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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 3 months

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The Dangers of Hope Ch. 8

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, fluff, some smut.

Word Count: 6,667

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: As I said in a previous post, this chapter just kicked my ass. I hope after battling with it for so long, you find it worth it. 😊

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Y/N and Dean followed Cas into the tent, curiosity hurrying their step. When they entered, Y/N went to sit beside Emma on her cot and smoothed back her daughter’s messy hair. “You were supposed to be sleeping.” She said, her tone scolding.

Emma just shrugged and Y/N rolled her eyes. Dean added some wood to the stove to warm up the tent a bit more before coming back to where Cas stood impatiently. Dean crossed his arms over his chest and lifted a hand towards Cas.

“Okay, Cas, what do you know?”

Cas opened his mouth to speak but then looked down at Emma. “Perhaps…perhaps the child should be removed.”

Y/N felt Emma tense next to her, but before she could say anything, Dean leaned down to scoop Emma into his arms, settling her against his left side.

“No, she’s fine.” He kissed the top of Emma’s head. “Right kiddo?” Emma nodded and beamed up at Dean before she tucked her head under his chin and snuggled into his chest.

Y/N felt like her heart might burst with happiness and warmth as she saw the evidence of the deep connection that had been forged between Dean and Emma. She was so distracted by the sweet moment that it took her a second to realize Cas was speaking to her.

She looked over at him and shook her head. “Sorry, Cas, what did you say?”

The angel sighed heavily, and repeated himself. “I asked you how old you are.”

Thrown a bit by the question, Y/N frowned. Cas thought he understood her reluctance and tried to address it. “I realize that it's a generally accepted practice to never ask a woman her age but this is important.”

Y/N chuckled and shook her head. “No, it’s fine, Cas. I’m twenty-eight.”

The angel’s eyes lit up. “What month and year were you born?”

“Um, March 1986. Why?”

Cas clapped his hands together once. “I knew it!”

Dean seemed as confused as she was. “Cas, man, what are you talking-”

“When did Azazel die?”

Dean pulled up short as Cas interrupted him and then he was clearly wracking his memory. “Uh…I think 2006 or - no,” he corrected himself, “no, it was 2007. May 2007.”

Cas looked back to Y/N. “And how old were you in May 2007?”

She tried to do the math quickly, but Dean answered for her.

“Twenty-one.” His voice was almost a whisper and it sounded full of awe. “You were twenty-one.”

Y/N stood up from the cot, tired of craning her neck to look up at the two tall men. She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and shrugged. “Yeah, that seems right. Why?”

Dean and Cas exchanged a look and then the angel’s handsome face split into another rare smile and Dean followed very quickly - a bright beautiful smile spreading across his face. It didn’t matter that Y/N had no idea what they were so excited about - Dean’s pure, unfiltered smile was like sunshine and it warmed her just as much. She couldn’t help but smile back.

Dean looked down at her, his expression full of wonder before nodding and looking back at Cas. “Yes. She was twenty-one when Yellow-Eyes died. That’s why the psychic connection was never triggered between them. By the time she turned twenty-two, he was already dead.”

Cas was nodding. “So, she has the blood in her system, hence the immunity, but -”

“None of those pesky psychic side effects.” Dean finished.

Y/N put up her hands. “Okay, you both have to stop speaking in riddles and explain what the hell you’re talking about.”

Dean shifted Emma to his other arm, so he could face Y/N easier. “The demon gave you his blood; we know that for sure because you're immune to the bite you got, and there’s no other way that could be true. But every other person I've seen with the blood in their system started getting various kinds of psychic powers as soon as they turned twenty-two. But,” he pointed at Y/N, “you don't have them.”

He smiled at Cas. “And now we know why.”

He looked back at Y/N and his face was the happiest she'd ever seen it as he continued explaining. “Because by the time you turned twenty-two, the demon was already dead. So the psychic connection couldn't be made between the two of you.”

He was beaming at her, and Y/N smiled back, but she was slightly confused by his joy. She shrugged. “Well, that's…good.”

Dean shook his head. “It's so much more than good, sweetheart.” His voice dropped to a whisper of awe. “It's a cure.”

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. “What?”

Cas moved closer. “Don't you see? The antibodies in your blood, they can be used to create a vaccine. And now that we know there's no inherent, potentially evil, psychic powers associated with the blood itself, there's nothing stopping us from trying to make one.”

Y/N felt an incredible sense of surreality fall over her, like she was suddenly in a very vivid dream.

A cure.

A cure for the world.

Inside of her.

It suddenly felt very hard for her to breathe, like she might just float away.

But then Dean's big hand was on her cheek, pulling her back to reality, grounding her with his warmth and the light in his emerald eyes.

“This is incredible, sweetheart. But it’ll be a process, probably a very long one. So, don't let it overwhelm you right now. Small steps, remember? Small things will add up to big wins, right?”

Y/N was so grateful for his steady calm and strength. She nodded as tears filled her eyes and she closed them, leaning into his palm.

“What's wrong, Mommy. Why are you crying?” Emma's little voice sounded slightly worried and Y/N popped open her eyes to see Dean kiss her forehead.

“Nothing's wrong kiddo. Mommy's just happy.”

Y/N nodded in reassurance, smiling brightly to put her daughter's mind at ease. “Yeah, baby. These are just happy tears.”

Emma seemed satisfied and smiled back.

Cas spoke again, his deep voice rumbling through the tent. “You know Y/N, it’s also unlikely that the responsibility will fall solely on you.”

Y/N and Dean looked at Cas questioningly as the angel explained.

“Well, Azazel never turned just one child at a time. He spoke of generations, didn’t he? So, there would be Sam’s generation, born in eighty-three, and now we know Y/N’s generation born in eighty-six. There may have been others. We don’t know when he stopped creating his psychic kids. So any kid he visited after nineteen eighty-six would have the blood with no psychic connection.”

He shrugged. “So, we could be talking about dozens of immune people, potentially more, depending on when he stopped. There may be many people out there that are just like you, Y/N.”

Dean pulled Y/N into his side and shook his head. “No, there’s no one like Y/N.”

Cas seemed confused for a moment as though they simply hadn’t understood what he said. But Dean just shook his head again. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re right. We’ll have to try and figure out his system, how he did things, how and why he chose the kids he did. That’s gonna be a lot to try and search out. We should start figuring out how to go about researching with our very limited resources.”

Cas looked like he thought of something, opening his mouth to speak. But then he stopped himself and just nodded. “Yes, research.”

The three of them talked for a long time, going over thoughts and theories without coming to any firm conclusions.

Finally Emma let out a loud yawn, and Y/N wrapped her arm around Dean’s waist. “But Dean’s right. We’re not going to figure everything out right now. Small steps. We’re all snowed in here for a couple of months now, right? So, we can take that time to try and come up with a game plan for spring.”

The men both nodded and Cas moved towards the exit, but Dean called him back. “Wait, Cas.”

When the angel turned back to him, Dean took two long strides towards him and then pulled him into a one armed hug, trying not to bounce Emma too much as he was pounding him on the back.

“Thanks, man.” He said, his voice slightly rough. “For everything. And for…not giving up.”

The angel was obviously awkward with the show of affection, and just patted Dean on the shoulder. He was looking down at the ground as he answered him. “Actually, I gave up many times. I just couldn’t manage to stay given up.” He said with a shrug.

Dean chuckled. “Well, then thanks for not staying there.”

The angel nodded and left the tent.

Silence reigned for a moment before Y/N took a deep breath and then turned to her daughter. “Okay, baby, I think it’s time for you to actually go to sleep now.” She admonished her with a smile.

Emma pouted slightly, but then giggled as Dean tossed her gently into the air, and then swung her downward to let her feet touch the floor. He held the back of her head in his big hand as he kissed the top.

“Goodnight, kiddo.” He looked at Y/N. “You’re low on firewood, I’m gonna grab you some more.”

As Dean went out into the dark, Y/N tucked Emma back under her thick blankets. She leaned forward to kiss her cheek, and Emma's expression turned curious.

“Mommy, are you going to marry Dean?”

Y/N felt her jaw drop. “What?”

“Are you going to marry him now?”

Y/N shook her head. “Where is this coming from? Why are you asking?”

Emma shrugged her thin shoulders. “In the fairytales, after they kiss, they get married.”

Y/N just chuckled. “I don’t know baby, it’s way too early to think about that.”

Emma’s brow furrowed in confusion. “It’s nighttime.”

Y/N laughed happily. “Yes, it is.”

Emma’s expression cleared and she smiled shyly. “I like him.” She nodded as though confirming her own words. “Lots.”

Y/N booped her nose. “I like him lots too, baby.”

In fact, I’m madly in love with him. She admitted to herself and the feeling warmed her.

She’d known it for quite a while, and in fact she wondered whether she’d actually fallen in love with him when she was sixteen years old and he came to save her from the dark. It was entirely possible. But either way, she was completely in love with him now.

But she didn’t say any more to Emma, telling her goodnight one more time and then moving slowly around the tent, putting things away and straightening up the small space.

As she tidied, she worked to process everything, all the incredible information that had been relayed to her so quickly tonight. But the long term effects of Cas’ revelation made too many emotions and thoughts swirl around in her mind. It was a bit too much to contemplate at the moment, so she pushed it aside.

Instead she let her mind drift back to the memory of Dean’s kisses, before Cas had shown up. The way his lips had felt as they moved against her skin was lodged firmly in her memory and it made her sigh.

Her mind slid back to the way he’d touched her, the way his deft fingers had played her like an instrument. The memory of him pushing into her body, of how he’d so easily plucked pleasure from deep inside of her, had her biting her lip as wetness flooded her again.

Her excited reverie of Dean was interrupted as the man himself came back inside with an armful of firewood. He walked towards her, stopping short when he saw her heated expression as she looked up at him. A slow, knowing smile crossed his face.

“Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart.” He said. “Or, let me guess.” He moved to the box beside the stove and unloaded the wood before turning back to her and pulling her into his embrace.

His voice dropped low and quiet as he spoke into her ear. “Thinking about our time outside the tent?”

Y/N nodded, and then dropped her hand between their bodies to cup the slight bulge behind his zipper. “Yeah, I’m very sorry we got interrupted.” She whispered back. “I guess I owe you one.”

Dean growled quietly and she chuckled. He kissed her lightly, his lingering lips telling her that he wanted so much more. But he pulled back.

“Looking forward to it.” He said with a smirk. Then he sighed. “But for now, I should head back to my tent and let you get to sleep.” His voice and his expression were full of regret.

Y/N nodded and then shrugged. “Or…”

She thought of Emma asking about kissing and marriage and realized that they clearly weren’t actually hiding much from her. So she decided to just go for it.

“Or, you could stay the night here.”

She was quick to elaborate her offer when Dean’s eyes got wide. “I mean, we’d just be sleeping. But it would be nice to…” She dropped her gaze to the ground. “It would be nice to wake up with you.”

Dean nodded and lifted her chin with his forefinger so he could smile at her. “Yeah, it would.” He kissed her again softly and then glanced at the narrow cot. “Gonna be a tight fit.”

Y/N laughed and then pressed tight against him. “Well, guess we’ll just have to snuggle a bit then.”

Dean moaned softly. “Not sure if that’s an offer of heaven or hell.”

Y/N smiled wickedly. “Probably a bit of both.”

***

As winter settled heavily onto the camp and the snow grew higher everywhere, rotating groups of ten to twelve people per week were tasked with making sure the snow was shoveled from pathways and piled up safely and effectively against the tents to act as another layer of insulation from the wind.

The food boxes Brandy had suggested were a big hit; everyone already had to deal with freezing trips to the outhouses, so limiting more outside time was greatly appreciated.

For the most part people hunkered down in their tents, but there was one thing that brought folks out - The Mid-Winter Feast, as Y/N had dubbed it. She’d decided that before they had to fight through January, and most of February, always the harshest part of winter, they should have a little celebration of their community.

So, she’d asked Monique, Brandy and a few other interested campers to meet her at the main cabin, with the electrical heat turned on for an hour or so a day, so they could plan. In the beginning, they’d just been planning a small dinner - just people bringing some rations together to enjoy as a group. But as more people became involved, the celebration expanded.

The camp hunters offered to go out into the very cold surrounding forest and hunt down some kind of fresh meat. After a few days of hunting they returned with a half dozen rabbits, two geese and a young buck. So, there would be lots of rabbit stew, a couple roast geese and salted venison for the feast, with a bunch of leftovers too.

The elderly quilt-maker, Hannah, spent an afternoon giving a lesson to the kids (and a few adults as well) teaching them how to make small bannocks over the fire, which were then donated to the feast. All the campers also each donated two days worth of their vegetable rations so that everyone could have a feast of mashed potatoes, green beans and corn.

The camp builders chopped down a tree and brought it into the big cabin. It would eventually be firewood, but for now it was the star of the show. Y/N had the schoolkids take labels off of empty tin cans and fold them into stars as decorations for the tree, while the builders took the empty tin cans themselves, and cut them into wintery shapes like snowmen, sleds, and mittens. The metal was a bit dull, but it still added some shine to the tree when they were hung there.

When Y/N read to the kids in the cabin at the end of the week, parents and non-parents alike came in to listen to the stories while they stood at the tables and folded evergreen branches into boughs and wreaths.

Everyone pitched in, and soon the cabin looked incredible, draped in green and other bright colors.

The actual day of the feast was busy and happy. The rabbit stew was made in a big pot over a huge outdoor fire where the geese were also roasted, and soon the whole camp smelled like sizzling, delicious food.

Everyone carted chairs from their tents to the big cabin, trying to jam them all in. The grownups all managed to sit at the big tables lined up around the room, even though everyone was pressed in tight beside each other. But the kids table ended up being the floor at the base of the tree. But the kids sure didn’t seem to mind; they kept forgetting to eat while they chattered with each other loudly and looked up at the decorated tree with wide and wondering eyes.

Brandy and Y/N made sure that baskets of food were made up and taken out to the soldiers who were at their outposts making sure the camp stayed safe while everyone celebrated.

It was a truly incredible day, and when dinner was finished, and the food packed away safely, they all stayed in the cabin a few more hours, playing simple games like simon says or charades, or talking and laughing together, and just generally enjoying the company of other people before the cold mostly bound everyone to their tent for the next couple of months.

As the evening ended and people began heading for their tents, happily full and tired, Dean came back into the cabin, having gone out a bit earlier to check on his soldiers. He walked up to where Y/N sat with a sleeping Emma on her lap.

He smiled at them as he approached and in that moment Y/N felt a peace flood through her that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Obviously the world was still dangerous, and they still had so far to go before they were safe, but in that moment she felt completely happy.

When Dean got to them, he reached down to lift Emma out of Y/N’s lap and hold her in one arm, so he could reach his other hand out to Y/N. She clasped it tightly and they walked slowly back to their now shared tent.

As they walked along they could hear people calling out goodbyes to each other, as well as a continued murmur of conversations through the paths of tents. There was a sense of peace and happiness hanging over the whole camp.

Dean stopped in the middle of the path back to their red tent and turned to look down at Y/N. His face seemed awestruck and he shook his head.

“Last winter we all had to huddle in the cabin just to stay alive, and this year we were all crowded in there again, but this time we were actually living. People used to walk around the camp nervous every time I passed by. But now they smile.” He bent his head to press a soft kiss to Y/N’s lips. “You’ve changed everything, sweetheart.”

Y/N blushed. “That isn’t because of me. The winter just hasn’t gotten too brutal yet this year, and everyone helped out with the feast. And if people are less nervous around you, that’s obviously because of you, not me.”

But Dean just shook his head. “No…it’s you.”

***

Six weeks later

“What are we doing here?” Y/N asked with a laugh as Dean finally let her open her eyes and she saw he'd led her to the garage.

Dean was smiling at her. “I wanted to show you something.”

He took her hand and led her around the side of the garage. As they came upon the black Impala that sat beside the building towards the back, Y/N gasped. Snow had been cleared away all around it, and the weeds and grasses that had overrun it had been pulled up. There was still some rust on the doors and the tires were still flat, but the cracked windshield had been replaced and it looked much spiffier than it had before.

The big, black beauty looked like she knew she was getting love again.

She looked at Dean as he brought her closer. “You've been working on her.”

Dean looked a bit sheepish. “Yeah, just when I had a bit of spare time, so there's still lots to do. She still doesn’t have an engine, but I put in a new battery that lets me do this.“

He brought her to the driver's side door and opened it with a heavy creak. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, the moonlight glinting off the silver keychain. Then he leaned inside and pushed them into the ignition, turning them so that heat and radio turned on. Of course the radio had nothing but static, so Dean quickly turned it off.

Dean closed the front door to open the back and lifted a hand, inviting her to precede him into the back seat. She climbed into the soft leather seat, Dean following behind her. She could see the inside had been lovingly cleaned and restored.

“This is amazing!” Y/N said enthusiastically, her hand running over the buttery leather of the seat.

Dean nodded, looking around. “Yeah, gotta a lot of work left, obviously. But…”

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as he took off his jacket. “It's good to be back with her.”

He caught Y/N's eye and his expression became teasing.

“Now let me show you the new feature I installed.” He reached past her shoulder where a thin blanket hung; it was more like a small sheet. He pulled it across the two passenger side windows and then did the same on the driver side. He leaned over the front seat and tucked the ends of the sheet into the visors in the front, effectively closing off the interior of the car, with only a thin strip of the windshield left uncovered.

Y/N laughed as he sat back down beside her. He raised a finger. “And my very favorite feature is this one.” He reached forward again and pushed down the door locks on the front doors before doing the same in the back.

He moaned softly as he leaned back into the seat. “Privacy, blessed privacy at last.”

Y/N was smiling wide as he looked over at her. The heat in his gaze made her blush and duck her head; his need was so raw and blatant it made her stomach clench and wetness pool at her core.

The last six weeks had indeed been both heaven and hell. It had been too cold to go outside very often, so they were mostly left inside the tent, where their touching and kissing was very limited. Stolen moments here and there were simply, not nearly enough.

So to finally be somewhere they could be together, privately with a lock on the door…

Y/N bit her lip. “You said you asked Monique to watch Emma?” Dean nodded. “For how long?”

“Hours. At least. There was talk of a sleepover.” He answered roughly.

Y/N felt her heart beat double time as she watched Dean. The set of his jaw was harsh as he leaned over to pull her easily into his lap so she straddled him. Y/N braced herself against his wide shoulders as he reached up to suck on her pulse point.

He pushed her jacket off of her shoulders and then shoved up her t-shirt so he could cup her breasts through her bra. His voice was a rattling groan.

“Ah, fuck sweetheart, you’re so goddamn perfect.” He murmured as he laid nibbling kisses along the tops of her breasts. Y/N was quickly overwhelmed with her need for him, but she tried to find her breath and form thoughts, so she could tell him something.

