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hier--soir · 3 months

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heart to heart

john price x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: john takes you away for the weekend, and nestled in a cottage on the countryside, you show him just how much you've been missing him. warnings/tags: long term boyfriend!john, john price never finishes his cigars, explicit smut, a little body worship, oral [m receiving], fingering [f], unprotected piv sex, multiple orgasms [m], some overstim [m], come eating x2, brief cock warming, idiots in love, porn with minimal plot. word count: 4.4k masterlist a/n: this was born out of me being physically unable to stop thinking about that middle picture being john price, so here we go follow @hier--soirupdates if you’d like to be notified when i share my writing

It hasn’t rained in six days.

Late autumn spins the countryside in its grasp; a warm cloak that sends the leaves golden and the grass dewy. In a small, unfamiliar kitchen you drop teabags into mugs and gaze out the window. Admire the vast acreage that surrounds the cottage, and the marshland beyond that.

The early morning rays are bright and cool, turning the cabinets a washy yellow colour around you as you wait for the kettle to boil.

Everything is quiet, calm. If you listen closely, past the sound of birds chirping and water bubbling, you can hear John’s heavy snores down the hall; still catching up on sleep after a long few weeks away.

When he came through the front door two nights ago, you’d been quietly surprised to see him home so soon. After not hearing much for almost a month, you’d resigned yourself to getting on with things in his absence. A fairly covert operation, you knew, so you’d spent your days waking to an empty house. Working and eating and showering alone and never exceeding the appropriate number of messages you could send him in one day without stirring worry. Little Angus with his long orange tail and his soft whiskers your only company in John’s stead.

Home at last, he’d wrestled out of his heavy boots and draped himself over where you lay on the couch. Soap opera long forgotten on the tele, he’d slipped an arm around the back of your head, held you to his chest and said, Let me take you somewhere.

The kettle whistles and you pluck it from the stove, still smiling at the memory. Douse the teabags in boiled water and watch as the windows cloud with steam. You leave his black, just the way he likes it, but soften your own with sugar and milk. Your toes are numb against the cool tile, and you rub them against your calf in search of warmth. Inside, your body is at sleepy old war with itself. One half longing to be back in bed, or perhaps to have not gotten up at all yet; the other half taking great pleasure in the mundanity of doing things like this for him again, after so long of not. Tap tap tap of an impatient finger against the counter until his tea turns the perfect colour, and then you’re on your way back to the room.

Leant amongst paisley patterned pillows and white linens, John looks a little out of place knuckling sleep from the corner of his eyes. A little too rough around the edges, too big, too hardened for such soft surroundings. In your brief absence, he’s drawn the curtains and nudged the window beside the bed open a crack. A long arm stretches out toward the sill, ashing a cigar onto the small dish he’s balanced there.

Naked as the day he was born, he lifts the cigar to his lips and blinks drowsily at you. Stretches his legs out, the muscles in his thighs straining, curled toes skimming the end of the bed. Eyes wandering, you kick the door shut with your foot and slink to the end of the bed, holding out his mug.

“’Morning,” he murmurs, voice still thick with sleep. Accepts the tea with a soft smile, the skin beside his eyes crinkling as he watches you crawl in beside him. Hands full, he twists an ankle around yours, face pulling up at the feel of your cold skin against his. “Jesus, you’re like ice. I’ll shut the window.”

“Don’t move,” you hush, nestling your head against his shoulder. “You’re right where I want you.”

John laughs softly, warm body vibrating against yours. “Is that right, sweetheart?”

“Mhm.” You watch him tap his cigar against the dish, sipping your tea and trailing fingers through the dark hairs on his stomach. Enjoy the way his body draws tense beneath your cool touch, goose flesh sprouting across his skin. “Middle of nowhere… unfamiliar town… no one will ever find you. You’re all mine out here, Price.”

“M’all yours everywhere,” he says, abandoning his cigar in the dish so he can tug on the neckline of your—his—t-shirt. “This proves it, yeah?”

“I suppose,” you smile, lifting your mug to hide behind a sip. He watches you move, calculating and quiet as he sips his own tea. You fidget beneath the intensity of his stare, painfully aware of how well he knows you. That your want, your need, must be painted across every inch of your face.

