forty-six minutes.

Glen turns to look over at Billie, his eyes running over her face, her lips parted as she sucks in breaths, her cheeks flushed and covered by a glowy sheen of sweat. He swears she’s never looked more sexy than she has in that moment, and all of a sudden he can’t help but imagine what she'd look like after another kind of cardio that has nothing to do with the gym.

And nothing to do with clothes.

“That” Billie pauses, sucking in a breath and exhaling loudly, “Was not the way I thought my Sunday would go”

“Probably not the way you thought this date was going to go either” Glen retorts, watching as Billie finally turns to look at him beside her.

She grins at him, that same gorgeous, breathtaking grin, her beautiful eyes sparkling, and it takes everything Glen has not to roll over and kiss her right there in the middle of the gym.

“You guys killed it. Broke the record and everything” Keith says suddenly, standing over the two of them and clapping his hands. “Glen, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you work that hard before. But I guess you had some extra motivation this time”

Glen chuckles and Billie laughs, but it sounds strained through their panting breaths.

“And Billie, that was pretty incredible. You smashed it out of the park, awesome stuff”

“Thanks Keith” Billie breathes, still panting, offering a weak thumbs up before dropping her hand back down to the ground dramatically.

Keith laughs. “You’re welcome”.

They talk for a few more minutes before Keith announces that he has to run to see another client, Keith bending down to shake both of their hands before waving and walking out of the gym.

Billie sits up and leans back on her hands, her legs still outstretched in front of her. Glen is still lying on his back beside her, dabbing his face with his sweat towel.

“Glen, that was fucked”

Glen tips his head back and laughs, dropping the towel back to the floor. “But you killed it”.

“I think it killed me” Billie replies exasperated, dropping head back and looking up at the ceiling, “I am going to be so sore tomorrow”.

Glen chuckles and moves to sit up from the floor, his sweaty skin sticking to the floor beneath him.

“I really need a shower”.

“That makes two of us” Billie laughs, “But I don’t think I can stand up”.

Glen laughs, letting out a groan of effort as he hauls himself upright and stands. He reaches down for Billie’s hand and pulls her up, unable to stop his eyes from flickering to boobs in the tight white tank she’s wearing.

God.

“I also need food” Billie announces, taking a long sip from her water bottle and smoothing back her sweaty hair, “I’m suddenly starving”.

Glen nods in agreement.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to grab a bite after this?” he asks, eyes searching her face as he looks down at her, “If you still have the day free of course”.

Billie’s lips part into a smile, and Glen can’t help the way his own smile grows.

“My day is totally empty”

“Oh really?” Glen inquires, one eyebrow raised, “Does that mean I can steal you for dinner too?”.

Billie laughs, shrugging her shoulders adorably, “If you don’t get sick of me before then, sure”.

Glen shakes his head and reaches out to touch Billie’s arm, flashing her his most charming grin and loving the way she looks back at him in that moment.

“I’m not sure that's actually possible Billie”.

Billie smiles, and Glen can’t tell if her cheeks flushing is from their workout or from his comment.

They walk over to their bags, Glen bending and handing Billie hers before bending to pick up his own.

“Did you want to shower here? Or head home and meet up again?”

Billie shakes her head and holds out her hand, “I brought a change of clothes like you said, I’m happy to shower here. But it’s up to you?”

“No no, here’s good” Glen says, dabbing at his face again with his towel, “the bathrooms here are pretty fuckin’ amazing”.

They walk towards the elevator and step in when the doors open, Billie’s perfume filling his nose as she brushes past. Glen presses the button for level 12, the two standing in comfortable silence as the doors close and they move up the building.

The elevator dings and the doors open up to the reveal the luxury spa, shower and sauna level, Glen letting Billie step out in front of him.

“The female bathrooms are that way” Glen says, reaching up to run a hand through his sweaty hair, “I’ll meet you back out here?”

Billie nods, looking over in the direction of the bathrooms and back up at Glen with a soft smile.