But then he thoroughly distracted her as he pushed the cups of her bra up, freeing her breasts so he could push them together and bury his face in the cleavage. He licked and sucked at her skin, teeth scraping and biting as his big hands squeezed one breast and then the other. Y/N lost her thoughts completely as he reached between her legs and pushed at the soft material of her sweats and leggings, pressing them against her soaked core.

He pushed his hand under her waistband, not stopping until he buried his fingers deep inside her. His invasion was so sudden and forceful Y/N cried out loudly as her walls clenched tightly around his thick fingers.

He grunted against her lips before biting her bottom one and tugging on it. Y/N let out a gasp and ground down against his hand. Dean swore and pumped his fingers into her faster and rougher, adding a third and stretching her. The mostly pleasurable sting of the stretch reminded her of what she wanted to tell him and she laid a hand on his wrist where it disappeared into her pants.

“I have…have to tell you something.”

Dean stilled the movements of his hand, but kept licking and nibbling on her breasts. “What?” He asked in a rough voice.

“I um…I think I might…” He sucked hard on her nipple and she ground down against his hand again. He resumed his movements, pumping in and out of her fast and hard. He found her sweet spot and pressed against it, making her fall forward onto him, burying her face in the side of his neck and rambling out the end of her sentence.

“I think I might suck at this.”

Dean stopped moving all together and his breath left him in a whoosh as he pulled back from Y/N and pushed against her shoulder so he could look her in the eye. His brow was furrowed in complete confusion.

“What?” He asked, his breathing rough.

Y/N was embarrassed. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.” She reached for his mouth, but Dean turned away and shook his head.

“No, explain what you mean.” He said as he pulled his fingers out of her body. Y/N groaned.

“No, I don’t want you to stop.” She pulled his hand back so he was cupping her wet heat through her clothes. “Please don’t stop. I just…wanted to, I don’t know, warn you I guess.”

She shrugged. “So you could limit your expectations.”

Dean was staring at her and his expression was incredulous. “Why on earth would you think that? What would make you believe that?”

Y/N shrugged again, embarrassed and wishing more than anything that she had just kept quiet. “It’s just…well, it’s been a long time.” Her face was bright red. “I mean, I haven’t exactly been dating. The last guy I was with was Emma’s father and….”

She swallowed thickly. “...and he was also my first, so…I have, I mean I don’t have a lot of experience. And I got the feeling that…well that he didn’t really like what I was doing.”

She couldn’t look at Dean as she spoke, staring at his neck instead. But Dean called her name softly and she slowly looked back up at him. In contrast to his gentle voice, his expression was fierce, and his eyes were blazing.

“Listen to me carefully. There is no possible way for you to be bad at this.” Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but Dean pressed a finger to her lips. “No. There’s no argument to be had here. The facts are simple, you are stunningly beautiful, sexy as hell, and you make my whole fucking body hard.”

She rolled her hips against him with a slight smile and he groaned.

“God damn woman, I’ve wanted you since that first day I took you to the river and you came out screeching and covered in leeches.” He grinned.

Y/N batted his arm. “You weren’t supposed to be looking.”

His grin turned wolfish as he pulled her t-shirt off completely and unhooked her bra to toss it into the front seat. “Well, I was. And what I was looking at hasn’t left my mind since.”

He trailed the calloused pads of his fingers down the soft sides of her breasts. “You’re so perfect, Y/N and I want you so much. The way you respond to my touch,” he tweaked her nipple and she gasped, “it’s what I dream about. And I can’t get the taste of you off my tongue.”

He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, pulling her mouth down to him, and sucking her tongue into his mouth. He trailed kisses down her neck, inhaling deeply. “And fuck, when you’re not near me, I can still smell your scent on my clothes. And I get so hard thinking about you that it actually hurts.”

He pressed her hand against his straining cock and Y/N whimpered slightly. She caught his gaze as she reached for his zipper and he nodded, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as she reached into his pants to caress him. Holding his breath, Dean lifted his hips so he could push down his jeans and underwear, giving her complete access to him.

She held him in her fist tentatively. “Can I…um…”

Dean responded to her truncated sentence quickly. “Yes. Whatever you were going to ask, the answer is yes.” She squeezed him slightly and he groaned harshly. “Yes, please.” He added in a harsh whisper.

Feeling bold and confident now, she slipped down to the floor, her knees scraping against the rough floor mat beneath her. She began placing kisses up and down his rock hard shaft. Then she licked the slit at the tip of his cock before taking the whole head of his dick into her mouth and sucking hard. Dean slammed his head back against the seat and pushed his fingers into her hair, guiding her head as she bobbed up and down.

She pushed as far as she could, until he was at the back of her throat. Then she pulled off him with a gasp, but went right back, getting him further down her throat the second time, and working the base of his cock with a tight fist. Drool and cum dripped down his shaft, lubricating him, and she used it as she pumped him.

Finally Dean tugged on her hair gently and shook his head. “Fuck, Y/N, you gotta stop, sweetheart. I'm gonna come, and I've waited way too long for the chance to be inside you, to move in you and feel your tight, sweet pussy clench around me, feel it pull me into your heat.”

Y/N moaned at his incredibly hot words, and came off of his cock with a pop. Dean helped her up from the floorboards and when she was mostly upright, he yanked down her pants and underwear. They got caught up in her boots and she stumbled back onto Dean’s lap, laughing, her feet tied together. But she was too impatient to try and get her boots unlaced and off, so she just left them. But she tugged his t-shirt up and off of him, kissing a path across his chest.

She held the base of his cock steady as she rose to her knees and lined him up at her entrance. Both of them groaned in unison as she sank down on him slowly. He was so big it made Y/N bite her lip as he stretched her with the same slight sting she’d felt on his fingers. But it was so worth it; the way he filled her so completely made her breathing extremely harsh as she began to rock against him.

Dean pulled her back down to his mouth so he could kiss all the air out of her lungs as she rode him. He slipped one hand down between their bodies and pressed his thumb against her clit, making her gasp and dig her nails into his shoulders as she held on tightly.

The coil in her lower abdomen was getting tighter and tighter as he pressed so perfectly against her. Finally he pulled her nipple into his mouth again, sucking hard and Y/N tumbled wildly over the edge. She slammed her hips up and down on him as she rode out the climax.

Dean pulled away from her breast and grabbed onto her hips, taking over their rhythm, lifting her up and slamming her down against him as she faltered and fell onto his chest. He wrapped an arm around her waist, jackhammering into her tight sheath, and once again swirled his middle finger around her sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Come on, sweetheart. I wanna feel you clutch me tight one more time, just one more.”

Y/N’s head spun with pleasure and she sat up and then leaned back, resting her hands behind her on his thighs. The new angle had him hitting her sweet spot with every thrust. It didn’t take long to send her spinning into another climax; this time when she fell, Dean fell with her, bending forward to nip and lick at the valley between her breasts as he bucked up into her, spending every drop of himself.

Finally he rested his forehead against her sternum and just breathed hot and panting against her damp skin. There was no need for the curtains now, every window was covered in condensation and impossible to see through.

Slowly their breathing returned to normal and Dean wrapped them both up in his jacket. The heat in the car was on, but it was still just late February, and the air was cold on their overheated skin.

They shifted slightly so that Dean was leaning back in the seat and Y/N rested against his chest. She loved the feel of him inside her, even soft, and she wasn’t ready to give it up yet. Dean pushed her hair back from her temple and kissed her there. His breathing was still a bit rough as he spoke.

“Would you care to tell me again how you think you’re bad at this?” Y/N chuckled and Dean shook his head. “Guy was a fucking idiot, obviously.”

Y/N just nodded. After a moment, Dean kissed her forehead. “What happened there, with him? Emma’s father, I mean. Where is he now?”

Y/N sat up slightly and shook her head. “I have no idea. He was gone long before the world ended. Pretty much as soon as the stick turned pink.”

Dean kissed her softly. “Asshole.” He said simply and Y/N nodded again, smiling and laying back against Dean’s chest.

They dozed there gently for a while until there was suddenly a light tapping on the front passenger's side window. They both jolted awake and Dean groaned.

“What?” He called out angrily.

It was Johnston who answered. “I’m so sorry to bug you, sir, but I was told Y/N was here. It’s Emma, she’s hurt.”

***

By the time they got dressed, turned off the car and ran to the medical tent, it was already quite full of people. Monique, Keisha and Julianne were there and both little girls were crying. Brandy and Theresa were there too. Patrick, who'd been an EMT before the end came, and who therefore acted as the camp medic when needed, was standing close to where Emma sat on a folding table that was covered in a sheet.

Her daughter’s big blue eyes were swimming in tears and as she saw Y/N enter she began crying in earnest, reaching her left arm out towards her, while she held the right one close to her body. Y/N could see that her right arm was bent at an odd angle.

Broken.

Her stomach twisted and she felt a bit sick as she looked at it. But she walked up to Emma and pulled her tight against her. “Oh, baby, what happened?”

Monique stepped forward, her face awash in guilt. “I’m so sorry Y/N. The girls were all playing together just outside the tent, while Brandy and I were talking. We’d left a flap open and we could see them. But it just happened so quick we couldn’t stop it.”

Brandy took over the story. “They were all taking turns sitting on Theresa’s back and she was riding them around like a pony, and Emma just took a tumble off her back and…and then just started crying. We got her over here as fast as possible.”

Monique covered her mouth with her fingers. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” She repeated. But Y/N just shook her head.

“Oh, Monique, no, it isn't your fault. Or anyones.” She said looking at Theresa whose face was ashen and also wore a look of guilt. Y/N kissed Emma’s forehead. “Accidents just happen.”

But Emma’s little shoulders still shook with quiet sobs and Y/N felt awful for her baby girl. Patrick started to lift her arm slightly and Emma let out a painful cry. Dean stepped up behind Patrick, and his voice was hard with authority.

“Be careful what you’re doing.” He scolded.

Patrick just nodded. “Yes sir. I just need to try and figure out how the bone is broken, so I can splint it properly.”

As the medic/soldier poked and prodded as gently as he could, Emma continued to cry and buried her face in Y/N’s chest. Accepting that his soldier was being as careful as he could, Dean stopped hovering over him and moved around to stand behind Emma instead, rubbing soothing circles over her skinny back.

Finally Patrick nodded. “I think it’s a greenstick fracture. I’m gonna get a splint to hold it in place.”

He walked away to a sideboard that had medical paraphernalia sitting on it. As he did, however, Cas walked into the tent. Y/N looked up at the angel, and was taken aback by the way he was staring at Emma. His expression was cautious and a little frightened as he approached her.

“It’s a broken arm.” Y/N explained and he just nodded.

“Emma,” he said quietly, “hold still okay. I think,” he glanced at Y/N and then Dean, “I think I can fix you.”

“Cas?” Dean asked, clearly confused.

The angel lifted his hand over Emma’s arm and for a moment it just looked like he was going to grab hold of it. But suddenly, a white light began to grow beneath his palm and his already blue eyes glowed bright, like blue flame.

Y/N held her breath, as seconds later, the light left his eyes and he pulled his hand away. Emma’s eyes became wide and then she clapped happily. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Mommy!”

Y/N tried to smile at her daughter, but her eyes fell on Cas, and Dean asked the question uppermost in her mind.

“What the hell, Cas? Since when can you heal anymore?” He shook his head. “What…what does this mean?”

Cas’ face was serious, and the fear Y/N had seen before was still there as he answered.

“I’m afraid that…I think it means the other angels have returned.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

#endverse!dean x reader #endverse!dean #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #endverse!dean fan fic #endverse!dean series #spn fan fic series

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thosewickedlovelies · 2 days

Text

it's where I belong

Summary: Rancher Boy!Javier Peña’s queer awakening

Tags: bisexual Javier Peña (although his identity is not explicitly stated); the bartender ships it; javier peña x OMC

Words: 1,937

Note: Title (and general inspo for this installment) is taken from the song Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan. You don't have to read the rest of Rancher Boys for this to make sense, but you should bc it's great 😌 Happy pride :)

Masterlist

Once, Javier Peña walked into a bar in June.

It wasn’t that kind of bar. Or at least, he hadn’t thought it was. But looking around, he noticed a lot of people who seemed…sparkly, somehow. And affectionate. And there, on the back wall by the pool tables, hung a large, rainbow-striped flag, fluttering over the bricks.

“Can I get you anything?” A bartender appeared in his line of sight.

Javier tore his gaze from the flag.

“Whiskey, on the rocks.”

The bartender adjusted her cutoff flannel while the card machine booted up. It was tied beneath her chest, and the edges of a tattoo snaked along her ribs, the finer details blending into skin darker than Javi’s.

As Javi took out his card, he started, “Is this a…a bar for…”

Lord only knew what he thought he was trying to say. Thankfully, the bartender took pity on him. “A gay bar?”

“…Yeah.”

“Not explicitly. ‘We’re friendly to all’,” the woman quoted pointedly. She pushed a coaster toward him with that very declaration stamped beneath a depiction of a familiar sign. Friendly’s, read the green neon loops- the same as the ones above the door he’d entered through.

Ah.

“We just like to make sure everyone knows.” Her head tilted. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Javier said.

After a beat, the bartender relaxed. “There’s not usually this much rainbow stuff in here. But we always go big for pride month.”

“Pride month?” Belatedly, Javi recalled the rainbow logos and merchandise that he’d noticed appearing over the past few days. Because it was…June? “Oh.”

The bartender had stepped back to dry some clean glasses. Now she smiled slightly, turning to face him. “You new in town?”

From a booth near the pool table, several voices rose in chorus with a soulful pop song playing from the speakers. Five sets of masculine shoulders swayed; they exhibited not a shred of self-consciousness. The bartender sent them a fond look.

“Temporarily. I’m here for a few weeks on business, with my pa.” Javi sipped his whiskey, the burn a warm, familiar comfort.

“Workin’ hard, then,” she deadpanned.

Before Javier could reply, her face softened, all her attention diverted to a second woman that had appeared beside him, leaning over the bar. Her black sequined top let out a spill of cleavage that Javi quickly averted his gaze from.

“Hola, mi amor,” the second woman cooed.

“Hola, nena.” The bartender set down her work and met the woman over the bar top with a lingering kiss.

“Puedo tomar una bebida? Tengo mucho sed,” the woman purred. Can I have a drink? I’m so thirsty. But it wasn’t any of the bottles behind the bar that claimed her attention. Her eyes danced up and down the bartender’s body, gleaming.

She angled Javi a sharp, appraising glance. Javi met her gaze, then deliberately looked away, sipping his drink. Satisfied, she sat back on her stool.

The bartender, after extracting another kiss from the woman, brought her a glass of something clear and full of ice, and Javier listened to them talk. About their days, about their friend’s new cat, about what to have for dinner tomorrow. They sounded like every other couple Javier had ever known. They could have been Steve and Connie, if Steve and Connie knew anyone who would adopt a hairless cat or complained about gringos clogging up their favorite taco place.

Two of the men in the booth embraced when the song they’d been singing ended. One of their friends threw a fry at them, dramatically lamenting his own singlehood. Javi looked down and swirled the ice cube remaining in his glass, feeling simultaneously alone and strangely reluctant to leave.

The bartender reappeared in front of him. “Another whiskey?”

Clearing his throat, Javier straightened. “No, I shouldn’t. Thank you.” He made to stand and don his sunglasses

“Come back anytime. A lot of nice people come in this time of year.”

Javi gave a nod to her and then to her partner. The woman smiled in return, and Javier left the rainbow flags rippling behind him.

—

Twice, Javier Peña walked into a bar in June.

It wasn’t that kind of bar, but you wouldn’t know it looking around. The place was full of bubbly, happy people of every appearance on the gender spectrum, and some off the spectrum besides. Rainbow was too limited of a word to describe the variety of colors on flags.

All the same, it felt…relaxed. Homey. Pool balls cracked from a trio of tables. Too-big groups squashed into booths, giggling over knocked elbows and pressed-together thighs. Dancing broke out sporadically, the odd couple swaying alone or groups unable to resist the combination of the music playing and the contents of their glasses.

“Oye, whiskey boy!” The bartender Javi had met before popped up behind the counter in front of him. “Nice to see you again. The same on the rocks?”

Tonight she could have been mistaken for a college bartender, in a t-shirt snipped and tied to within an inch of its life. Glitter streaked her long black braids. Javier couldn’t help but wonder if her more feminine partner had had a hand in either statement. Tonight the bartender’s eyes were wide and bright, as if absorbing the energy in the bar and reflecting it back.

“Just a beer, thanks.”

Javi found a stool near the end of the bar, bottle in hand. He didn’t really have a plan of any kind. He could, technically, take someone back to his hotel room, but he didn’t relish the thought of his [pops] potentially seeing them leave tomorrow morning. He wasn’t in the market to make friends. His usual play was to nurse a few drinks while people-watching alone, but somehow that felt…wrong, here.

Or maybe it was Javier who was wrong. This place sure felt like a gay bar tonight, and he didn’t really have a place in one of those. Everyone else seemed to have friends and lovers and grins on their faces. What was he doing here, besides bringing the mood down with his brooding?

“You’re looking at that bottle like it’s about to break your heart.”

Javier looked up (and up, and up) at a man with desert-blond hair sticking out from under a Texas A&M ballcap. He was good-looking, Javi supposed, and dressed pretty normally if you didn’t count the sinfully tight fit of his shirt. He might have been one of few people in the bar besides Javi himself who didn’t have rhinestones somewhere on their person. Fine lines were just visible at the corners of his eyes, so it might have been his rangy build- or maybe the openness of his smile- that made him look young.

All of Javi's dependable wittiness seemed to have fled. His mouth quirked by muscle memory. “Nah, beer’s about the only thing that hasn’t broken my heart,” Javi tried.

The younger man laughed. “Can I get you another one, then?”

And so Javi allowed himself to be drawn into conversation with the man. Jason, his name was. The bartender gave him a friendly nod as she deposited their drinks- he must have been a regular here. It was nice, talking to someone- about himself, about Jason, about nothing at all. This kind of…companionship, however brief it would end up being, was something Javier hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

He relaxed into it. Into the comfortable, friendly atmosphere of the bar. Javi wasn’t blind. He saw the admiration in the younger (for he was indeed slightly younger) man’s eyes, heard the comments that tiptoed just this side of flirtatious. He didn’t discourage it. Why would he? It felt like it’d been a damn long time since Javier had been so enjoyed.

And he found himself enjoying Jason in return. There was a warmth, an awareness prickling in Javi’s chest that he recognized. It spread the longer they sat and talked, sparked in his fingers, the ends of his hair. It felt like…something loosening in him. Some knot unraveling that he hadn’t ever acknowledged was there.

As the night wound down, though- as their knees bumped and their laughter came warmer- Javier felt the knot drawing tighter again. He came to a decision. Quickly, gruffly, he confessed: he’d never done this before. He hadn’t set out find someone like this, didn’t want Jason to feel used- but Javi did want him. Had he mentioned that part?

As Javi half-stood from his stool, breathing hard, mouth dry, Jason’s look of surprise melted into something else. He placed his hand on Javi’s knee. Jason’s warm smile set fire to Javier, and the knot in his chest turned to ash and flaked away.

—

There was more than one knot to his fears, Javier would discover. There was a whole web, intricately tangled and connected to subjects he would have never imagined. Some of the knots he picked at thoroughly, taking the time to smooth every kink (ahem) in their connecting cords. Some, he would realize, during the course of his research, were actually stupid, and these he excised without a second thought. Others, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to undo completely.

But that was for future-Javi to worry about. Present-Javi was tangled in much more pleasant things, like bedsheets and Jason’s unexpectedly strong arms. They spent many long, long nights together over the next few weeks. A few mornings, too, making Chucho raise his eyebrows upon seeing his son dash back through the hotel to shower, shirt buttoned askew and sweat still gleaming on his neck.

It was a dizzying fling. But Jason was a good teacher, and Javi had never been one to shy from a challenge. By the end he’d have Jason flush-faced and gasping, making jokes like “my best student” and “Remind me to bring you a gold star next time”.

Javi didn’t remind him, of course, and Jason didn’t bring any gold stars.

He brought something else.

“I got you a present,” he said, and Javi did a double take.

“What?”

“I mean, it’s just a little thing, they sell them everywhere during pride month, and I just thought…” Jason shrugged, fidgeting bashfully, and held out his hand.

In it sat a small pin in the shape of a waving flag. Its rainbow stripes were unmistakable. Javi stared at it, his throat constricting. Slowly, he took it from Jason’s palm, the metal cool against his fingertips.

“You got me a pride pin.”

“You don’t have to wear it, or put it anywhere visible, obviously. I just thought…to remember me by. To remember yourself by.” Jason looked up from under his lashes then. Whatever else Javier took from their time together, Jason wanted him to remember the significant conversations they’d had.

Emotion swelled unexpectedly in Javier’s chest. He reached out, wrapped his fingers in Jason’s hair, and tugged him closer. Jason accepted his kiss with a sigh of pleasure, and they spent the next several minutes memorizing each other’s taste, the feel of their bodies pressed together, warm and firm.

Finally they parted, lips swollen, breath mingling. “Thank you,” Javier said, voice rough. “I’ll remember.”

He didn’t wear the pin. But he put it in his pocket, and it gave him a little jolt every time the edges poked him.

–

Their paths didn't cross again. But Javi takes the rainbow pin with him everywhere he travels, and on a ranch in Tennessee, he takes it out and studies it. He thinks of a man, and a woman, and another flag striped in red, blue, and black.

Thanks for reading :) ♥️♥️

Dividers by strangergraphics

#javier peña fic #narcos fic #javier peña x omc #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pride fic

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sitp-recs · 8 days

Note

Do you know Drarry fics that contain Harry/OMC and/or Draco/OMC? I love me a blank slate rival love interest🤣

Hi anon! Happy to help (despite detesting love triangles myself 🤣). Here are some recs off the top of my head:

Vanishing Cabinets by Romaine (E, 18k)

Take one Wizarding Family Values politician who has a secret life, and add one Auror who detests discrimination of any type, but becomes a bit obsessed with said politician, and you have enough sparks to ignite a Beltane fire.

(The Piece) I was Missing All Along by lauren3210 (E, 30k)

Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way. But when something comes along and threatens to take all that away, Draco has to decide what it is he really wants, and just how hard he's going to work to get it.

Here's The Pencil, Make It Work by ignatiustrout (E, 49k)

Harry thinks "Why is Malfoy working in a coffee shop in muggle London?" is a much simpler question than, "Are you going to accept that auror offer and, if you don't, what will you do?"

Modern Love by tackytiger (E, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

Left My Heart by emmagrant01 (E, 85k)

Auror Draco Malfoy has disappeared, and Harry Potter has been sent to San Francisco to find him.

Grounds for Divorce by Tepre (E, 122k)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter. A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

A Secondary Education by Thunderbird587 (E, 234k)

Fleeing the aftermath of his recent divorce, Draco Malfoy takes up a post as the new Potions Master at Hogwarts. At first he believes his hopes for a fresh start are dashed when he sees that a certain boyhood rival is on staff there as well. But Harry Potter is being weirdly nice to him, leaving Draco no choice but to play along.

#asks #anon #drarry reclist #Harry/omc #Draco/omc

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fieldofdaisiies · 6 months

Note

hi hi i love your writing so much so i was rereading the beauty of intimacy and i was wondering how you think azriel would react if it was because she’s been touched without wanting it?

it’s totally okay if you don’t feel comfortable writing this please ignore and delete it🫶🏼

I decided to do headcanons/drabble style for this; thank you for sending in this idea💛

First of all, Azriel and you will have many talks. Sometimes you will talk for hours, sometimes he will only listen, letting you tell him everything. You feel comfortable enough to open up to him, but not you don't feel ready to tell him everything from the beginning on.

He will hold you in his arms, if you want to, making even providing a protective cocoon with his wings wrapped around the both of you.

He will gently stroke your back, offerings words of comfort.

"No one will ever harm you again." His voice is gentle, soothing and brings you comfort. "I will always protect you. I love you, and you are always safe with me."

Azriel will always give you enough space and time to share everything about your past and what happened to you with him, but not won't pressure you into sharing it.

He will also promise to cause the people who hurt you, touched you without you giving your consent, a very slow and painful death.

"You tell me whenever you are ready." He kisses your brow. "I love you and whatever you will share with me won’t change anything about how much I love you."

Once you have opened up, he lets you decide when you want to discuss intimacy.

It takes you some time.

But once you feel comfortable to talk about it, you will sit down together and discuss it, everything.

Azriel will listen, holding your hand, not omce letting go.

He assures you that you will commence at your pace, whenever ypu are ready.

And will also tell you that you will have control. Always. If you want to do something, you will do so, if you want to stop, he will stop immediately.

"It is your choice. Always." Azriel gives your hand a gentle squeeze. "We commence whenever you are ready. And if you tell me to stop I will stop immediately."

You also want Azriel to share the things he likes in bed. At first, he will be a bit reluctant about it, hesitant, unsure if he can truly share those things.

But you assure him that it is alright, and so he will open up and let you in, telling you that he is into certain things.

You are happy that he trusts you and let you in, and though he doesn’t expect you to try out those things, you think with time you will maybe be ready for them.

But not yet.

Now everything is about love making and you being able to enjoy intimacy.

You are unsure - what if you are never able to enjoy intimacy again? What if you are always worried? Scared?

Azriel assures you that you will enjoy it, that he will do everything in his power to make you feel good, for you to find it enjoyable

He won’t undress you until you tell him you would like it, and when you do, he will be so careful and gentle it makes your eyes fill with tears.

"Breathtaking," Azriel whispers into the silence of the room and runs a finger over your cleavage, before kissing your forehaed. "You are beautiful, my love." He slowly peels off the last pieces of clothing and then lets you decide if you want to close the distance between the two of or if you need so space. You slowly move closet to him, and kiss him.

He lets you have control, ypu are the one guiding the two of you to the bed. And he lets you undress him, explore his body.

Azriel also gives you the choice if you want to be on top or he should be.

You let him be, knowing he will be soft and gentle and most importantly careful.

Only after asking for permission and your consent once again does he place the tip of his cock against your entrance, slowly pushing in, only the tip. He gives you time to adjust to the feel of him, the slight painful stretch.

He always offers you words of comfort and sweet compliments.

"You are perfect," Azriel whispes and kisses your brow, easing into you a bit more. "My wonderful mate, I couldn’t love any more."

When he hears you whimper, he stops, letting you decide when he should continue.

Once fully seated, he pulls out, and pushes back in, then makes love to you, slowly gently, mouth never leaving yours, fingers stroking your skin.

He won’t be rough or fast the first time you sleep together.

He wants to bring you pleasure, show you how beautiful intimacy is. Wants to find comfort in and love for this beautiful act of two souls connecting.

When you come he guides you through your high.

And before he comes he will of course ask you where.

Later, he will help you clean up and then dress you in soft pyjamas, before tucking you in bed with him, kissing your head softly.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel acotar

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 9 months

Text

In Plain Sight: Fresh Starts

Summary: The reader and Crew have been living with her parents temporarily while they decide where to live. But Crew may enjoy the convenience of having family close by more than she anticipated...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x daughter!reader (with lots of daughter!reader x OMC)

Word Count: 2,500ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Enjoy!

______

“And up!” Laughed Crew as he tossed your little brother up into the air, Zeppelin laughing loudly as Crew caught him in his arms.

“Again!” he pleaded, Crew doing it once more. “Again, Crew!”

“Sorry little bro but it’s time for bed,” he said, Zepp whining when Crew settled him in his hip. “Come on. I let you stay up late if you promised to go to bed when I said so.”

“Fine,” he groaned, Crew chuckling as he gave you a wave and carried him upstairs. You were still grinning on the couch when he returned ten minutes later.

“What’s that look for, kid?” asked Crew as he plopped down next to you, throwing his arm over your shoulders. You only smirked and pushed him to lay flat on his back, Crew’s eyes darkening when you straddled his hips.

“I love watching you with my siblings. You’re so good with them,” you murmured, leaning down to kiss him.

“My siblings too,” he whispered, closing his eyes when you gripped his hands, pushing them back by either side of his head. “If that’s okay.”

“My silly boy,” you whispered, kissing under his jaw and near his ear just where he liked it. “What’d I tell you about asking dumb questions?”

“I’m a work in progress,” he grunted out, chuckling lightly. “Don’t be all sweet when you’re on top of me.”

“But it turns me on seeing you all happy and loved by your family,” you teased. You gave his hands a squeeze, rocking your hips down against him.

“Ugh. Fine,” he groaned, snapping his hips up when you ground your knee against him. He whimpered when you did it again. And again. “Fuck Y/N.”

You had your tongue halfway down his throat when you heard another throat clear. Your eyes darted upwards and were met with a pair of smirks.

“That’s my girl,” said your dad with a chuckle as you practically jumped backwards off of Crew.

“Excuse me but that is my girl,” said your mom. Crew sat up with his back to them, staring at you with pleading eyes. “Crew, sweetie. Relax. I’d be more concerned if you two weren’t trying to get frisky.”

“Thank you, mother. Honey,” you said, shoving a throw pillow over his crotch and grabbing his hand, dragging the two of you down to your room.

“Make smart choices!” teased your dad.

“We so need our own place again,” you sighed, locking the door shut after the two of you. Crew plopped back in the bed with a tired grin. “What?”

“I’ve kinda liked being here the past month. Your side of the house is pretty private to be fair.” You shrugged, reaching behind yourself to take off your bra, climbing into bed beside him.

“Yeah but in our own place, I can walk around without a bra on which is a benefit for the both of us,” you said, rolling onto your side. You propped your head up against your hand, Crew smirking as he glanced down at your shirt. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Yes,” he said, trailing a finger over the thin cotton of your shirt. “But isn’t it nice to be around people too?”

You watched him trace his finger down further, stopping at the hem of your shirt, tickling the patch of exposed skin.

“Babe. We’re married. I liked when we had our thing. You and me, figuring it all out.” He frowned, pulling back his hand. He had his head turned towards you, eyes glancing downwards, away from your own. “Crew. This is supposed to be temporary while we figure out where we want to live.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I just…”

“I know, babe,” you whispered, inching closer, wrapping your arms around him. “I promise no matter where we go, whether that’s the same city as them or not, you’re not losing them. You’ll always have them.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, kissing your forehead. “I do like when you don’t wear a bra though.”

“See? Lot of perks of us having our own place,” you chuckled. “So want to try house hunting again tomorrow?”

“Yeah. By the time we get something lined up it’ll be awhile anyways,” he said, sliding his hand down to your hip. “In the meantime, I can think of a few ways to keep you thoroughly entertained.”

“I bet you can.”

One Week Later

“Relax,” you said to Crew, rubbing his back at the dinner table. You were having a late night drink with your parents and you could tell Crew was having second thoughts about telling them where you’d decided to move.

“We did have one more bottle of that red you like, sweetie,” said your mom, carrying it into the room, cracking it open and pouring a few glasses.

“Thanks,” you said, your dad re-entering with a glass of bourbon in hand. “So we’ve decided on our living situation.”

“Oh you have?” asked your mom. “There’s no rush guys.”

Your dad cleared his throat, giving her a look which surprised you. You’d never gotten a vibe that he had a problem with you and Crew staying there.

“Well there is a slight rush,” said your dad, your parents sharing a look. “Now’s as good a time as any. Mom and I have decided for several reasons that we too would like to move. I want to be somewhere closer to work and these days that means near Toronto for the new show I just signed onto.”

“So the northeast?” you asked, Crew giving you a surprised look. You’d chosen downstate New York as it was close to the city for Crew to get any flight he needed or do work and you had plenty of career opportunities with the business there. Plus he was close to Canada for any work he got there which was just as likely a place as any these days.

“Yeah. Everyone loves seeing real seasons and we think it’ll be a good change. Mom and I have lived in the middle of the country and the west coast so we want to give the east a chance. We’ve been working with a realtor and are going to head out this weekend to view some places if you guys wouldn’t mind watching the gremlins.”

“Of course not,” said Crew, sitting up in his chair. “Where uh, specifically in the northeast?”

They shared a look and smiled. “Not too far from Uncle Jeff and Aunt Hilarie. Same town, maybe a five minute drive. We love it out there whenever we go-”

Crew was beaming, your dad staring at him like he was nuts. “Uh. Crew? What’s going on buddy?”

“That’s where we want to move! Well, close enough, maybe like twenty minutes away, but that’s where we picked cause I have that movie in New York and Y/N has countless options for work,” said Crew, your parents giving you a big smile.

“You guys are really…” trailed off your mom as you nodded. She shrieked and popped out of her seat, rushing over to hug you.

“That’s amazing,” said your dad, giving Crew a hug and then you. “We had a plan to convince you guys to come to the east coast and everything so you’d at least be close.”

“Well, we may want to crash with you guys until we find our own place,” you said, glancing at Crew. “If that’s cool.”

“Of course,” said your mom. “We’ll figure it all out. Promise.”

One Month Later

“Oh there’s a little creek behind the house too,” said Crew as you settled in for dinner at your parents' new place in New York. While they’d been busy with moving, you and Crew had focused on trying to find a place of your own nearby. They had a bit more land and open space than either of you were looking for which meant your home search was on the other side of town. But a fifteen minute drive was more than okay with Crew if that meant you got a view of the valley.

“You’ll have to send us the listing,” said your mom, dishing up some food onto your siblings plates. “You guys sure you don’t want to look at the options over here? Our realtor found some really nice places that were smaller. Perfect for just you two.”

“Eh, maybe. I have to be gone for about a month soon and there’s more houses around that side of town. I don’t want Y/N to have to be alone in a big house by herself,” he said. Your dad leaned over to your mom, whispering something in her ear that had her nodding.

“You know the property here is pretty big…we could sell you guys off a parcel of land over the hill…let you build so you’re close but not too close. Y/N’s going to be alone quiet a bit unless she comes with you on projects and once kids come into the picture, that’ll get harder. We know from experience,” said your dad.

“We need to talk about it. That would definitely mean staying here a bit longer,” you said, Crew shrugging.

“Is that such a terrible thing?” he asked as Zepp shook his shoulder. He smiled and helped your brother cut up his chicken, quickly getting pulled into doing it for Arrow too.

“We’ll look at the land tomorrow,” you said, shoving some food into your mouth. “Oh, I got a job lined up by the way. At least to do promotional work.”

“Oh really? Already in the city?” asked your mom as everyone started to dive into their meals.

“Toronto. It’s only one week,” said Crew, nudging your shoulder. “You didn’t tell them?”

They raised their eyebrows and you smiled. “It’s uh, for a showrunner dad is friends with. I don’t have details but-”

“It’s for my new show,” sighed your dad. “I told him you want to work jobs in the city, not another country.”

“It’s right there,” scoffed Crew. “And it’s only for the promo. It’ll give Y/N and me a chance to see how we do long distance in the short term so we know how to make things work in the future when they get messier.”

“Don’t have good points, child,” said your dad, pointing his fork at Crew. Crew only beamed though, your dad shaking his head. “Alright, alright. You guys have a plan it sounds like. I assume you’re crashing with me then?”

“If my loving father doesn’t mind?” you asked, putting on your best puppy-dog look. He rolled his eyes, your mom tsking him.

“I got a one bedroom lined up already. Don’t complain about sleeping on a pull out couch,” he said, taking an extra large bite of salad. “I was never naked on Supernatural. Why couldn’t you work on that show? First the show with bedroom scenes galore and then this? I swear I’m cursed.”

“Maybe you just like taking your shirt off,” teased your mom. You groaned as they started to playfully tease each other.

“Please tell me that won’t be us,” you mumbled to Crew. He laughed, leaning closer.

“Pretty sure that’s going to be exactly us, kid. I mean, you did pretty much eye fuck me the moment we met. It’s like you wanted to get caught,” he whispered.

“In your dreams, Foxe.”

“Every single one of them,” he said with a wink. You blushed, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. “We don’t have to live so close-”

“I don’t mind. You went too long without a family. I want you to have them nearby.” He pecked a kiss to your lips, your younger siblings groaning. “But we can wait awhile for kids.”

“Agreed,” he chuckled. A voice cleared, your dad shaking his head.

“If y’all are going to make out like it very much looks like, can you do it in private? I’d like to have one moment of peace in my meal,” said your dad.

“Such a diva,” you and your mom said, Crew nearly spitting out his drink when he tried to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah. Well he’s a diva in training then,” said your dad, nodding at Crew.

After dinner, your dad pulled him aside out on the patio, your mom bumping your hip while you helped her wash up. “What’s up?”

“Dad’s having a chat with your husband about how to deal with being long distance which you probably will be sometimes. But take our advice and try to go together when you can at this age. You can’t get the time back,” she said. You slowly dried your hands off, watching them out the back window.

“I know. I’m only doing the promo stuff and then Kripke’s going to help me get in a good set in the city he said. I’ll only be gone a week or so. Crew’s been alone enough in his life. I want him to be able to come home to someone at night or drive down the road and pop in here and hang out for awhile. He’s already decided once we do have kids someday, he’ll only take projects in New York, no matter what so he can be there for us. He can work and I’ll shift into freelance photography and-”

“That’s a nice plan and all,” she laughed. “But it’s gonna change. He’s gonna get a job offer he loves that’s halfway across the country and you’re gonna tell him to go because it makes him so happy. You’ll learn what works best for you both. The only advice I can give is talk. Never stop talking, even the days you’re both exhausted. You are not in his shadow just because he’s famous. Your dreams matter as much as his.”

“He thinks mine matter more actually,” you said, glancing down.