“See you in a bit”.

---

Billie

This shower is better than the one at Billie’s house. No actually, it's the best shower she's ever used. At the gym of all places.

It's all dark moody tile and black furnishings, the rainfall shower head providing the most amazing water pressure on her already aching muscles. Not to mention the luxury skin care products that are just free to use.

She’s in shower heaven.

Or she would be, if Glen was in there with her.

Billie tips her head back and lets the warm water cascade over her, unable to think of little else except Glen.

The way his muscles had rippled beneath his skin as he’d pulled himself up on the chin up bar, the way his biceps had flexed and moved as he’d picked up each dumbbell. Billie had barely been able to concentrate on her own exercises, not when Glen was looking like that, and certainly not when he was looking at her the way he had been. It was like he wanted to devour her - and if they hadn't been in public, she probably would have let him.

Right there in the middle of the gym floor.

Their workout has left her feeling all wound up in more ways than one, like forty five minutes of insane heated foreplay without a finish line. If she were at home, she’d probably play with herself.

She thinks about Glen in the shower, thinking about how badly she wants to have him pressed up naked against her, to feel his thick arms around her frame, his lips on her skin.

Fuck.

What was this man doing to her?

She wonders idly if he’s thinking about her the same way she is right now, suddenly remembering that he’s probably waiting for her outside and that she should get on with it. She exhales heavily through her nose and rinses the last of the soap suds from her skin, letting herself enjoy the shower for thirty more seconds before she turns off the tap.

Billie steps out of the shower and dries herself with the fluffiest white towel she’s ever used, changing into a pair of light blue mom jeans and a loose white button up shirt. She looks back at her reflection in the giant mirror of the luxury bathroom, tucking the front of her shirt loosely into the waist of her jeans and buttoning it just enough that it teases just a hint of cleavage.

She reapplies her makeup keeping it glowy and natural, using the gym’s very expensive hair dryer and blow waving her hair just enough that it’s tameable. She pulls her hair back into a loose braid leaving out a few face framing pieces, spritzing her favourite peachy perfume onto her neck and wrists. She steps back and looks over her reflection once more, deciding she’s happy with her look, packing up her things and walking out of the bathroom.

Billie does a double take when she walks out to find Glen sitting waiting for her on one of the cream leather lounges near the elevator, looking somehow even more handsome than he had earlier.

He’s now dressed in a cream henley shirt and brown trousers, a pair of brown leather boots on his feet. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough that she can see the beginnings of his dark chest hair, his hair still damp from the shower and falling messily but somehow still perfectly.

As if he wasn’t handsome enough just looking like that, Billie feels her breath catch when he looks up and sees her, his lips parting in an utterly gorgeous smile.

Billie tries not to notice the way her body feels as his eyes run over every inch of her, following her hips as she walks towards him.

“You look gorgeous”.

Billie smiles. “See, I was just thinking that about you”.

Glen laughs and stands up in front of her, pressing the button for the elevator and holding open the door for her as they walk in.

“Were you feeling anything particular for lunch?” he says looking down at her, Billie standing close enough to smell his delicious aftershave and fighting the urge to reply with ‘Besides you?’.

“I’m not fussy”.

Glen nods. “Good, I know just the place”.

---

Glen

“Were you really?” Billie asks, shaking her head in exasperation, “No way, I’ve seen that movie a thousand times, I’d have recognised you”

Glen laughs and nods his head, putting his hand on his heart to emphasize that he’s telling the truth, “I swear I am. I’m in the stock exchange scene”.

Billie’s brow furrows, like she’s replaying the scene in her head, and Glen chuckles when she reaches into her purse and pulls out her phone.

“No way. I have to look this up”.

They’d just had lunch - they’d gotten sandwiches at one of Glen’s favourite spots near the Santa Monica beach. It was a little hole in the wall place with an outdoor courtyard type area at the back, and best of all, it wasn’t too well known about. On this sunny Sunday afternoon, it was the perfect choice.