“That’s why we know he’s a good one. He’s a good boy,” she said giving you a hug you happily returned. “Plus it’s such a turn on when a big strong guy is more than willing to be on bottom-”

“Thank you for the thoughtful moment and emotional scarring mother!” you said, quickly walking away. “I’ll try to forget that ever happened!”

You walked outside, Crew as white as a ghost, your dad ruffling your head as he slipped inside. “Honey? You okay?”

“Some things stay between a man and his father-in-law,” mumbled Crew, shaking his head out. “Are you good? I saw you talking to your mom.”

“Yeah, just getting some advice,” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Caught you.”

He chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “I guess you did Mrs. Foxe. Lucky me.”

________

#jensen ackles #jensen x daughter!reader #jensen x daughter!reader series #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #series

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flamencodiva · 5 months

Text

Prologue

Description: Dean Winchester is slated to be the next Alpha of his pack. As with all Wolves, Dean is waiting to see who his mate is at 18. But when he doesn't find her within his pack, he wonders if he will ever have a mate at all. On the brink of going feral, Dean is sent away from his pack to search for his mate. He can only return once he's found her, or he must take on a chosen mate. Y/N is the daughter of the current Moon Goddess, Selene. Hidden from the mortal realm after an attack on the moon kingdom, Y/N has heard a lonely howl for the past ten years since she turned 18. When unexpected circumstances force her to leave her current home, will she be able to find the lonely wolf and help heal him?

Pairing: Shifter-Wolf!Dean Winchester x Shifter-Wolf!Female!Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Benny Laffite, Castiel, Garth, John Winchester, Mary Winchester, Bobby Singer, Henry Winchester (in flashbacks), Nick (Lucifer), OMC Luke, Jack, OMC Zack, and many more!

Word Count: 2105

Warnings (For entire fic): Violence, Language, Sexual Content (Smut of all kinds).

This A/B/O is more werewolf centered than A/B/O-centered. I hope you all enjoy the world I have created through this fic. All characters, unless stated otherwise, are shifter-wolf. It is a world/lore that I stumbled upon and found myself wanting to write.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The full moon was high in the sky as it shone down onto the pack gathering below. Sixteen year old Dean Winchester stood with other his age as their bodies bagan to shift. His bones began to break and rearrange as tufts of shiny grey fur began to appear. He groaned in pain as his family stood near him and encouraged him to not fight the change.

‘Just breath son,” his father, John Winchester soothed.

“Just take deep breaths and let your wolf take over, Dean.”

His mother, Mary Winchester, had instructed. He could only nod as his face began to change. His nose and jaw elongated to grow a snout and he found himself on his arms and legs as they changed into paws. It didn’t take long before he competed his shift and allowed his wolf spirit, Shadow, take control.

‘Woah,’ Dean said as his vision sharpened.

“Let us celebrate our children and the emergence of their wolves!” John’s voice roared as everyone sexteen asnd older began shifting.

The entire pack ran as one through the forest that was a part of their territory. Dean was at the lead with not just his parents but with the rest of the adults that made up his father and mother’s Alpha and Luna units. His best friend Benny Lafeitte was slated to be his Beta. Castiel Novak was to be his Gamma and the one to help calm and keep him intune with his Luna. And lastly Garth Fitzgerald III who would take on the Delta position.

The Silver Moon pack was one of the proudest and strongest packs in the area. John and Mary Winchester watched as their son rolled around in wolf form, playing with their second son, Twelve-year-old Sam.

“The pups are growing up fast,” John said as he looked at his wife.

“They are,” she sighed, placing her head on his shoulder, “do you think they’ll find good mates?”

“I think so.”

“Dean will have to start training with you as an Alpha,” Mary reminded him.

“He’ll make a great Alpha, my love,” John turned his head to kiss the top of his mate’s, “look at how he is with Sam and his friends. He will make sure our Pack stays strong.”

two years later,

Dean fixed his hair again. Today he would find his mate. When pack members turned eighteen, they would be brought together at the pack house to find their mates. Essentially it became one big party.

‘Gotta find mate,’ his wolf Shadow whined.

“We will,” Dean chuckled, “besides, who knows, it might be that we already found and sampled our mate,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

‘No mate, not yet. Can’t sense her,’ Shadow huffed.

Dean rolled his eyes before turning to the door to see Sam leaning against the frame.

“How come I can’t go!” he whined, “I mean, I know I haven’t shifted yet but why can’t I find my mate?”

“Sam,” Dean placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “you have plenty of time. Besides, it’s only four more years. What’s your rush?”

“I know, my mate,” the young teen said, shrugging his shoulders.

“You do?” Dean raised his eyebrow at his brother, “who?”

“Jessica Moore,” Sam whispered, lowering his head in embarrassment.

“Jess? Your mate is Jess? How do you know?” Dean asked.

“Swift could sense it.”

“You know you can’t know for sure until you’re 18, Sam.”

“But Dean, I’ve read in some of the books that some mates can sense they are mates before they’re 18. It’s not all that uncommon.”

“Sam,” Dean said giving his brother a warning glare. “You know the rules. You have to wait until your first shift and on the full moon of your 18th birthday to know for sure.”

“Fine,” his little brother grumbled and threw himself on the bed. “Can you feel your mate near by?”

“No,” Dean admitted. “But who knows, she might have been hiding from me. Or, it just takes me and shadow the full moon to feel them.”

Dean sighed as he watched his brother through is mirror as he continued to get ready. He couldn’t help but feel jealous. His brother’s wolf had already found his mate before he was eighteen. It wasn’t fair. Here he was, the future Alpha, and his mate had not surfaced. Or at least he couldn’t sense her in the pack.

Meanwhile, his brother, barely of legal age, could already sense his mate. He couldn’t help but feel jealous. His wolf let out a whimper before Dean shook his head.

“Then, in four years, you and Jess can make sure you belong together,” Dean cleared his throat, “this is a rite of passage, Sam. So hopefully, my mate is out there, and the Goddess Selene blesses me tonight.”

With that said, Dean gave his brother’s shoulder a soft pat before making his way down the stairs of the packhouse. He could hear his mother ordering people around to prepare one of the large rooms.

“No, no,” he heard her cry in frustration.

“The food needs to be placed in the next room. The main room is for dancing and mingling.”

“Mom,” Dean made his presence known, “don’t you think this is a bit… much?”

“Nonsense,” she dismissed him, “not every day your eldest is of age to find his mate. Besides, you know I do anything for you boys.”

“You really think I’m gonna find my mate tonight?” Dean huffed.

“Why not? I saw you and Cassie were together three summers ago,” she pointed out as she continued to direct older pack members around the house to help set up.

“But that doesn’t mean she’s my mate,” Dean shrugged, “how did you know dad was yours?”

Mary blushed and turned to her son, “I just knew. And so did your father. Our wolves just felt this connection given to us by the Goddess.”

“What if my mate isn’t here?” Dean asked, his fingers playing with a loose thread on his shirt.

“Then she will find her way to you,” Mary placed her hands on either side of her son’s face, lifting his gaze to hers. “You will find your mate Dean. You just have to trust that the Goddess has a plan.”

Dean nodded before taking her hands in his and giving his mother a kiss on her cheek. Turning away from the planning, he noticed Sam near their father’s study, his brother giving off a low growl.

“What’s wrong, Sammy?” Dean whispered.

“Dad’s got the council in there. I heard something about rogues near our border.”

“What?”

Dean stepped closer to the door, his senses tingling as he tried his best to use his wolf hearing. Much of what was being said was muffled, but he could make out a few words. He and many of his friends are mainly undergoing extra training in the next few weeks.

“Do you think it’s Lucifer?” John sighed.

“Is that what Nicks's runt is calling himself,” a voice called out, “Idjit.”

Dean recognized the voice as Bobby Singer, one of the pack’s elders. Bobby had come to join their pack around the time his father, John, was just a young pup. He remembered his dad talking about Bobby being one of the best warrior trainers he had ever seen. Dean heard stories of Bobby having a son once, but the elder never liked to talk about it.

“The rogues seem to be from Nick’s pack, and Luke seems to be leading the charge,” John sighed, “but all we can do is double that guard. Whatever he’s doing, we will need to find out.”

“We need to beef up training, John,” Bobby sighed. “I’m too old for this.”

John chuckled, “my dad trusted you, and our warriors are strong because of you. Benny is set to take over for Hypolite.”

John’s heavy footsteps could be heard from the other side of the door. Dean could tell his father was worried. He only paced in his office when he needed to think of a solution to a problem.

Dean and Sam continued to try and eavesdrop on the conversation when the door cracked open.

“You know,” their father’s voice started them, “if you wanted to know what was going on, Dean, all you had to do was knock.”

Dean stood up and gave his father a sheepish smile.

“Well--”

“Samuel,” John huffed, “you know better than to sneak around. If I wanted you to know, you would know.”

“But dad! How come Dean gets to go to all the Alpha meetings? I’m an Alpha too!”

John placed a gentle hand on his youngest son’s shoulder, “Dean is going to be Pack Alpha one day. He is of age. He’s been training for this just as you have. Right now, I need you to be a kid and enjoy not having to worry about his”

“No fair. I can fight and be helpful!” Sam growled.

“I know you can, pup,” John ruffled his youngest son’s hair. “I promise when the time comes, you can help.

Sam frowned and stomped his way up the spiral staircase to his room, grumbling along the way.

“He’s trying to grow up too fast,” John sighed.

“He’ll get over it once he gets back into training mode,” Dean assured his father, “is it serious? The rogues on our borders?”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” John dismissed, “tonight you find your mate.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed as his father walked away, “if she’s even here.”

The guests arrived with Dean hanging out with his friends, Benny Lafitte, Castiel Novak, and Garth Fitzgerald III.

“Excuze me, Boyz,” Benny said as he pulled away from his friends, “seem’z Red and I have zeroed in on our mate.”

“Already?” Castiel huffed, “how the --”

Dean watched as Cas stopped talking and turned towards the front door.

“I, um… I gotta--”

Garth and Dean watched as Benny and Cas walked toward their mates. The couples seem to fall into easy conversation.

“Don’t worry, Deano,” Garth gave the Alpha a slap on his back, almost making him choke on his drink, “I’m sure the next girl to walk in will be your--”

Dean covered his face with his hands as Garth clumsily tripped over his feet at the next female that walked in. Garth had stumbled into not just the table the boys were standing by, but the following tables lined up with the front door.

“Sorry, my bad!” Garth called out as he stumbled his way toward the female.

As the night went on, Dean watched as his friends and peers paired off with their mates. It hurt that his own mate hadn’t shown herself yet. By the end, Dean was left alone, his head hung low as he walked towards the balcony overlooking the valley.

The moon shone so brightly that its rays illuminated every corner of the pack's territory. Dean finished off the last of his drink before turning his gaze to the moon. Shadow could feel Dean’s pain. After all, he and Dean were one and the same. Their pain resonated so profoundly that Dean let Shadow take over as a mournful howl echoed through the sky.

‘Goddess hear my plea,’ it seemed to say, ‘let my mate find me soon.’

Little did Dean and Shadow know that in the realm of the Moon Goddess, the goddess herself had heard his cry.

“Dean Winchester,” she said, her voice a whisper as the howl echoed in the halls of her palace. “When the time comes, your mate will find you,” she said to the wind. “Strong heir of the Silver Moon Pack, your trials are just beginning. My Conor’s sacrifice to keep our daughter safe will not be in vain. I hope you can be patient.”

She walked to her room, away from the enormous mirror in her chambers, where the reflection of Dean sank.

This was to ensure the safety of her daughter, Y/N. The wolf, who claimed the name Lucifer, was no match for Conor's valiant efforts. The death of Selene's mate was ultimately felt by her. Her first concern was ensuring the safety of Y/N. Meeting Dean was still too soon for her. The young Alpha had to face his own struggles as her daughter trained.

A second reflecting pool was entered by the moon goddess's palm. With her light, she extended her hand into a room that was otherwise dark.

Whispering to her daughter, "My little Y/N," she delicately gathered the stray hairs and placed them behind her ear. "For as long as it takes, I will shield you from harm. I can only pray that the web of destiny does not end in sorrow."

Chapter 1

Tag List: Tag List is Open and has room for more. (note: Everything means everything from M/M to OFC)

Dean (Female Pairing Only)

@440mxs-wife

@virgosapphire79

@deans-spinster-witch

@sandlee44

@waynes-multiverse

@cookiechipdough

@magssteenkamp

@akshi8278

Dean Everything

@sexyvixen7

@kickingitwithkirk

@deandreamernp

@holylulusworld

@roseblue3733

@stoneyggirl2

@hobby27

@stixnstripesworld

#flamencodiva #The Moon Goddess's Daughter and the Alpha #Shifter!Dean Winchester Fic #supernatural au fic #Dean Winchester x Female!Reader #Angst #Dean Winchester AU Fic #Supernatural Fan Fiction

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bucksangel · 1 year

Text

All You Want, the Stars and the Sun

pairing: bucky x reader, reader x omc (aaron)

word count: 5.3k

summary: “Lie to me.” The request is simple, softly spoken into your hair while his lips press themselves to the top of your head. There’s a long pause as you gather yourself enough to push through the inevitable, heart turning heavier with each silent second that passes. “Please.” And, fuck. The quiver in his voice does nothing to hide the clear pain in his soul, and a small teardrop slides down his cheek as you whisper softly. “I love you, Bucky.”

warnings: 18+, angst, angst, and a little more angst, fluffy bits here and there, cheating (reader cheating on omc), unrequited love (not really), some crying and self-loathing, kinda toxic!reader???, allusions to smut, bucky needs a hug, modern!au, fluffy ending bc angsty endings hurt my heart😭

a/n: i’ve had this in my drafts forever so i hope y’all love it as much as it hurt me to write it :) (song title is from 'yours' by conan gray)

The night sky is clear with the stars twinkling and the moon shining its light down on all who happen to be outside. There’s a chill in the air, the light wind blowing through the slit in your dress that causes goosebumps to rise on your forearms. It’s a beautiful night, perfect for being wrapped in the arms of the man you love as you point out different constellations.

And for a moment, you can almost smell his cologne, can almost hear his voice whispering soft declarations of love in your ear. For that moment, you’re able to pretend that you’re happy, that this is where you’re meant to be, wrapped in Bucky’s arms never to be let go.

But then a kiss is pressed to your temple, the arms around your waist squeezing tighter in what is supposed to be a loving gesture, but only comes across as ugly possessiveness. The voice, gruffer than Bucky’s ever could be, asks - demands - that you go to the bar and bring back another drink. And that’s when you’re snapped out of your trance, forced back into reality - a reality you wish you could escape at every waking moment. Because behind you isn’t your best friend - it’s Aaron.

Aaron, the son of a man with more wealth than anyone has any right to own, is the man whose arms are gripping you, mumbling something about a stronger drink so he can put up with the night's festivities. Those are the words he used. Put up with it.

And isn’t that just comforting, you’re fiancee, the man you’re set to marry in two months and spend the rest of your life with, feels the need to put up with your birthday celebration? Though, there is a good chance he doesn’t know what tonight is about anyway. He’d been gone at work all day and so wasn’t physically there to tell you ‘happy birthday’, and you don’t really text. He’s also been in a pretty foul mood all week, something about some case falling through at the law firm he practices at, so you wouldn’t blame him if he forgot.

Because this engagement isn’t about love, it never has been and it never will be. Simply put, your families are wealthy and think that marrying off their children is the best way to ensure the family's respective reputations. Thinking that if their children marry other high-standing social figures then that will keep them relevant.

And you’re not happy with it, far from it actually, but this is just how it is, you’ve known it even before you met Aaron. And Aaron, for all his awful qualities as a partner, isn’t the worst person. Sure, he doesn’t care too much for being engaged - and that part isn’t even about you, though he is a high-standing lawyer he really just wants to be free of the rigid social rules that come with being wealthy, and marrying into another prominent family certainly won’t help that - but he’s never been rude to you and has come to your aid multiple times if a man gets too handsy. Still, he comes off as cold more than anything.

But he’s helped you when you’ve needed it, and you return the favor when he needs it. He’s been there to let you cry on his shoulder when everything becomes too much for you. You, in turn, have been an ear for him to rant to about what, in his words, assholes his parents are. And you’d like to think that if the marriage wasn’t arranged, and your families weren’t stuck up and so concerned with their image than with their own children’s happiness, maybe you two could have tolerated each other a little more. Perhaps even become passing friends.

As it is, though, neither of you is too happy with your situation. You put up with it, of course. Your father has drilled into you the importance of what it means to be a part of such a well-known family in New York. And your mother has repeatedly and tirelessly told you that love isn’t the top priority, that you may learn to love Aaron, but it’s not important. What’s important is that the family's reputation remains clean.

So when Aaron sends you off to get more drinks, you go happily. Disentangling yourself from his hold, you place a perfunctory kiss on his cheek and saunter toward the open bar inside your - ridiculously too-large - house. Luckily, there aren’t that many people around, most of them are outside, talking business and pretending to be engaged in conversations that everyone can agree are boring beyond belief.

Upon getting to the bar, your smile turns genuine, wider. The sight before you - Bucky in a fancy suit serving drinks - calms your heavy heart. This whole ordeal is too over the top, but you’d never dare tell your parents that. If they knew you only wanted to spend your birthday with your close friends, maybe taking a road trip down to the beach, they’d call you ungrateful, selfish for not wanting to spend time with them, despite the fact that they’ve barely uttered more than two sentences to you the entire night.

“What can I get for you, old lady?” Bucky smiles at you, a twinkle in his eyes.

You laugh, shaking your head and rolling your eyes in an overexaggerated manner.

“I’m only twenty-five, and you are three years older than me so, if anything, you’re the old one here.”

Bucky chuckles, head shaking in amusement. He looks around you, noting the lack of people, before pulling out a small, rectangular box and sliding it over the counter. At your confused look, he nods towards it, silently urging you to open it. When you take it, he makes quick work of making your drink - one you don’t need to tell him seeing as he’s been your friend for years so he knows which drinks match whatever mood you’re in. But he keeps an eye on you as you open the gift, smiling wide at your gasp.

“Bucky…” Your voice goes quiet, your fingers grazing over the gold chain, beautifully braided with different small pendants. You can tell it’s real gold, the weight of it sitting heavily in your palm as you take it out of the box.

“How… how did you afford this?”

There are tears in your eyes because you know he must have worked a hell of a lot of overtime to be able to buy it. He works at his father’s mechanic shop, bartending on the side to make a little extra cash. And despite him making a fair amount of money, there’s no way he would’ve been able to afford this along with his rent and other bills just by working overtime.

“Overtime, y’know?” His voice is soft like he’s hiding something from you. And when you look up at him, his sheepish look and the red flush slowly covering his face, your eyes narrow before widening comedically.

“You didn’t use your savings for this did you?”

When he doesn’t answer, you can’t help but feel a little angry. Not at him, never at him. More so at yourself. He’s been saving that money so he could move and buy a house in the woodsy area of upstate New York. Why would he use that money for me?

“Bucky,” Your voice is sharp, and you put the bracelet back in its box. “I can’t accept this.”

“You can and you will.” He says it resolutely, like there’s no arguing with him on this. “I-I haven’t been able to get you anything nice for any of your birthdays. And before you say anything, I didn’t buy it out of guilt. You deserve nice things, and I want to give you those things. Even if it means sacrificing a little money and time to get them for you.”

Bucky’s eyes shine with an emotion you can clearly discern as love, and you can’t help the overwhelming guilt you feel. Because Bucky loves you, he loves you in a way that your parents would disapprove of simply because he’s not as rich and high-standing as they are. Truthfully, they don’t even approve of your friendship with him, and they’d only allowed him to be at your party as the bartender at your never-ending insistence. And if they knew how he felt they’d never let him within the state of you.

“Buck… I -” you’re cut off by Aaron’s voice calling for you, asking where his drink is. Both you and Bucky roll your eyes, and he makes quick work of pouring a glass of bourbon. When he slides both drinks across the counter you hold out your arm, urging him to take the bracelet.

“Put it on for me?”

He smiles, relieved that you’re not going to give him any more shit for blowing hundreds of his hard-earned money. He takes his time wrapping the chain around your wrist, his fingers ghosting over your arm as he locks it into place. And as you retract your arm he takes hold of your hand, lifting it and placing a lingering kiss on your knuckles.

“Happy birthday, plum.”

Sighing at another call of your name, you give him a smile with tears in your eyes at how lucky you are to be able to call this man your best friend.

“Thank you, Buck.”

Then you take the drinks in each hand, sparing him one last glance as you turn to head back outside.

____________

It’s heartbreaking, really, how fucked up this whole situation is. After your party ended and everyone had gone their separate ways, you’d managed to sneak Bucky up to one of the guest rooms a hallway away from your room. You’re lucky in that you and Aaron rarely share the same bed - almost never, really. So you don’t have to worry about him catching you pulling Bucky into one of the rooms and shutting the door as quietly as possible before Bucky turns you around and pulls you into a heated kiss. It’s frenzied and rushed, as it normally is seeing as you’re always nervous about someone seeing you two.

And it’s not that you’re embarrassed. You’d never be embarrassed about being with Bucky. But being caught cheating on the man you’re set to marry wouldn’t look too good to the public eye, let alone with someone who other snobby New York residents would deem undesirable. And doesn’t that just suck? Bucky is seen as lesser just because he didn’t grow up with money falling out of his ass.

But you ignore that, drowning out any and all thoughts of anything that isn’t Bucky, anything that isn’t his large hands carefully peeling off your dress, his plush lips traveling down your jaw and to your neck, placing wet and open-mouthed kisses as he goes.

The soft and low moans of his name carry through the room, his hands gently guiding you to the bed where he lays you back onto the plush mattress. For a moment you both go quiet, your eyes growing dark with desire as he peels away the layers of the suit you’d bought him - the suit that he flat-out refused until you told him that this was the only thing your parents would allow him to wear if he was going to attend your party.

Once he’s fully undressed, he climbs on the bed and hovers over you, stopping to gaze down at you with the brightest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. And you swear you could get lost in them forever, and your heart wants to beat out of your chest at that fact. Because you shouldn’t want to. You shouldn’t want him in the way that you do, so, like always, you push it down and ignore it.

For some unknown reason, it’s always easier to pretend like your feelings don’t run deeper than lust. Somehow your brain justifies this situation - and every other time you make love with him - as okay as long as you don’t love him.

Bucky cuts off the voices in your head with a deep kiss, his tongue sneaking out of his mouth and into yours. And even though you wish this could last all night, you know you don’t have that time.

It’s rushed, heated, passionate. The way he fills you makes you feel complete, whole, and undeniably guilty at the way you push down the feelings of wanting nothing less than this for the rest of your life.

And you know he does too. He wants you to himself, not having to share you with another man. He wants your heart, not just your body, but you know he’ll take whatever he can get. And if all he can get is rushed sex then he’ll gladly take it.

And he takes it. He fucks you rough and fast, whispering softly about how good you are for him, how perfect you feel, how wonderfully you take him. You, in turn, give him similar sentiments. Because he is, without a doubt, the best lover you’ve ever had. Aaron could never compare - and, granted you’ve only had sex with him a handful of times, but, it still hangs true.

And after it’s over and you’re lying next to Bucky, both of you with labored breathing, in the darkness of the room, you’re finally able to shut out the voices of guilt.

That is, until -

“Lie to me.” The request is simple, softly spoken into your hair while his lips press themselves to the top of your head. There’s a long pause as you gather yourself enough to push through the inevitable, heart turning heavier with each silent second that passes.

“Please.” And, fuck. The quiver in his voice does nothing to hide the clear pain in his soul, and a small teardrop slides down his cheek as you whisper softly.

“I love you, Bucky.”

____________

It’s a surprisingly cold spring evening, if you were to be outside you’d surely be freezing your ass off. Luckily you’re inside where the heater stays on full blast, warming you to the point where you’re stripped down to a simple tank top and shorts. That doesn’t stop Bucky from throwing a blanket across your lap.

Well, his lap too.

You’re in his apartment, cuddled up against him for your weekly Saturday movie marathon - a tradition you’d started years ago and have never missed. It’s nice to have a sense of normalcy in the midst of crowded galas and largely photographed public appearances.

And while it may come off as the stereotypical ‘first world problems’, you’d truly never wish the hell you live with on anyone. Because, quite frankly, you don’t care about the money. You don’t care about being seen as some ‘young and beautiful socialite’ when all you’ve ever wanted was this - quiet nights with the ones you love, without the pressure of being perfect at every waking moment.

Being with Bucky helps fill that void, that emptiness of being truly cared for instead of being used as a pawn in some greater scheme.

You and Bucky are in his living room with you nearly sitting on top of him on his couch which has plenty of space for several people to sit, but he refuses to let you out of his personal space. And you don’t mind, you love it actually. Because, again, you’re reminded that it is possible for you to be loved without the money and glamor that most people usually flock to you for.

As the third movie of the evening plays on the screen in front of you, Bucky’s hand on your hip starts rubbing in slow circles, massaging and kneading the area comfortingly. But you know him, and you know where this is going to lead, and you don’t mind it in the slightest. Though you try your hardest, you can’t help but want it, crave it, really. Throughout your relationship with Aaron - and you hate even thinking of him when you’re with Bucky - he’s never been particularly affectionate, except for public appearances.

And, granted, you’re not affectionate with him either, you both agree that there isn’t much chemistry between the two of you other than your shared loathing of the abnormalcy of your lives.

“Plum?” Bucky’s soft voice pulls you from your thoughts, and your head turns so you can stare up at him.

“Yeah?”

“I was - um…” His voice trails off, timid and low as though he’s afraid of scaring you off. But you’d never be put off by anything he could possibly say or do, something you hate thinking about because admitting it means admitting that you really do love him - and you absolutely cannot do that.

You notice how Bucky’s eyes bore into yours, gazing at you with intense, deep eyes as they then flicker down to your lips. You can’t help but do the same, and your tongue pokes out to lick at your bottom lip. For a moment, no one moves or speaks, waiting for the other to initiate what was inevitably going to happen at the end of the night.

But as Bucky leans toward your face, his lips inches away from yours, your phone rings, the alarm loud and shrill. Sighing, Bucky pulls away, allowing you to lean over to the coffee table and see that it’s Aaron calling. And you know he wouldn’t call you unless he needed something, so you start preparing yourself to end the night earlier than you wanted.

“Hello?” Your voice comes out sharp, coming across as almost annoyed because you really didn’t want to be disturbed tonight.

On the other end of the phone, Aaron says something about how your parents are ‘needing’ your presence at some dinner and they’re pissed that you’ve forgotten. You decide not to tell him that you’ve already told your parents that you couldn’t - and wouldn’t - go because you already had plans. But, instead of arguing, you tell him you’ll be there soon with a resounding sigh.

And as you end the call, you look back at Bucky, his expression having fallen and clearly showing how defeated he looks. But when he notices you looking at him, he pulls a brave smile and nods.

“It’s okay, Plum.”

“No, it’s not.” You’re frustrated, immensely so, because sometimes Bucky is just too understanding. Always telling you that nothing matters as long as he has your attention for at least some part of the day. “I’m really sorry, Bucky.”

Bucky shakes his head, pulling you forward and kissing your forehead with his lips lingering. “Don’t be sorry,” he murmurs against your hairline before leaning his head forward so he can rest his forehead against yours.

“Before you go, can you just…” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Can you just lie to me real quick?”

You want to die. To be pulled under the earth and forced to live out the rest of your days in hell for what you do next.

“I love you, Bucky.”

And with one final sigh, you disentangle yourself from Bucky’s hold, gathering your things and giving him one last longing glance before you leave with your heart ripping at the seams.

____________

It’s your annual summer pool party, and, luckily, the sky is littered with a few clouds that block the sun every once in a while, giving everyone a much-needed reprieve from the usual scorching heat.

You’re lounging by the pool, clad in your modest white bathing suit while others mingle around and in the pool. You wish you could have fun, could join in on the festivities, and drink and laugh along with everyone else. But you can’t. You can’t really focus on anything at the moment because Aaron hasn’t left your side since the whole thing started. Eyes are always on you, and people cooing over how ‘cute’ you two are. Clearly, they’ve never been in love with someone if they really think you and Aaron are a good fit for each other.

Aaron doesn’t seem to be enjoying himself much either, constantly sighing and trying - and failing - to not roll his eyes any time someone comes up to congratulate you on your upcoming wedding happening in two weeks. And those faux congratulatory comments only serve as a reminder of knowing that you’ll be spending the rest of your life unhappy. But, maybe you deserve it.

You actually do deserve that unhappiness, what with how you’ve been treating Bucky. He’s been on your mind a lot lately, much more than usual. Because you know you’ll probably have to put a stop to the intimacy you share with him, and as selfish as it is, you really don’t want to. You want to have him, to be loved by him, but the constant pressure put on you by your parents to be perfect at every waking moment deters you from pursuing it.

And, speaking of the devil, your phone rings, chiming with the ringtone you’ve set specifically for Bucky. You’re prone to ignoring most messages and calls, but you’re always ready to talk to him, so setting a custom tone helps distinguish him from others.

‘Having fun?’

‘Bored as fuck, everyone keeps trying to talk to me.’

‘So you don’t want to talk to me?’

‘Ha ha, you know you’re the only person I ever actually like talking to.’

It takes him a minute to respond, but when he does it’s with a dumb meme with the caption ‘you’

This causes you to giggle, your mood lightening with every text he sends. But it isn’t until your mother comes up to stand over you and glare down as though she knows who you’re texting. Which, to be fair, she does. Despite the fact that she’s aloof and doesn’t seem to actually care about you, she only shows any kind of emotion - anger - when she knows you’re talking to Bucky.

“Stop texting with that boy,” she says like she’s disgusted. Which, yeah she is, she hates him. “Come on over, your aunt Sherry wants to speak with you.”

With that, she pulls a fake smile and turns sharply to lead you to your aunt. And you take your time getting up from the lounge chair, only quickening your movements when she looks back and glares at you.

“Young lady, don’t you have anything to say to Aaron?” She hisses quietly, causing you to suppress an eye roll as you turn ever so slightly to your fiancee.

“I’ll be back soon, I love you.” You say it through gritted teeth, your heart turning heavy, heavier when he responds with the same sentiment.

____________

It’s Saturday, exactly one week from your wedding. You’re, once again, curled into Bucky’s side as some random movie is played on the tv. You’ve grabbed Bucky’s hand, fiddling with his fingers nervously as too many thoughts of guilt start growing ever deeper. It’s only the second movie, and it’s only six, but your restlessness seems to capture Bucky’s attention in a concerning way.

“Are you okay, plum?”

His voice knocks you out of your thoughts, and when you turn to look at him you see his eyes, bright yet concerned with the way his eyebrows are furrowed.

“Ye - um… Can we…” You can’t seem to get your words out, mainly because you can’t really think too straight. All you know is that you need him to do something to curb your nerves. So, settling on the only thing that really works, you lean your head onto his shoulder and thread your fingers through his.

“Can we go to your room?”

Your tone is suggestive, giving away your intentions. And Bucky, ever the best man you’ve ever met, nods with a small smile. He leans down, his lips brushing over yours as he mumbles “yeah.”

After the night has calmed and you’re no longer wrapped in the throes of ecstasy and passion, the room grows quiet. Nothing but the sound of soft breathing and a hum every once in a while can be heard. Your head - still swimming with so many thoughts and emotions - rests on Bucky’s shoulder, one hand laid against his chest as you draw mindless shapes on his firm stomach.

“Bucky?” Your voice is soft, timid. Almost unsure.

“Yeah, plum?” He sounds tired, though clearly trying to fight sleep in order to stay in this moment with you.

You pause, sucking in a deep breath.

“Ask me.”

Bucky hums, confused. The arm wrapped around your waist starts rubbing in slow circles, fingers digging in ever so slightly as he massages the area.

“Ask me to lie to you.”

He sighs, knowing what’s coming. This is it, this is the part where you tell him you love him, he gives you one last kiss, and sees you off, watching you leave to go back to Aaron. He hates this part, loathes it. But he’ll take any part of you he can get, even if it means continuously breaking his heart.

“Lie to me, plum,” His voice is soft, and even without looking at him you know that there are tears forming in his eyes.

Here it goes.

“I don’t love you, Bucky.”

Silence. Neither of you is too sure if you’re breathing with how fast and heavy your heart is beating. Time seems to slow down, everything going fuzzy with how nervous you are. Your hands are clammy, curling into fists and then extending them, popping the knuckles.

Bucky shifts from under you, sitting up slightly. This causes you to roll off of him and lay on your back with Bucky now leaning over you, propped up on his elbow. There’s a furrow in his brow, his mouth parting ever so slightly as he looks down on you, desperately trying to find any ounce of humor.

But he doesn’t, because you’re not lying. Not this time.

Before he can say anything you cut him off with a chaste kiss, one of your hands coming up to rest on his cheek. Pulling away, you gaze into his eyes, shining with hope.

“I broke up with him.”

Bucky can’t help his soft gasp, and the tears in his eyes are for a completely different reason now. Because everything he’s ever wanted is now closer than ever. But despite the growing happiness, he needs to know what it all means, what it means for you, for him.

“What do you mean? When?”

“Two days ago, we were out at dinner with my parents. It was boring as hell and I was just looking around to drown out their voices. And to my left, there was this older couple. They weren’t talking, just eating quietly and occasionally the man would kiss his wife’s hand, but that was it. But the look in their eyes whenever they looked at each other spoke more than words ever could. They didn’t need words for people to know that they were in love. They were happy.”

You pause and sigh, stroking Bucky’s cheek with your thumb.

“And I realized that that is what I want. It’s what I deserve. I don’t want a husband who wouldn’t care about me, I don’t want my parents dictating how I should live my life, and I don’t want to have to pretend to love someone for the sake of public image. Especially when I’m already in love with someone else.”

Another pause, a sniffle, a teardrop falling onto your cheek from where Bucky still hovers over you.

“What I want is someone who will love me, someone who sees me for my flaws yet chooses to love me anyway, someone who looks at me like I’m the only person they’ll ever need. I want a love that shines so bright that anyone with eyes could see. I want a love that doesn’t need words, a kind of happiness that hurts. And… I’ve only ever felt that it was possible once in my life. There’s only one person I could ever see that happening with.”

You sit up now, prompting Bucky to sit up further so you can be level with him now. Both of your hands come up to his face, letting your eyes linger on how beautifully blue his eyes are, how hopeful and in awe they are.

“It isn’t Aaron. It’s never been Aaron. And I know that I’m awful. I’m selfish, I’m horrible. I’ve put you through more pain than anyone should go through. And I will never be able to express how sorry I am for that, how utterly broken I am over the fact that I’ve done nothing but hurt you. I’m so sorry Bucky, but I want to be selfish one more time. I want to be happy, I want to be loved. And you’re the only person I’ve ever seen that happiness with. You’re the only man I want for the rest of forever. And I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but if you’re able to, then I’ll spend the rest of my life doing whatever it takes to prove that you are all I want.”

Your head leans forward, resting against Bucky’s. Both of you close your eyes, your lips barely brushing over each other.

“It’s always been you, Bucky.”

A loud, heartbreaking sob makes its way through Bucky’s chest, and he nearly falls forward into your body, searching for your warmth. And you provide it. Your arms wrap themselves tightly around his body, pulling him into your chest and letting him cry. Part of you is worried that he’ll say ‘no’, that he’ll break and realize that he’s put up with your shit for too long and decide that he doesn’t want to forgive you, that you’re too late. But the way his arms are clutching you tighter than ever before makes you hopeful that everything will be fine eventually, that he’ll accept your apology and you can start working your way to mending things.

It takes a few minutes for him to stop crying, and the only reason you aren’t is that you’re trying to be strong for him, trying to give him comfort instead of making a mess of both of you. And when he does eventually stop crying he releases his hold on you just enough so he can lift his head. And the look in his eyes is heartbreaking, it physically hurts you. Because he looks like a little boy who’s been gone for years finally reuniting with the family he never thought he’d see again. He looks like a man lost at sea having finally found land. Desperate. Hopeful. Broken. Whole.

“I-” He coughs, clearing out the heaviness in his throat. “I love you. You already know that, and I think part of me always knew you loved me more than you said. But… But actually hearing it is just - it’s different. It’s everything I’ve ever needed. You are all I have ever and will ever need. And we’re going to need to talk more, maybe work through some things. But if you’re willing to let me love you, then that’s what I’ll do. Forever.”

Bucky leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. It’s not really a kiss, just resting his lips on top of yours and breathing each other in. And you stay like that for what feels like hours, wrapped in each other’s embrace and soaking in the reality that you’re finally going to be happy. As Bucky said, it’ll take time to get to where you both truly want to be, but you know that you’ll do whatever it takes to get there.

“Can you say it again?” His lips don’t move from yours, so the words are muffled, but you hear him just the same.

And with the way he smiles, he hears you when you mumble back ‘I love you, Bucky’.

#let me know what yall think!!#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fic #my writing

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gerrystamour · 1 year

Text

i can't tell where you end and where i start

Rated E | Steve/OMC, Steddie | Complete

Related to i could be honest, i could be human

Steve's adventures in bisexuality~*~ EDIT: The amazing, showstopping, skilled, fantastic, breathtaking @sentient-trash DREW TIG RECENTLY and absolutely BLEW MY MIND and just aaaaaaaaaaah Simon, as always, I adore you, you absolutely fucking spoil me CW: There is smut involving a Male Original Character, and it used to be on AO3 only, but now that I've locked my AO3 account, I've added it here now too. If you don't wanna read smut involving an OC, just scroll past it.