He and Billie are sitting side by side in a wooden booth together, having just finished their food. They’d been there nearly three hours now, the conversation and laughs between them flowing effortlessly. It’s only been two days, and yet somehow Glen feels like he’s known Billie for months.

They’d been talking about music choices when they exercised, Billie revealing that she actually liked to listen to movie scores when she ran - namely, superhero movie scores, saying that they made her feel motivated and pumped to keep going. That had brought them to talking about The Dark Knight Rises, at which point Glen had laughed and told her that he was actually in that movie.

He keeps his eyes on her face as she types on her phone, looking over her glowy skin and dark lashes, her full lips that make him want to kiss her for hours.

He hears the beginnings of a video play, the familiar menacing voice of Tom Hardy’s Bane character, watching as Billie’s eyes suddenly light up, her mouth dropping open in surprise.

“Oh my God it is you!” she exclaims adorably, looking up at Glen and then back at her screen still in disbelief, “How have I not noticed that before? How old are you there? You look like a baby”.

Glen laughs and takes a sip of his soda bottle, tapping his fingers against the plastic.

“Twenty-something---, twenty-four, I think?” he says just as he hears Bane smash his character’s head into a computer.

“You know, I actually got a real concussion during that take. Tom got a bit too into his character and instead of just tapping me on the head like he was supposed to, he actually slammed my head down. Had to go see a medic and everything”

Billie’s eyes widen in shock for the second time, a soft laugh of surprise slipping from her lips. “Oh my god, really?”.

He nods and they both laugh, Glen looking over Billie as she shifts in her seat to better face him.

The afternoon sun is warm and Glen has since shed his jacket, his gaze hidden behind his sleek sunglasses. He takes advantage of that fact, savouring every moment of his eyes on Billie’s available skin, the edge of a pale blue bra peeking out from the dip of her shirt from this new angle.

He tries not to notice the way one of her denim covered thighs is now pressed against his, or the way one side of her white shirt has slipped down to expose her golden collarbone. He finds his imagination wondering what her skin would taste like on his tongue, how it would feel beneath his lips if he kissed along it.

Billie lifts her hand to look down at her watch and back up at Glen.

“You need to go?”.

“No no, just thinking about Nugget”.

“If you want to go home and check on him it’s okay Billie”

“I want to” she says, her voice trailing off into a pause, “But, I also don’t want to leave”.

Glen smiles back at her, his eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses.

“Well, how about this then?” he asks, reaching up to run his fingers through his now dry hair, “You go home and grab Nugget, and then the two of you come to mine a little later for dinner?”

Billie tilts her head as looks at him, the corner of her mouth tugging into a smile, “Oh that is incredibly tempting”.

He grins and leans in towards her, loving the way her gorgeous hazel eyes are looking back at him.

“Anything I can do to make it even more so?”

Billie ponders for a moment, her eyes still on his, her tongue sliding out to wet her pink lips.

“Well, for starters, keep smiling at me like that” Billie says, leaning her elbow on the table between them and resting her cheek on her hand, “Do you have any idea how handsome you are? Like, it's almost unfair how attractive you are”.

Glen chuckles softly, the sound rumbling in his throat.

“I’ve been thinking that same thought about you since the moment I met you at Rufus, Billie”.

“Oh really? You think I’m handsome?” Billie teases, a laugh bubbling up in her throat.

Glen only grins, reaching up to brush a loose hair from her face, swearing he sees her suck in a silent breath.

“Actually you know what” Billie breathes, her voice almost a whisper, “I think there is something you can do to tempt me more so”.

Glen raises a curious eyebrow, acutely aware of how close his face now is to hers.

“What’s that darlin?”

Billie exhales quietly, her perfect lips stretching into a soft, sexy smile.

“Kiss me”.

Glen needs no instruction after that.

He tilts Billie’s chin with his finger and angles her face to his, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to hers.

---

Previous Chapter

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#glen powell #glen powell fanfic #glen powell fic #glen powell series #glen powell smut #glen powell x ofc #glen powell fluff

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rocksalt-and-pie · 7 months

Text

alright I've made a more in depth list of episodes I would like to see in a fanservice season 16 as previously mentioned in my other post:

- human Impala (should be portrayed by a 55+ years old actor or actress with a strong Detroit accent and a very loud deep voice. they have arthritis in their shoulders because Dean never oils their creaking door hinges)

- Sam and Dean body swap (the potential for jokes is just top tier and the outtakes from this will be out of this world) (Jensen playing Jared playing Sam and the other way around sounds like absolute chaos)

Cas immediately recognizes Dean even in Sam's body and it's revealed that all this time he has been looking directly at Dean's soul 😭 (no kissing in this episode though. God the psychological damage a Misha/Jared kiss would cause)

- parallel universe with female Sam and Dean that they get sent to and meet each other / alternatively: some kind of gender swap curse that makes them turn into women (the potential for misogynistic jokes turning into more understanding and therefore changed behavior is just chef's kiss)

Bonus points for Cas off-handedly mentioning that he doesn't think it's weird that he wasn't affected by the curse because technically he has no gender and the body he inhabits is just a vessel (close up on Dean's face Thinking Thoughts)

Rowena takes care of it and compliments the female versions of them and it's kinda gay ("do we have to turn you back? Shame, would have been nice to have some female company, we could have formed a coven! Or done other fun things" cut to irritated glances being exchanged between the brothers/sisters)

- Jack and Claire teaming up for a hunt (preferably saving their damsel in distress father and step-dad that got trapped in some dangerous place where they finally have nothing but time to talk things out because there is no way to escape, you have to be freed from the outside)

- stanford era Dean flashbacks (feeling lost and alone on the road)

- Bobby and Rufus in the 80s flashbacks (including baby Winchesters!)

- Bigfoot hunt (the teddy bear episode doesn't count) but it's just an escaped gorilla or something. I just wanna see them hiking again okay I like the woods

- some, like, desert monster idk. filmed on location in Arizona or Nevada in the sweltering heat. the boys being forced to remove layer after layer of plaid. show me Dean in a tank top (handprint included)

- birthday episode (either Sam's or Dean's idc. How come that in 15 years there was never a case taking place during one of their birthdays!)

- an actual wedding, either Sam and Eileen or Jody and Donna or Dean and [gun shots]

- beach episode, show me those bathing suits. give me a Bond girl moment

- another Wayward Sisters episode please

- reverse French mistake although it would be absolutely fucking insufferable and I would hate it with all my heart (but it would be sooo funny)

- resolve all the other loose threads of open ended episodes (there are so many! The tulpa from season 1! The girls in the hotel from the haunted house episode in season 2! Jesse the antichrist kid from season 5! The witch twins and how one of them brought the other back from the dead! The kid of that monster friend of Sam's that Dean killed in season 8 i think and told him to his face to come looking for him when he's grown up! That's five whole episodes right there!! and those are just the ones i could come up with from the top of my head but I'm sure there's more)

- BRING BACK BELA FOR JUST ONE SCENE PLEASE

- a lot of you mentioned a proper musical episode, which. sure why not. a curse that makes you sing/perceive everything happening as music perhaps?

- and then of course. The coconuts gently colliding but this goes without saying

#supernatural #season 16 #spn #spn season 16 #supernatural season 16 #supernatural reboot #spn reboot #destiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #mp #this is how EYE would do it

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rottenpumpkin13 · 2 months

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Crazy idea: Rufus gets de-aged to being like ten years old because of some Hojo shenanigans. He’s so horribly embarrassed by the whole thing that he goes to hide in some remote part of HQ. Little does he know that this is Sephiroth’s favorite spot to go for alone time and Sephiroth discovers him there. What happens?