August 1985

The music was loud, bodies pressed close as everyone danced and shoved. Steve had been overwhelmed, scared even, when he’d first arrived, but now he was grinning as he pressed through to the bar.

“What can I get for you, gorgeous?” the bartender asked as he eyed Steve up and down appreciatively. Steve was happy that he was already flushed from dancing so his blush at the compliment wasn’t so obvious.

“Just a Coke, please!” he hollered over the music. “I have to drive back home tonight.”

“You got it, sweetie,” the bartender replied and quickly fixed him a glass.

Sipping at his Coke, Steve turned to lean back on the bar with his elbows and watched the crowd of men and women dancing. It was liberating, seeing men hold each other close and women kissing, and for a second he felt guilty for not bringing Robin. It wasn’t the first time he felt guilty, but he told himself again that it was important he figured some of his shit out on his own.

Immediately upon arriving he had been coaxed out to the dance floor by a young man with strong arms and a broad chest. He was absolutely gorgeous, Steve could easily admit that, and they danced for several songs together. They were eventually separated by the crowd, but that was fine. This was just a bit of an information gathering trip, Steve told himself, he wasn’t actually trying to go home with anyone this time.

As he scanned the crowd, his eyes caught on someone standing a bit away from Steve at a high-top. Steve’s heart stuttered at the long hair, the denim vest over a leather jacket, the ripped pants. But the longer Steve looked, the more features he noticed and relaxed a bit; the man was too tall, too blond, his hair too straight.

That did not change the way Steve’s heart raced when the man waved at him almost coyly.

Steve smiled sheepishly as he sipped his Coke, ducking his head a bit to glance at the man through his lashes.

The grin that came to Steve’s lips when the man immediately crossed the space to the bar was huge, and his breath left him as the man crowded close.

“Hey, handsome,” Steve greeted, the man’s smirk causing a swarm of butterflies in Steve’s gut to take wing. “What can I do you for?”

“Haven’t seen you here before,” the man replied, leaning a hand on the bar and idly stroking Steve’s elbow with his thumb. “You new to town?”

“Just visiting,” Steve replied, shivering at the contact. “You?”

“Born and raised,” he answered, and Steve shivered as the man’s other hand settled on his waist. “I’m Tig.”

Steve smiled, wondering if that was Tig's actual name or not. “Steve,” he replied, and Tig’s grin broadened.

He didn’t have dimples, which Steve noted with disappointment that left him feeling a bit guilty.

“Wanna dance, Steve?” Tig asked, which pulled a bit of a shocked laugh from Steve.

“Doesn’t seem like your scene,” he replied as Madonna blared over the speakers.

Tig laughed, and it was soft, almost sweet. “Definitely not,” he agreed, reaching up to brush Steve’s sweaty hair off his forehead. “Looks like yours, though. Could have a bit of fun here, and if you wanted, I could take you back to my place? Play something a bit more my speed?”

Steve reminded himself that he wasn’t intending to go home with anyone this time, that this was just for information gathering. But he was drawn to Tig. Steve wanted to dance with him, and he was probably going to go home with him.

They danced for what felt like hours but was really just seven songs before Tig called for a smoke break. Steve happily followed him outside, accepting a cigarette as it was handed to him. Tig lit his own cigarette then Steve’s, holding the lighter between them. They made small talk, the conversation easy and fun while they smoked together.

“What do you say we go somewhere a bit quieter?” Tig asked, steel-blue eyes hooded as he gave Steve a once-over. “Unless you want to keep dancing?”

“I think you were going to show me music more your speed,” Steve reminded him, smirking a bit as he shrugged. “Could always keep dancing,” he added teasingly and Tig laughed.

“You’ve no idea what you’re asking for,” Tig said with a quiet chuckle, rolling his eyes.

Steve went back to Tig’s apartment, and it was a mess. On the coffee table, there was a truly impressive bong surrounded by several glasses with various levels of various beverages. There was clothing strewn about as well and a plate with a half-eaten sandwich on the table.

“Sorry, my roommates are animals,” Tig grumbled as he took Steve’s hand and pulled him through the mess and into a bedroom. It was much tidier than the main living area and Steve looked around in fascination.

There were several posters on the walls, some clearly from a live show and others likely bought at a record store, all of them of bands Steve had never heard of. All of the posters had strange and even scary imagery. One poster looked familiar, though, but Steve was struggling to place it right away. There were two guitars in one corner of the room, one electric and the other acoustic, and Steve went to look at them closer.

“You play?” Tig asked, and Steve chuckled and shook his head.

“No, not at all. I don’t even sing or anything like that,” Steve replied, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m more of a jock, you could say.”

“No way,” Tig drawled sarcastically, smirking teasingly.

Steve just laughed and kept looking around. He could hear Tig messing around with the stereo on the other side of the room, but he focused on looking at the shelf of different cassettes and records. Finally, he looked at the bed and he blushed, his heart racing as he seemed to realize where he was.

He was actually in a man’s room, standing next to his bed while the man decided what music to put on.

There was a moment where that feeling almost turned into panic, but then his eyes fell on an old, well-loved tiger stuffed animal. It wasn’t just any tiger either.

Smiling brightly, Steve held it up as he met Tig’s gaze, and there was a light blush dusting his cheeks. “Tigger?” he asked warmly, before gesturing at the man himself. “Tig?”

“You cracked the code, Steve,” Tig replied, giving Steve a one-shouldered shrug as he put a tape in and hit play.

The soft sound of a guitar played from the speakers and Tig turned it up a touch. Then the man came around the bed to stand directly in front of Steve, smirking down at him. Gently, Tig took the stuffed animal out of Steve’s hands and put it on one of the shelves next to them.

“Not gonna ask for my real name?” Tig asked curiously, and Steve shrugged.

“Was Tig not a real name?” he asked, and Tig grinned at that, as if relieved or something.

“Tig is definitely a real name, or real enough,” Tig confirmed, lifting a hand to cup Steve’s jaw while the other slid around his waist.

There was a moment when Steve realized he was going to have his first kiss with a man, and it was going to be a guy he met only a couple hours ago, and he felt that almost-panicked feeling bubble up inside him again.

But then Tig was kissing him, and it was gentle and sweet, something Steve wouldn’t have expected looking at him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve wondered if Eddie would kiss like this too.

Banishing that thought from his mind, Steve deepened the kiss and moaned when their tongues met. To his surprise, Steve discovered that Tig’s tongue was pierced, something he was very curious about. He didn’t realize he actually asked about it aloud until Tig laughed.

“How about I show you, sweetheart?”

They made quick work of stripping, even if they kept getting distracted with kissing each other, and then Steve was on the bed and staring up into Tig’s blue eyes. The nerves were coming back as they searched each other’s eyes, but Steve did his best to push them back.

It was just a blowjob. Steve had plenty of experience with receiving blowjobs. This wasn’t new.

With a smirk, Tig crawled downward, pausing to suck and nibble on one of Steve’s nipples, earning himself a sharp gasp and startled moan. Chuckling, Tig continued downward and without any preamble or teasing, he took Steve’s cock into his mouth and sunk down onto it. Steve arched off the bed as his cock hit the back of Tig’s throat, choking out a whine when Tig groaned and swirled his tongue on the upstroke.

The ball of the piercing against Steve’s cock had his brain oozing out his ears, the room swimming in his vision while he cried out. His hands tangled in silky, blonde hair, not pulling or guiding him, just holding on for dear life.

Suddenly, Tig pulled off Steve’s cock and asked, “Can you grab the lube out of the drawer next to you?”

Steve blinked at Tig, his stomach a bit queasy with his nerves, but he nodded and rifled through the drawer until he found the bottle. Laying back on the bed, Steve watched as Tig slicked up his fingers. He’d kind of looked into this, but it was still a bit nerve-wracking. Steve just hoped his nerves didn’t show, or if they did that Tig would just take them as part of some innocent act.

Tig’s mouth returned to Steve’s dick, only taking the head and working it with his pierced tongue while a finger gently probed at Steve’s hole. Working to stay relaxed, Steve grunted as the long digit slid inside and began to slide in and out. A second finger quickly joined, making Steve grimace but the mouth round his dick and the tongue playing with the weeping slit of it had him forgetting the pain immediately.

The two fingers worked his hole almost clinically, and Steve began to wonder if he would like it at all. He didn’t dislike it so far, and there was something pleasant about the push-pull in his rim.

Then Tig braced his free arm across Steve’s stomach before crooking his fingers just so.

The noise that was wrenched from Steve’s throat could only be described as a scream, his back arching and eyes rolling back as stars exploded behind them. When he caught his breath, Steve looked down at Tig with wide eyes, confused and aroused in equal amounts.

Tig was looking back up at him through his lashes, a knowing look in his eyes, and Steve was terrified he’d stop.

But then Tig was taking him as deep as possible and tilted his fingertips upward into that spot that made Steve sob.

Steve came almost embarrassingly quick, his whole body shuddering as he spilled down Tig’s throat and clenched around his fingers tightly.

When Steve was done shaking, he dragged Tig upward by his hair, kissing him deeply and tasting himself on his tongue. Without hesitation, Steve reached between them to touch Tig’s heavy, aching cock.

Tig groaned, thrusting his hips and fucking Steve’s fist, his eyes heavy-lidded as he loomed above Steve. “Close,” Tig sighed, shuddering and letting his eyes roll back and Steve quickened his pace.

It only took a few more determined pumps of his fist before Tig let out a thick, breathy groan and cum hit Steve’s stomach and chest. It was filthy and hot, and Steve wished he’d made Tig come inside his mouth instead.

Tig reached down to grab his shirt off the floor and wiped Steve’s stomach off before he collapsed on the bed next to him.

As they laid there panting for breath with sweat cooling on their skin, Steve’s attention returned to the music. It was actually sort of… pleasant, even if some of it went a bit harder than Steve typically listened to. The lyrics weren’t his favourite, but he could overlook those.

“What is this?” Steve asked, gesturing at the stereo.

“Huh?” Tig said hazily, blinking a couple times before he registered the question. “Oh, Iron Maiden. They’re my favourite band.”

“This is Iron Maiden?” Steve asked, a bit confused.

He’d looked into metal as a genre after Eddie helped him out with his busted head, but he’d been too nervous to dive into the music on his own. The album art made him think that the music would be scary, and Steve could remember many times Eddie’s van pulling into the school parking lot vibrating with screaming guitars. What was playing on the stereo was nice, and yeah, a lot of it went harder than the rock Steve typically went for, but Steve really liked it.

“You’ve heard of them?” Tig asked excitedly, rolling onto his side, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Yeah, I know this guy back home who listens to music like this— your poster!” Steve interrupted himself, snapping his fingers triumphantly and pointing to the one over the bed. “That’s on the back of his battle vest.”

When he looked back at Tig, there was a knowing look on his face that turned Steve’s stomach sour.

“You like this guy a lot?” Tig asked, and he sounded genuine in asking, like he actually wanted to hear about Steve’s feelings for another guy. Steve didn’t deserve that; he didn’t sleep with Tig just because he couldn’t have Eddie, but that was at least part of his motivation.

Steve shrugged, looking away from Tig.

“Hey, Steve, c’mon don’t shut me out,” Tig cooed softly, cupping Steve’s chin and turning his face back toward him. There was a smile on his lips as he said, “I’m not gonna be mad that you like another guy or anything.”

Steve flushed, his ears heating up as he nodded. “Yeah, of course, makes sense,” he muttered, mostly to himself before he sighed. “It doesn’t matter. My feelings for him, I mean. We couldn’t actually do anything about them anyway.”

“No?” Tig hummed, dropping his hand from Steve’s face to wrap around his waist loosely, his fingertips drawing shapes on Steve’s hip.

“We live in a small town a couple hours away, and we’re both too… popular, I guess, in our own ways to do it secretly,” he said quietly, then added even quieter, “my dad would kill him.”

Tig was quiet for a long while, then lifted his hand again to brush along the outside of his eye. The bruising was largely gone by then, but there was still a yellow-greenish tinge to his skin that spoke of a nasty injury recently if someone was observant enough.

“Your dad do that?” he asked quietly, and Steve shook his head.

“That was an accident at work,” Steve replied, the lie coming easily and Tig seemed to have bought it. “My dad never hits my face hard enough to leave a mark.”

It was weird how simple it was to say it out loud to a complete stranger like that, when he had only told Robin because she almost witnessed it happen.

“Your dad’s smarter than mine, then,” Tig said with a snort. “He went to prison—not for hitting me, other shit people actually care about, y’know? But I went into the system, bounced around a bunch of foster homes until I aged out.”

“Shit,” Steve grimaced and he wasn’t sure if his situation was so bad after all.

“Yeah,” Tig sighed, then smiled. “So this guy, he has a Dio patch on his battle vest?”

The change in topic was a bit confusing, but Steve was relieved, too. “I think he cut a T-shirt up, it’s too big to be a patch like the others, but yeah.”

“You should listen to Dio then, especially that album,” Tig said, his arm returning to rest around Steve’s waist and fingertips teasing the skin of his hip. “Might learn a few things about him.”

Steve sighed. “It’s stupid, but I’m afraid I won’t like it,” he confessed, laughing slightly.

“Do you like Iron Maiden?” Tig asked.

“Yeah, actually, I do,” Steve said with a laugh.

“You’ll probably appreciate Dio, then. You at least won’t hate Dio,” Tig said with a grin, cuddling tighter to Steve’s side.

It was nice, laying there in someone’s bed, being held. But then he started to feel a bit guilty for staying there so long. “I should be heading out,” Steve said a bit awkwardly, chewing his lip when Tig pulled back.

“Do you want to leave?” Tig asked and Steve sighed heavily.

“No, I don’t, but that’s—after stuff like this, isn’t it weird to just… hang out?” Steve asked weakly, shrugging.

“Only if you’re trying to stay when you’ve been told to get lost,” Tig replied with a chuckle as he threw his leg over Steve and shifted so he was straddling his thighs. “I was kinda hoping for round two when I put on a new cassette in a couple minutes.”

Steve smiled up at Tig, a bit awed by him. He was undeniably gorgeous, and on top of that he was compassionate and sweet, and he went by a nickname he got from a childhood toy. A toy he kept with him through several foster homes. Would Steve get a chance to learn why that toy was so important to him? Would they get close enough to open up that much to each other?

“Yeah? And what do you suggest we do until then?” Steve asked teasingly, tipping his chin up as Tig leaned down and brought his lips close.

“Was thinking about kissing you again, playing with your tits a bit, just to get you back in the mood,” Tig responded, and Steve was overwhelmed at the spike of heat that zapped through his core.

“They’re not tits,” he protested weakly, but his cock was already stiffening.

Two hands groped Steve’s chest a bit roughly before they shifted to flick their thumbs over his nipples, pulling an embarrassingly needy sound from Steve’s throat.

“Aren’t they, though? Just a little bit?” Tig asked before pinching Steve’s nipples and tugging them until Steve arched off the bed with a sob. “Y’got gorgeous tits, Steve.”

With that, Tig’s mouth finally met Steve’s, happily swallowing the increasingly desperate whines as he pinched, flicked, tugged, and twisted Steve’s nipples. It was impressive just how hard Steve already was by the time the album ended, his cock aching where it leaked drops of precum onto his hip.

Tig jumped up to quickly switch out the cassette, his own dick at half-mast but getting there. Steve took the few moments he was given to catch his breath, steady his thoughts, and calm himself down a bit. It would be humiliating if he came just from having his nipples played with.

“Shit, sweetheart, look at you,” Tig breathed, and Steve opened his eyes to look up at him.

He was standing next to the bed, eyes wide and adoring as he looked at Steve. Glancing down at Tig’s cock, he could see it had gotten harder and the thought that just looking at Steve did that for him…

It was flattering, embarrassing, and extremely hot.

Feeling brave, emboldened by Tig’s naked attraction to him, Steve played into the blush he felt rising to his cheeks, fluttering his lashes shyly as he looked away. “What?” he asked, biting his lip when he turned his gaze back to Tig’s.

Next thing Steve knew, Tig was on the bed and guiding him until he was laid out on his knees and chest. Tig was pressed flush against him from hips to chest, his dick rutting against the cleft of Steve’s ass. After the thorough fingering earlier, his hole felt loose and utterly empty, and the rubbing pressure of Tig’s length against his rim had Steve’s thoughts going hazy.

Steve had decided earlier that he drew the line at actual penetrative sex after he crossed his own line of “no going home with someone tonight.” He had made a new rule for himself, and he had thought it was going to be an easy enough one to follow. It made no sense for him to go from being basically a virgin to having a dick inside him in one night.

Then again, wasn’t that the experience of every virgin he had slept with up until that point?

“Tig,” Steve gasped, rocking back and shuddering when Tig grabbed his hip in a bruising grip.

With a thick groan, Tig asked, “what, sweetheart?”

Swallowing hard, Steve turned his head to look over his shoulder at Tig, blinking up at him through his lashes. “Fuck me?” he asked, putting a bit more sweetness in is tone than what came naturally. Then, with a sighing moan, he added, “please?”

Tig’s steel-blue eyes were almost black with how blown his pupils were in the dimly lit room. It was very clear that he really got off on the sweet, almost innocent act and he would happily play into it. Whatever got Steve something touching that spot inside him that made him scream.

Steve wasn’t sure how Tig had the bottle of lube in his hand so quickly, but then he was slicking his fingers and shifting his hips away from Steve’s ass.

Whining pathetically, Steve rocked back, trying to chase the delicious pressure. He barely had time to register Tig’s chuckle before there was pressure against his rim and then he had Tig’s fingers inside him again. There was no working Steve up to it this time, just three of his long, slender fingers as deep as they could go.

With a punched-out moan, Steve got onto his elbows and rocked back again, shuddering as Tig fucked him with his fingers. After a bit of trying to shift his hips to get Tig’s fingers where he wanted, Steve realized the man was avoiding his prostate, just moving and scissoring him and getting Steve even more loose.

“Tig, please,” Steve whined as Tig twisted his hand. Then he spread his fingers as much as Steve’s hole would let him and held them there. Steve shook, his breath leaving him in harsh little pants and he realized belatedly that he was actually talking, begging over and over for Tig’s cock.

Behind him, Tig chuckled and Steve grunted when a cold and wet glob of lube was poured over and into his spread hole. Tig’s fingers moved again a bit, working the lube deeper inside before he repeated the process. He ended up doing that until Steve was quivering with arousal, his ass so slick and wet that every small slide of Tig’s fingers was accompanied by an obscenely wet sound.

“You think you’re ready for me, princess?” Tig asked, his voice rough with his own arousal, and Steve sobbed and nodded frantically.

He didn’t even register the pet name for several moments, too busy crying into the comforter as Tig just laughed and repeated the process with the lube two more times. Steve knew without a doubt that he had never been so hard in his entire life leading up to that moment, his cock leaking a steady stream of precum onto the bed underneath him, his balls heavy and the length of it throbbing.

“Tig, please!” Steve begged, sniffling as tears streamed down his face.

“Alright, sweetheart, shush,” Tig hummed, his voice smug. “Give me one of your hands.”

Steve immediately reached back and Tig took it while he withdrew his fingers from Steve’s hole. Then he guided Steve’s hand until he pressed three of his own fingers inside his slick, hot hole. Steve’s fingers were thicker than Tig’s, but by then he was so open and wet that he didn’t even feel the stretch that much.

“Keep those still while I get a condom on, alright?” Tig said and Steve nodded quickly, biting his lip as he focused on holding his hand still and settling his breathing.

He knew he was on the edge of an orgasm he knew would absolutely ruin him for weeks, and all he could do is try not to let that happen before Tig was even inside him.

“Alright, princess, make room for me,” Tig said, and then he laughed at how quickly Steve pulled his fingers out of his hole for him. Steve blushed heavily at that, a spike of embarrassment pooling more heat low in his gut.

A large hand wrapped around the front of Steve’s hip, and he looked over his shoulder to watch Tig position his cock. Steve felt the pressure at his rim, sucked in a deep breath, and then Tig was pushing.

Despite being fingered within an inch of his life twice in one night and having what felt like half a bottle of lube slicking his hole, the stretch was overwhelming. Steve was winded already, the girth of Tig slowly splitting him in half pushing all of the oxygen out of Steve’s lungs. There was a moment where Steve considered that he overestimated his capabilities, that yeah getting fingered like he took it all the time was one thing, but a dick was a completely different story. He thought he should tap out and let Tig know that he was, for the purposes of the sort of sex they would have, a total virgin and he just met his limit.

And then Tig’s hips were pressed flush to Steve’s ass, his cock sunk to the root inside Steve’s core.

When Tig shifted to pull out, Steve reached back with one hand and grabbed his hip, holding him place. “Give me sec,” he gasped, shuddering as he willed his body to relax. The plus side was that the burning stretch was enough to pull Steve back from the edge he was teetering on since Tig played with his nipples.

“You okay, Steve?” Tig asked, and Steve nodded frantically.

The burn was starting to lessen, and while it didn’t feel good at the moment, it definitely didn’t feel bad either. He felt mostly uncomfortable, like pressure was building as his hole clenched around the thick cock inside him.

“Use your words, Steve,” Tig insisted, and to Steve’s dismay the playful, low growl was leaving his voice.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay, just needed a second,” Steve said as steadily as he could, loosening his grip on Tig’s hip and rubbing the skin soothingly. “I’m ready.”

There was hesitation, but eventually Tig let out a shaky breath and started to pull out just as slowly as he pushed in. The drag on Steve’s rim on the pull-out was intense and he mindlessly rocked back with the movement. There was a sense of both relief and sadness when Tig was nearly all the way out, and Steve let out a pitiful little sob.

“I’ve got you, princess,” Tig cooed, and he pushed back inward to the root in one smooth motion, much faster than the first time. All of the air was forced out of Steve all over again, his eyes wide as he twisted his fists in the comforter. He barely had a moment to register that it felt better that time when Tig was already pulling out again.

Each thrust grew faster and more powerful behind Steve, driving tiny, broken little sounds out of his throat. Eyes rolling back, Steve began rocking back to meet each snap of Tig’s hips, the slap of their skin meeting filling the room and almost drowning out the music. The song that was playing was picking up speed, and so was Tig, his cock sliding in and out of Steve with obscenely wet sounds. Steve could feel the steady trickle of lube running down his taint and balls, each thrust pulling more out of Steve’s loose hole.

“Time for a little change, sweetheart,” Tig sighed, and then he was hauling Steve up until his back was flush to Tig’s chest.

When Steve settled back in Tig’s lap, his cock somehow slid even deeper and Steve sobbed, grinding his hips backward. The new angle had the arch of Tig’s dick pressing firmly against Steve’s sweet spot and stars exploded behind his eyes. He could barely breathe, shaking in Tig’s lap as one hand reached back to tangle in long blond hair.

“C’mon, princess, time to move,” Tig growled, low and dark in Steve’s ear before hands fell to his hips and bodily rocked him.

The shifting movement was overwhelming and a thick spurt of precum leaked from the tip of his cock. Steve wasn’t going to last, and they hadn’t even touched his cock. That thought had static screaming in his head as his body lit up on every massaging shift against his prostate, and Steve’s throat hurt from just how loud he knew he was being. The pleasure was sharp enough that Steve was sure he had to be bleeding somehow, and it was quickly approaching the realm of unpleasant.

It was too much all at once.

Steve let out a grunt as his other hand grabbed one of Tig’s holding his hip. He tried to think of what to say, how to communicate that he needed to slow down, that it was too much, but he didn’t want to stop completely.

“Can’t,” Steve gasped out, trying to lift himself up a bit and letting out a filthy sound. It didn’t seem like Tig heard him, because he let out a thick groan and pulled Steve back down, knocking a wounded cry from his throat.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty,” Tig sighed as he nibbled and sucked at Steve’s throat.

Then Tig’s other hand, the one Steve wasn’t holding, slid forward to wrap around Steve’s cock and somehow it was a relief. The pleasure became much less sharp, more familiar even as his ass clenched around a thick length seated deep in his core. Steve whined and shook as Tig began to stroke him.

“Bounce that pretty ass of yours on my cock, princess,” Tig ordered, and Steve tried to summon the strength but he was pretty sure it had leaked out his cock with the precum puddling on the bed underneath him.

“Can’t,” Steve repeated, this time a little louder, his voice a little less choked.

Tig paused behind him before he coaxed Steve to lift up a bit. Steve gasped in a desperate breath of air.

“You okay, Steve?” Tig asked, and Steve nodded frantically.

“The position’s just—it’s a lot,” Steve managed to say after a bit, his voice shaking as his hole clenched around the cock still halfway inside him.

Tig kissed the back of his shoulder, and Steve’s stomach did a little flip. “Too much?” he asked softly, and Steve whimpered and nodded, tears springing to his eyes.

“Alright, baby, I’m gonna put you back on the bed like before, is that okay?” Tig said, and Steve nodded, letting out a shuddering sigh as he was gently guided forward until he caught himself on his hands.

Dropping onto his chest, Steve sighed with relief. It was still a lot, but not sharp at all. Turning his heavy-lidded gaze over his shoulder, Steve bit his bottom lip. “Thank you,” he sighed and rocked back against Tig.

The expression on Tig’s face was hungry and with another push from Steve, he started to fuck him properly.

It was hard and fast, and a lot of it hurt but Steve could take it. He was happy to, with the way Tig was groaning, calling him sweet names and telling him how good he was, how well he took cock, like Steve was made for it. Steve was crying, tears streaming down his face as he met each hard thrust, sobs tumbling from his lips as he nodded and pleaded for more.

“Touch yourself, princess, gonna come soon,” Tig growled and Steve didn’t wait to be told twice.

Wrapping a hand around himself, he only managed two quick pumps and then he was coming, letting out a sound best described as a scream. Behind him, Tig groaned and fucked Steve’s hole as it spasmed around him, thrusts growing erratic until he snapped his hips forward one last time with a surprisingly soft exclamation. Steve shuddered as he felt the warmth of Tig’s release fill the condom inside him, new tears spilling from his eyes at that intimacy.

Tig dropped to his elbows above Steve, draping himself over Steve’s back as he ground his hips against him. The sensation of Tig’s softening cock moving against Steve’s twitching, aching hole pulled a hiss from Steve. With a chuckle, Tig lifted himself up and off of Steve, pulling out with a wet sound that had his ears turning red.

There were several moments where Steve was alone in the bed, maybe even alone in the whole room while Tig muttered something about dealing with the condom. He stayed where Tig left him, chest against the bed, knees under him to keep out of the wet spot, and another wave of tears welled up. He wasn’t upset, he knew that much, that he felt honestly amazing despite the ache in his pelvis. So why was he crying?

Steve thought back to one of the first girls he ever slept with, the way she had cried when they were done. He thought about Nancy’s quiet melancholy after their first time.

“You okay, Steve?” Tig asked, and Steve jumped at the gentle touch of a warm washcloth against his tender ass, wiping away some of the lube.

“Yeah, I’ll get out of your hair in a bit,” Steve replied hoarsely, chuckling lightly.

“Steve, if you think I’m not cuddling the shit out of you after taking your ass virginity, you’re literally insane,” Tig said teasingly, yet firmly and Steve blushed.

“How did you know?” he asked, barely keeping a flinch at bay as he flopped onto his side to look up at Tig, who was smirking.

“I didn’t. I suspected, and you just confirmed,” Tig chuckled, laying on his side next to Steve and facing him. “You could’ve told me.”

Steve shrugged a bit. “I didn’t want you to treat me like I was fragile,” he admitted, shrugging and wiping his tears off his face. “I thought you’d stop me if you knew.”

“Steve, I was pretty sure you’d never had your ass even touched the first time I fingered you,” Tig replied with a smirk. At Steve’s questioning look, Tig said, “you got that look on your face when I found your prostate that kinda screamed that you didn’t know that was there.”

Steve blushed, remembering the way he jolted and stared wide-eyed at Tig. “That’s fair,” Steve admitted, chewing his cheek.

“It’s not my place to tell you what you can and can’t handle, so if you said ‘hey Tig I’ve never done this but please don’t stop’ I would’ve happily still fucked you,” Tig said, cupping Steve’s cheek gently.

“Noted,” Steve sighed, smiling tiredly at Tig who leaned in and kissed him, deep and sweet.

October 1985

Steve ended up getting Tig’s number as he was leaving the next morning, and while he didn’t call often, they still formed a solid friendship. The lines of that friendship blurred whenever Tig would ask Steve when he was going to come back to Indy, and Steve would immediately say his closest day off.

There was once that Steve stayed at Tig’s place for two nights in a row. They hadn’t even gone to the bar, Steve just went straight to his apartment.

It was a lot of fun, and Steve had quickly figured out the answers to his questions. Was he actually interested in men? Yes, emphatically. So it wasn’t just his confused, concussed brain being weird about Eddie? No, absolutely not.

And Steve really liked Tig, could see himself loving Tig someday even.

Tig, however, was already there.

Steve could clearly remember the moment he realized that Tig had fallen harder than he did.

They were laying in Tig’s bed, and Steve had set an alarm to leave extra early so he could still make it back to Hawkins to give Robin a ride to school. He was going to go home the night before, but he was talked into staying until the morning.

Steve moved to slide out of the bed and Tig’s long arms wrapped around him, pulling him back in with a sleepy whine.

“Don’t go,” Tig murmured sleepily, kissing Steve’s shoulder.

Steve laughed and rolled in Tig’s arms to kiss the tip of his nose. “I’ve gotta get back. I need to drive my sister to school,” he explained again and Tig captured his lips sweetly.

Even in the moment, Steve felt something different between them, something naked and vulnerable that wasn’t even there when they were having sex.

“Seriously, Tig, I gotta go,” Steve murmured against Tig’s mouth with a laugh, wiggling out of his embrace so he could start grabbing his clothes off the floor.

“Can’t anyone else take her to school?” Tig asked, his tone lacking the teasing tone it usually had, and Steve looked over his shoulder at him with a frown.

The expression on Tig’s face was open and unbearably soft and dread sunk into Steve’s gut. He knew that look because he had seen it enough times in the mirror when he had thought about Nancy when he was first dating her, when he decided to throw away even trying to get into college right after high school.

“What’s gotten into you this morning?” Steve asked with a little smile, trying to laugh it off as if Tig was just goofing off.

“I just like having you here,” Tig confessed, reaching out to touch Steve’s arm gently. “I want you to stay.”

The weight of that sentence was crushing.

Tig’s expression closed off a bit when Steve did not react the way he had possibly hoped, and the guilt Steve felt was overwhelming. He would give anything to feel the same way, to want to stay the way Tig was asking him to and he wanted to say all of that. All Steve could do was turn his face away and mutter a soft, “shit.”

Behind him, Tig chuckled hollowly. “Yeah, shit,” he said before he scoffed. “Is it because of that guy back home? You were able to pretend you were fucking around with him until the feelings got too real?”

Steve flinched. “No, Tig. It has nothing to do with him,” he bit out as he stood up, fighting back guilty tears.

“Then what is it?” Tig was sitting up in the bed, jaw set with hurt and anger.

“Jesus fucking Christ, why are you doing this right now?” Steve asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have time to actually talk this out with you.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t,” Tig said flatly, not even angrily. Steve looked at him, somewhat alarmed at the suggestion, and Tig was looking at his bookshelf. “You can leave and we just go our separate ways.”

Steve stared at Tig, his mouth hanging open before he closed it with a click. He should just turn and leave, just as Tig suggested. He could do that, and justify it as doing as he was asked.

But Steve was never very good at running away.

“I’m sorry, Tig. I really am because I wish I felt like that for you. I hate that I don’t, I feel sick about it,” Steve said in a rush, looking down at his hands while he gathered his thoughts. “You’re one of my closest friends, you know things about me that only my sister knows, and if I could choose to fall for someone, I would choose you, Tig.”

“That makes no sense,” Tig argued, and Steve couldn’t blame him.

They shared so much, had been vulnerable and genuine and open in ways Steve hadn’t even felt with Robin in some ways. Yet there was this wall between them in the shape of Demogorgons, Demodogs, and Mindflayers and all the trauma that came with those. Over the months, there were days where Steve knew he couldn’t stay the night with Tig because the chances were good that he’d be waking up with a screaming nightmare. There were several times he canceled a trip out entirely because one of the kids was slow to respond to a check-in and Steve knew the entire weekend was toast.

And if he managed to fall for Tig the way he wished he could and Tig asked him to stay again, Steve couldn’t leave the kids until he was certain the Upside Down was gone. How could he possibly explain to Tig that he was going to stay in his homophobic hometown where his father lived for the kids he babysat? Especially since they were all plenty old enough to not need a babysitter?

There was an ocean of monsters and confidentiality agreements between Steve and anyone who was blissfully unaware of the evil alternate universe under Hawkins, and he couldn’t cross it while he was still barely staying afloat himself.

“You’re right, it doesn’t, but just… those are the facts,” Steve said weakly, his lip trembling. “I love you and need you in my life, but just… not the same way as you, and I promise I hate myself so much for that.”

“Steve, stop, I don’t want that,” Tig said and he shifted to sit at the edge of the bed and wrap his arms around Steve’s waist and pull him into a tight hug. “I don’t want you to beat yourself up over how you feel.”

“Why are you comforting me right now?” Steve asked, his voice pathetically small as he wrapped his arms around Tig’s shoulders.

“Because I’m hurt over something you can’t control, and you’re hurt because I was mean,” Tig said, his words a bit muffled against Steve’s chest. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

Steve let out a shaky sigh of relief, sniffling slightly as he petted Tig’s hair. “I think I could love you like that if I had more time,” he said softly, tipping his head back to blink up at the ceiling, tears falling back into his hair. “There’s just… a lot that I’m dealing with that I can’t tell you about.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tig sighed, then he tipped his head back to meet Steve’s gaze solemnly. His eyelashes and cheeks were damp with tears, and Steve’s heart broke again. “I can’t wait for you, though. And I’m not a strong enough person to keep sleeping with you either.”

“That makes sense,” Steve said, wiping Tig’s tears away. “Can I still call you to talk sometimes?”

“Yeah,” Tig said sweetly, smiling a bit. “And you better say hi when you come back out. No avoiding me because you think you’re doing me a favour.”

Steve laughed at that, even if it hit a bit too close to the truth of his character. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied instead.

“One more kiss for the road?” Tig asked, and he looked like he regretted asking the moment it left his mouth, but he let the question stand.

Steve nodded and stooped to press his lips to Tig’s. It was a soft, chaste, and desperately sad kiss that tasted of tears when it inevitably deepened.

Pulling away, Steve stepped out of Tig’s loose embrace and finished getting dressed.

“I’ll just see myself out?” Steve said as he grabbed his overnight bag and went to leave.

“Wait, Steve,” Tig stopped him, and when Steve turned to look at him, he was grabbing something off the desk next to the stereo. Crossing the room in a couple strides, he handed it to Steve and said, “I made this for you.”

Steve stared at the cassette case in Tig’s hand with wide eyes. No one had ever made him a mix-tape, but Tig had and was giving it to Steve, even though Steve broke his heart.

“You still want to give it to me?” he asked.

“It’s yours, Steve. I made it for you, so it’s not for me to keep,” Tig reassured him, and Steve took the mixtape.

“Thank you,” he said, and it sounded pathetic to his own ears.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” Tig said, and he turned away from Steve to go back to his bed. Steve could tell he was wiping away more tears.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed and he left Tig’s room, closing the bedroom door behind himself and hurrying out of the apartment to his car.

Once he was in the Beemer, he inserted Tig’s mixtape into the tape-deck. The moment the first song started, with the almost upbeat synths over hard guitars, Steve knew it was a tape of all of his favourite songs he’d noted as he listened to the various metal bands Tig liked.

Steve smiled, even as he teared up all over again and started the lonely drive back to Hawkins.

May 1986

Over the following months, Steve and Tig stayed friendly. They still called each other to talk, and sometimes Tig invited him out to Indy, but they were strictly friends without the additional benefits. Tig was almost always on the arm of another guy when Steve would arrive at the bar and usually left before Steve was done dancing and scoping out the possibilities.

Steve was popular with the alternative crowd, partly because of the three months he spent on Tig’s arm he was sure. He belatedly came to learn that Tig was actually fairly well-known in the scene in Indy, and by extension Steve was too, at least a little bit. That revelation had worried Steve at first, that it would hurt Tig if he fooled around with his friends and acquaintances.

Tig put a stop to that worrying one night when Steve was reluctant to flirt with a guy Tig encouraged to approach him.

One day in February, Tig invited Steve out to Indy specifically to meet his boyfriend Charlie.

They were adorable together, already settling into domestic habits that hinted at their future together. Charlie was a bit older than Tig and owned a home, which is where they hosted Steve when he visited. While he didn’t outwardly appear to be as deeply into the metal scene as Tig, when Charlie rolled up the sleeves of his sweater Steve was treated to the sight of tattoos covering every inch of his skin.

As Tig set Steve up in the guest bedroom that night, he asked nervously, “What do you think?”

Steve had blinked at him, confused. “About what?” he asked.

“Charlie,” Tig said, laughing and rolling his eyes. “What do you think about him?”

“I think I’m jealous you found him first,” Steve said with a smile at Tig. “He’s a great guy. You deserve him.”

Tig glanced away with a smile so fond and happy that Steve’s chest ached with how much he cared about Tig. He was so pleased that Tig got the happy ending he truly deserved, the one he never would’ve gotten if he stuck around waiting for Steve.

“I think I love him,” Tig confessed quietly, and Steve laughed.

“You just think you love him?” he asked skeptically and Tig covered his blushing face with both hands.