(Your choice of whether or not this is actually the year old Rufus or if he still has his memories/older brain intact and it’s just his body that’s different.)

This started off as angst but violently veered off track and turned into shenanigans. Bone apple tea

The spot in question is one of the secluded parts of the rooftop, away from the helipads and other stations. This time Sephiroth ends up there after a disagreement with Genesis and Angeal that leaves him wanting to lock himself away from everyone for at least a day until he's ready to see them again.

Except he needs the fresh air, and 70 stories up breathing in the smog is as pure as the air can get in Midgar's mako-dense atmosphere.

Sephiroth goes there but there's already a child in the place he'd usually sit, a boy with platinum blonde hair and teary blue eyes.

Both the boy and Sephiroth are startled— moreso the boy. Sephiroth asks him how he got up there and where his caretakers are. The boy says he knew the code to the access point to get up there. Sephiroth asks again where his parents are.

The little boy gets quiet. Sephiroth notices how he's softly trembling and it's not from the cold wind. He says his dad is working, like always, and that his mother is dead. He explains to Sephiroth that she died very recently.

this tugs at Sephiroth's heartstrings. He asks him his name once more. This time the boy answers with Rufus. This is when Sephiroth realizes that the kid looks like a much younger version of the Vice President.

So he asks him if he's Rufus Shinra, and Rufus nods.

Sephiroth is shocked now and asks what happened, what's the last thing he remembers. Rufus says he remembers waking up in Hojo's lab and that's it. other than that he doesn't remember anything else, he thinks it's supposed to be one year but apparently they're in the future. he says he ran away from the labs.

Sephiroth's blood is boiling now because of Hojo. he knows if this gets out the president will be livid. so Sephiroth extends his hand and asks Rufus to come with him. he might talk to Hojo and demand he fix this otherwise he'll go to the president. he also fears Hojo's men are looking for him to take back to the labs, so Sephiroth grabs him and they go to Angeal's apartment.

Sephiroth casts the bitterness of the argument aside and Knocks on the door. Angeal answers, Genesis is already there.

They're surprised to see him back so soon, and even more so when there's a weepy little boy with Sephiroth.

Sephiroth explains everything to them. they're stunned. while neither of them ever liked Rufus Shinra, this kid is clinging onto Sephiroth and really confused. Sephiroth says this Rufus remembers that his mother died recently and can't even fend for himself.

They agree to help. Genesis suggests they go threaten Hojo immediately into changing him back. Angeal says it's best to lay low until the morning, at least until they figure out what's going on with Hojo and if they're looking for him

Genesis suggests they take Rufus to Hollander.

Angeal asks him if he's stupid.

Sephiroth figures it's worth a try. But they can't walk through the HQ with Rufus because that'll raise suspicion and also Hojo might find him.

Angeal throws a blanket over Rufus and Sephiroth picks him up and carries him.

They leave, get about halfway there before running into Tseng, who asks them if they've seen the VP anywhere, since Rufus has been missing for half a day.

They tell him no.

Rufus sneezes.

All three of them sneeze at once to try to mask the sneeze.

Tseng, suspicious, asks if they're all sick.

Genesis says yes, they've all contracted the flu.

Tseng inquires about the very odd white sheet in Sephiroth's arms.

Sephiroth tells him it's a giant stuffed animal...that he needs...to get in touch with his inner child.

Rufus sneezes again. Genesis violently sneezes to try to mask it. It flies in Tseng's face. Tseng is frozen in horror. This gives them enough time to flee.

Once they're away from everyone and on the way to Hollander's lab, Sephiroth uncovers Rufus and checks to see if he's sick.

Sure enough he's feverish—curse children and their low immune system. Rufus nestles in Sephiroth's arms and now Sephiroth feels conflicted because this is the Vice President, who is notoriously a pain in the ass, but it is also an innocent child done wrong by Professor Hojo.

Angeal asks Sephiroth why he's monologuing about the joys of one day setting Hojo on fire.