“Okay, fine, I’m definitely in love with him,” he mumbled into his palms and Steve grinned.

“I definitely think he’s just as gone on you, too,” Steve said after a bit, and Tig looked at him nervously.

“You think so?” he asked, and it was weird seeing Tig so off-balance and timid.

Steve pulled Tig into a tight hug, who returned it even tighter. “I know so, Tig,” Steve said firmly.

When Steve left the next morning, he promised to bring his sister to meet them when she was on spring break in a few weeks.

Between the world almost ending and waiting for Eddie to wake up, Steve had forgotten to call Tig and let him know what was up. He didn’t even think about the fact that the earthquake had made national news until a couple weeks after Eddie was discharged.

Steve was covered up to his elbows in flour in the kitchen when the phone started ringing, and he cursed a bit.

“I got it,” Eddie called from where he was lounging on the couch next to one of the receivers. Picking it up, he drawled in an almost sickeningly sweet tone, “you’ve reached the Henderson-Harrington-Munson household, how may I direct your call?”

Snorting a bit, even as his gut fluttered at Eddie inserting himself in the home he created with the Hendersons, Steve started to wash his hands.

Eddie hummed. “Hey man, slow down—Steve’s right—yeah, he’s just in the kitchen, alright? Hold on,” Eddie said in a calming voice, and Steve looked over his shoulder with a frown. His boyfriend was returning the expression, an eyebrow raised high as he pulled the phone away from his ear and held it out. “It’s for you, Stevie. His name is Charlie?”

“Oh, shit,” Steve gasped, hurrying across the phone to take the receiver from Eddie and sat down on the arm of the couch. “Charlie, I am so sorry. I can’t fucking believe I forgot to call you guys—”

“Steve, it’s okay, Jesus, I’m just relieved to hear your voice,” Charlie said with a quiet laugh, and then there was a bunch of noise on the other line as if Charlie was fumbling his phone in his hands.

Then the rustling noises stopped. “Steve, what the fuck?” Tig practically growled over the line.

“I am so sorry, Tig—”

“Do you fucking understand how out of my mind I’ve been? There was a huge fucking earthquake! We felt it all the way out here!” Tig said, properly shouting at Steve. There was no heat in his voice, only weeks of anxiety and worry being released, but Steve still flinched a bit.

“Tig, I know you’re upset and you have every right to be, I just need you to dial back the volume,” Steve said and instantly Tig took a deep breath.

“It was all over the news, about half of Hawkins being fucking leveled, and a ton of people still being missing, and there was some murderer running around?” Tig started again, this time much quieter but no less upset. “And then we couldn’t get through to you at all.”

“Yeah, the phone lines were out for a while,” Steve said weakly, chewing his lip.

“When we did get through, a woman answered the phone and said you were at the hospital?” Tig added and Steve groaned.

“That was Claudia, and she didn’t mean I was injured—” Eddie made a stern noise and poked Steve gently in the side, not hard enough to hurt but enough to get his point across. “Okay, I was injured, but I wasn’t at the hospital for that. I was there for Eddie.”

There was a long pause. “Like, Eddie Eddie?”

Steve felt his ears heat up a bit. “Yeah, that one,” he replied, and he could feel Eddie’s eyes on him. “He was at the hospital until the end of last month—”

“Wait, wait, is he the same Eddie that was on the news, with the murders and shit?”

Steve tensed up, his stomach sinking at the thought that Tig might have bought into the bullshit. “He had nothing to do with those,” he said firmly, his anger already crawling into his voice.

“Shit, Steve, I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. We only really got the news about the murders after everything else happened,” Tig said quickly and Steve slowly relaxed again. “Seriously, most of the news on that shit was a lot of ‘hick town recalls witch hunt on innocent nerdy metalhead following massive earthquake.’ I just meant if he was the same Eddie that was in the news as one of the Creel survivors.”

“Yeah, the very same,” Steve confirmed, sighing heavily. “I’m sorry, Tig, I should’ve called. There was just a lot going on.”

Tig sighed as well and Steve could hear Charlie murmur something. “Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry for yelling at you. I was just so fucking scared, Steve,” Tig said, and Steve could hear the tears in his voice.

“I know, it’s okay,” Steve said softly.

There was another pause before Tig asked, “So when can Charlie and I expect to meet him?”

Steve laughed loudly, tipping his head back. “He’s still healing. I’ll let you know when we can make the drive.”

“Sounds good,” Tig said before he sighed. “Don’t ever leave me off the post-emergency phone tree ever again, Steve, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise,” Steve agreed instantly and sincerely. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah, talk to you later. Love you,” Tig said, and Steve grinned.

“Love you, too, man,” he said and hung the receiver up. When he finally turned to look at Eddie, the other man was staring at him with his brow furrowed.

“Who was that?” Eddie asked.

“My friend Tig and his boyfriend Charlie,” Steve said with a shrug as he got up to go back to the kitchen. He knew that wasn’t the full answer Eddie wanted, but Steve kind of liked the way Eddie would get huffy at his vague answers.

“Okay, obviously I gathered their names and that they were boyfriends, but how do you know them?” Eddie asked as he got up shakily and followed Steve into the kitchen. When Steve looked over his shoulder, he saw Eddie standing in the doorway of the kitchen and leaning heavily on his cane.

“I met Tig in Indy, and then I met Charlie when Tig started dating him,” Steve replied as he got back to his baking.

“Is Tig one of the guys who popped your cherry?” Eddie asked and Steve grimaced.

“Okay, first off? Don’t say that phrase, it’s gross,” Steve insisted before looking at Eddie. “Are you going to be weird if I say yes?”

“I’m already weird, Harrington,” Eddie replied airily with a sniff.

“Fine, he was the first guy I did almost everything with,” Steve replied, rolling his eyes when Eddie let out a devastated noise behind him.

“I hate him,” Eddie claimed without any amount of sincerity and Steve just laughed as he heard Eddie shuffle back to the couch.

April 1987 - Bonus Track

Eddie was never nervous before a show.

Sure, he was jittery and scatterbrained, and even a bit short-tempered. But nervous? No. Being nervous would imply he didn’t think the band was talented or something. Plus, nowadays they had Steve around, helping them out with moving and setting up their equipment since Eddie couldn’t lift and haul things around like he used to. Having Steve’s steady presence helped ease any nerves anyone in the band might have.

Not Eddie though, because he was never nervous before a show. Not even this one, their first show since the world almost ended and their first show in Indy since ‘84. This show that was actually sold-out because apparently being framed for murder and then allegedly surviving being targeted by said murderer did wonders for your reputation as a metal band.

“Dude, if you don’t stop bouncing your leg, you’re gonna get exhausted before we even go out there,” Jeff said, gingerly grabbing Eddie’s knee and stopping the movement.

Eddie nearly snapped at him about it, but just barely stopped himself. Of course, Jeff was correct because now that he was stopped, he was forced to acknowledge the ache already settling into the muscle beneath the scar.

“What’s your deal anyway?” Gareth asked point-blank, because yeah. Eddie wasn’t acting normal.

The deal was that Steve apparently knew a fair bit of the metal scene in Indianapolis better than Eddie did. He even knew the bartenders there and a couple of the other bands that were playing that night, too. He didn’t stick around chatting very long with anyone, but it was obvious he was weirdly part of the community. Hell, when they arrived at the bar, there was practically a chorus of “Steve”s from the bartender and patrons alike.

The deal was that Eddie knew Steve had fooled around with a couple of these people, and that woke something possessive and territorial in his gut.

Eddie had understandably taken the first opportunity to say ‘mine’ as subtly as possible.

Which obviously meant he wasn’t subtle at all.

Shucking off his battle vest, Eddie held it out to Steve expectantly, clearly telling him without words to wear it. A wordless command to show all his metalhead friends who he belonged to now.

Steve had looked at the vest, then slowly lifted his gaze to Eddie’s face with a raised eyebrow and a very small part of Eddie worried took it too far. However, without breaking eye-contact, Steve took the battle vest and, in front of all his metalhead friends, shrugged it on over his leather jacket. Steve looked down at himself as he straightened the vest out, but when his gaze returned to Eddie, there was a simmering heat in his eyes that set Eddie on fucking fire.

Then Steve just turned around to sidle up to the bar for a drink.

“I’m just excited, Garebear,” Eddie said, and it wasn’t actually a lie. He was excited to perform, to show the world—or at least this dive bar in Indy—what Corroded Coffin could do, to prove that nothing could hold him back from the stage.

Eddie also just wanted to get through their set so he could get his mouth on Steve and mark him as his even more. He wanted to bite and scratch and bruise perfectly tanned and freckled skin, wanted to spell out PROPERTY OF EDDIE MUNSON with the marks. Eddie wanted to make Steve bleed, make him feel it for days so he couldn’t possibly forget who he belonged to.

And Eddie knew that wasn’t necessary, none of it, because he knew Steve was his, and Steve knew that too, happily reinforced that almost every single day, sometimes multiple times a day. Even beyond the sex they had. They were absolutely secure in their relationship together, and neither of them were worried about the other breaking what they had off.

Eddie just wanted the world—or at least this dive bar in Indy—to understand that. He wanted them to understand it and despair that they would never get to have Steve like they used to.

“Okay, now you look pissed,” Frank finally spoke up, and Eddie groaned. Couldn’t a guy have his revenge fantasies in peace?

“I’m fine! I’m excited! I’m just getting myself in the zone! Fuck off!” Eddie exclaimed, and then finally they were allowed to take the tiny stage.

The other guys took the stage ahead of Eddie, letting him take the stairs at his pace with his cane. Jeff was talking to the crowd to warm them up as Frank and Gareth got set up, and he introduced Eddie to what was actually a deafening cheer.

Seriously, being framed for murder and then gored by Demobats was the best thing to happen to his reputation with the people outside of Hawkins. He was absolutely wearing a tattered Iron Maiden shirt and jeans so full of holes they barely counted as pants, all just to show off the twisted knots of scarred skin.

As Eddie took his spot at the center of the stage and leaned back on the stool the bar provided, he immediately scanned the crowd with his eyes and instantly found Steve. He was still standing near the bar and cheering loud enough that his voice rose above the rest of the din.

Steve looked delicious, standing there in a shitty dive bar, wearing denim and leather like he actually belonged there. Steve had even indulged Eddie and let him put some eyeliner on him. That had made them almost late leaving the shitty little hotel room they were renting.

Grinning toothily at Steve, Eddie turned his attention to the rest of the crowd. “Hello Indianapolis! Been a while since we’ve been here,” Eddie said with a teasing lilt, shrugging as he looked back at the rest of the band. “Nothing too eventful happened for us, right guys?”

The crowd all snickered and cheered, and that was Gareth’s cue to count them in. Eddie stood up fully as he came in on the opening guitar riff, frowning as his leg twinged but it was easy enough to push through and the pain passed quickly. He should be able to get through most of the set standing as long as he didn’t do anything too wild while playing.

Despite generally being the face of Corroded Coffin, Eddie wasn’t the main vocalist. He shared that spotlight with Jeff, and he did a majority of the singing. Eddie was the lead guitarist, which meant he handled a lot of the more difficult guitar riffs and that was typically easier to do when he wasn’t focusing on vocals at the same time.

While performing, Eddie kept finding Steve in the crowd, meeting his gaze and smirking at the way Steve was so thoroughly engrossed in the performance. Steve had watched them practice and rehearse, but he’d never seen them perform and Eddie was fairly confident Steve enjoyed it.

Eddie did a bit of a flourish near the end of the next guitar solo, swiveling his hips in a filthy rolling grind behind his guitar. The movement had pain zapping through his thigh, but he was okay, he was perfect, because Steve’s mouth had dropped open and Eddie knew the man was blushing.

Once the song was over, Jeff started talking to the crowd again and gave Eddie a look that clearly said ‘sit the fuck down for a minute’ and Eddie rolled his eyes. Of course, he did sit on his stool because his leg was not happy after that little move with his guitar.

Eddie looked out toward Steve, who was frowning slightly at seeing him sit, but he smiled brightly when their eyes met.

Then a tall man with long blond hair walked up to Steve and touched his arm. Even from his vantage point on the stage, Eddie could tell the man was gorgeous with features so defined he looked like he was carved from stone. Steve turned his head, and Eddie was excited to watch his boyfriend rebuff the literal god vying for his attention.

But then Steve’s entire face brightened and then he hugged the man. Steve fully wrapped his arms around him, their bodies pressed flush against each other, and Eddie’s head filled with static.

The man pulled back, gestured at the vest Steve was wearing, and Steve just laughed and gestured at Eddie on the stage. When Steve’s gaze met Eddie’s, he froze under the weight of Eddie’s possessive glower.

Only a handful of songs left and then he could get down there himself to handle that situation.

Eddie did not look away from Steve for the rest of their short set, making promises with the heat of his gaze and the way he moved his hips as he played. The man leaned close to say something directly into Steve’s ear and Eddie could definitely tell his boyfriend was blushing, even from that distance.

That possessive, territorial thing inside Eddie roared to life and it took everything in Eddie to not end the set now and drag Steve into the nearest bathroom to mark him so deeply that the asshole wouldn’t even look at Steve again. He wanted to choke Steve on his cock before he bent Steve over one of the sinks and fucked his perfect little hole with only lube to ease the way. Wouldn’t even prepare him with his fingers, just bully his way in and fuck Steve until he sobbed. Eddie wanted Steve to feel his cock in his guts for days.

Three songs later, their set was done and Eddie barely put his guitar away in its case before he was striding across the bar to where Steve was standing with the blond man.

Steve looked over at him as he approached, his smile almost timid under the heat of Eddie’s possessive gaze.

“Stevie!” Eddie said with a toothy grin as he practically boxed Steve in against the bar. “What’d you think?”

“You were amazing,” Steve said, his voice a little breathless as Eddie leaned into his space and pressed his pelvis against Steve’s hip, letting him feel just how badly he wanted him already.

Eddie turned to finally acknowledge the blond man, and this time he noticed a second man standing with them, his hand in the blond man’s back pocket.

“Who are your friends, Stevie?” Eddie asked in a sickeningly sweet voice and Steve blushed deeply.

“This is Tig and his boyfriend, Charlie,” Steve replied and Eddie’s head filled with static all over again.

Tig, the man who fucked Steve first, taught Steve how to suck cock, got Steve into metal music, the very man Eddie declared a nemesis that he hated.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Eddie said, his tone perfectly pleasant in his opinion and Tig just smirked down at him.

“And I’ve heard lots about you,” Tig said knowingly, glancing at Steve. “Well before you guys finally got together, even.”

Now that had Eddie curious, but Steve kicked Tig's boot to shut him up. Tig stepped backward quickly and actually stuck his tongue out at Steve, revealing a tongue piercing. Looking back at Steve, Eddie’s mouth dropped open as he watched his boyfriend ogle the piece of hardware in Tig’s mouth.

Steve licked his lips as he looked at it, his eyes a bit hazy as he clearly thought about that piercing and what Tig likely did to him with it.

Eddie’s ears were ringing as Steve finalized plans for the next night with the other two men, and finally he was able to drag Steve to the dingy bathrooms at the back of the bar. Eddie barely got the door shut and locked behind them before he was devouring Steve’s mouth with a loud growl, hand curled tight in Steve’s hair.

His other hand made quick work of undoing his jeans and shoving them out of the way until his cock was free. With another growl, Eddie shoved Steve to his knees and his boyfriend immediately opened his mouth with a needy moan.

Eddie wasted no time pulling Steve onto his cock, guiding his perfect pink mouth up and down the hard length of it. Steve groaned at the rough treatment, his eyes fluttering when Eddie twisted his hand in his hair. With another possessive growl, Eddie buried his other hand into Steve’s hair and pulled until Steve whimpered and tears sprung to his eyes. Eddie fell back against the door, his bad leg shaking and threatening to buckle. Eddie wanted to scream; he was so frustrated, his head thumping against the door as he prepared to pull Steve off his cock before he collapsed.

He couldn’t even fuck his boyfriend’s throat in the bathroom of a seedy bar?

Without missing a beat, Steve crawled just a touch closer and then hoisted Eddie’s bad leg onto his shoulder. When Eddie looked down at him, Steve was looking up at him through damp lashes, the eyeliner smudged around his eyes and streaking his cheeks.

It was filthy, and perfect, and now they didn’t have to stop.

With a wicked grin, Eddie pulled Steve further onto his cock, hitting the back of his throat and making him gag which was still one of Eddie’s favourite noises.

Barely giving Steve enough time to recover, Eddie set a punishing pace for several thrusts before sliding his cock into his throat until Steve’s nose was buried in the hair at the base. Eddie loved to hold Steve there almost as much as Steve liked to shake with the effort of keeping his throat open while his breath ran out. Eddie loved the way Steve’s throat fluttered around his cock, the way Steve’s whole body would heave as his gag reflex was belatedly triggered. He loved the way the fingers wrapped around his thigh squeezed hard enough to bruise

Eddie was desperately close, so he pulled back to let Steve breathe again, and then he went back to fucking Steve’s mouth. Steve whimpered loudly, wantonly, his eyes rolling back as Eddie took what he wanted from him.

With a hiss, Eddie came hard and sudden, his cum painting Steve’s tongue before he bullied his cock as deep as he could to finish down Steve’s throat. Steve choked, his whole body shuddering with it, but when Eddie tried to pull him off, Steve refused to move.

Steve, the absolutely perfect boyfriend he was, sucked and swallowed around the cock in his mouth until Eddie was nearly sobbing with the stimulation. Only then did Steve let Eddie pull him off his dick.

When Eddie’s eyes focused on Steve’s face, he moaned at the sight of him with eyes half-lidded and smeared with black eyeliner, his chin coated in spit and cum. Steve openly played with the pool of spend still in his mouth before swallowing it loudly.

“Jesus, Eds, should’ve brought you out here to meet Tig a hell of a lot sooner,” Steve teased as he slid Eddie’s leg off his shoulder so he could stand. “You’re never that pushy.”

“Well, we’re not always in your slutty stomping grounds, now are we?” Eddie shot back and Steve just laughed.

“I was a slut in Hawkins too—”

“Not with other men though,” Eddie pouted, sniffing indignantly at Steve’s full laugh. Then Eddie started reaching for Steve’s pants. “C’mon, your turn.”

“Eds, you think you could just hold me with your cock down my throat and I wouldn’t fucking cream my pants?” Steve asked incredulously and that just had Eddie’s cock valiantly trying to wake back up.

“We should get back to the hotel,” Eddie said after a few moments.

Steve just smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Why’s that?” he asked knowingly.

“I need to make sure you have a decent limp to your step when we go to dinner at Tig’s tomorrow,” Eddie replied simply as he reached down between them to pull his pants back up his hips and do them up.

Steve just grinned and nodded, adjusting his pants a bit before practically carrying him out of the bathroom and then out of the bar.

FIN

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