They reach Hollander's lab.

Hollander is asleep on a metal slab table with a bag of Stamp Champs and crumbs over his chest.

Genesis makes a mental note to get a proper checkup at the local clinic.

After waking Hollander up, explaining the whole debacle, and giving Rufus some medicine for his flu, Hollander agrees to help them under one condition.

Sephiroth: Yes we'll bring you the decapitated head of Professor Hojo.

Hollander: That's not what I was going to ask.

Sephiroth:

Sephiroth: Rats.

Hollander tells them that Rufus' condition is most likely caused by one of Hojo's experiments involving materia. They'll need to go fetch the exact materia used from Hojo's lab so Hollander can create an antidote.

Rufus is starting to fall asleep in Sephiroth's arms and mumbles something about "this must be what it feels like to be loved"

Genesis starts crying.

Sephiroth now feels fully responsible for this child.

Angeal tells Sephiroth that they better leave Rufus with Hollander while they go find the materia.

Rufus gets very upset by the idea of Sephiroth leaving.

Sephiroth refuses to leave him.

Angeal and Sephiroth are arguing.

Meanwhile Genesis found his recent blood test results and questions Hollander why there's mustard stains on them.

Angeal has enough, throws the white sheet back on Rufus and pushes everyone out the door.

They head for Hojo's lab.

They run into Tseng AGAIN on their way there.

All three of them try to speak at once but Tseng, wearing a surgical mask, just blasts them with disinfectant.

They run through the cloud of vapor hacking and coughing.

Rufus notices they're going back to Hojo's lab and begins to panic. He starts to recognize the lab and remember what happened to him in there.

His reaction further enrages Sephiroth, who kicks the door open and scares four lab techs and sends a metal cart flying.

Hojo demands to know why they're barging in like this.

Sephiroth hands the Rufus-shaped sheet to Angeal.

Sephiroth calmly approaches Professor Hojo.

Sephiroth punches Hojo in the face.

Hojo's nose is broken. He's screaming. He's demanding that security be called. There's a commotion.

Genesis panics and starts to look for the materia around the lab.

Rufus sneezes again. Three technicians look at him.

Angeal sneezes to mask it.

A technician hits a red button.

Three men in hazmat suits run out with disinfectant.

Angeal is now running from the hazmat suits with Rufus in his arms.

12 lab techs cannot pull Sephiroth from Hojo, who's bones are being crushed by the minute.

Genesis finds the materia.

He manages to grab Angeal with Rufus, signal to Sephiroth, and now the four of them are running out of the lab as a speed previously unknown to SOLDIER biology.

They run into Tseng again.

Tseng blasts them with more disinfectant.

They make it back to Hollander's lab and give him the materia. While Hollander is concocting an antidote, they're checking up on Rufus to make sure he's okay.

Rufus' fever has gone down but now he's very sleepy. He crawls into Sephiroth's arms to sleep. Sephiroth says he isn't ready to let go of child Rufus because he reminds him so much of himself when he was a child, treated unfairly by Hojo and the adults in his life.

Angeal reminds him that this is the Vice President, the face pinned to the dart board in Lazard's office.

Sephiroth can't hear Angeal over the sound of Rufus' cuddled up to him, sleeping.

Hollander creates a cure and brings it over.

Rufus is brought back to his former self.

Rufus wakes up with his full memories still snuggled in Sephiroth's arms.

Rufus: Alright....I must thank you for your help, but Sephiroth you can let me go now.

Sephiroth:

Rufus: Sephiroth this is inappropriate.

Sephiroth:

Rufus: Hewley, Rhapsodos, help.

Genesis: It looks like he's still fixated on child you. Perhaps you can say something shocking to bring him back?

Rufus: Oh, alright.

Rufus: Hm. Ah, I know.

Rufus: I was the one who killed Glenn Lodbrok.

Sephiroth:

Sephiroth: WHAT

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