“Love you in my clothes, sweetheart, I do.” John’s fingers curl beneath the hem of the shirt then, rough callouses tickling over your collarbones. “But you’re makin’ me feel awful naked.”

Heat flares in the base of your stomach and you chuckle, matching smirks splashed across your faces as you sit up and drag the shirt over your head. He watches as you flick it to the floor, gaze darkening as he looks over your body, focusing on the thin grey panties that cover the skin between your thighs. A thick arm curls around your waist, tugging you back onto him, and as you settle there his fingers slip down to fiddle with the band of your underwear.

“Cute,” he comments airily, middle finger dropping under the band to caress the skin beneath it.

Mug discarded off the side of the bed, you put both hands to his stomach now. Tickling his soft skin, playing with the hair there as you lean in and press a kiss to the centre of his chest. And then another, and another, with John simply humming, palm flattening against the small of your back to hold you against his side.

Your lips part, tongue dancing lazily against his nipple. Soft strokes until the flesh is stiffening and you’re practically purring against his skin, drifting across to the other one. You hear the soft clink of his mug hitting the side table, and then John’s hand falls against the back of your head. Thick fingers twist through your hair, playing as you kiss and lick over his collarbones, and the little tugs he gives have a low throb starting up between your legs.

“Feelin’ needy this mornin’, hey lovey?” John asks. His fingers come to the front of your face, cupping your jaw and forcing you to look up at him. Big blue eyes watch you pout, cheeks squished between his fingers as you nod.

“I missed you,” you say, turning to press your nose into his palm and inhale the smell of him.

His eyes soften, and all sense of teasing seems to slip out the window. “I know, sweetheart, m’sorry. Come here’n give us a kiss.”

His lips are soft against yours. Warm, and familiar, with a hint of Darjeeling. Pulling you up to straddle his waist, he coaxes your chest down against his and huffs into your mouth at the feel of your nipples against his skin, teeth sneaking out to smart at your bottom lip.

“Thought about you every day,” he mumbles against your lips. “Missed you every second, love, always do.”

You feel something hot and sharp spark behind your eyelids at those words, and flick your tongue against the seam of his lips, pushing it away, not now not now. You go soft and pliant against him; let him guide you through the kiss, coaxing your mouth open with his long tongue as his fingers dance down your spine. When his hand reaches the round of your ass he grips your flesh there, kneading it between his fingers and pushing down so your clothed cunt comes flush with his cock.

“Feel that?” John says, pulling away an inch to nose at your cheek. His cock is heavy between your legs, thick and stiff where it presses against the gusset of your panties. You gasp as he rocks his hips up, grinding against you until the damp fabric slips between your slick folds and rubs over your clit. “That’s how much I missed you, sweetheart.”

As he talks, the hairs on his moustache prickle against your lips, and you find yourself opening your mouth. Breathy moans spill as you roll your hips against his, lathing hot opened mouthed kisses over his jaw.

“Looked at your picture every night,” he continues raggedly, breath hitching as you suck at the hollow of his throat. His cock twitches against you, the slide only getting smoother as more slick spills into your panties. “Thought about comin’ home ‘n’ never leavin’ again, just so I could play with this pretty little cunt whenever I like.”

Your hips stutter into his and you whine, a tiny glimpse of an orgasm fluttering through you just from those words.

“S’yours,” you whisper against his skin, the words he spoke moments before dancing through your mind. “All yours everywhere.”

Faster than he can stop you, you’re slipping off his lap and settling beside him on the bed. Continuing the onslaught, you lick hot, messy kisses over the skin of his neck, across the broad span of his shoulders.

“My big man,” you say tenderly, fingers itching their way across his chest. You skirt your teeth down the middle of his sternum, squeaking a little when he murmurs in enjoyment and presses a hand to your ass again. “I missed your body so much.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.”

“Show me then,” he goads lightly, grunting around a smirk when you sink your teeth into the soft flesh over his ribs in response.

His fingers toy with the material of your panties as you drag your tongue over the dip of his belly button, and when you kiss the soft curve of his lower stomach, nose buried in the dark hairs above it, you feel him grip the fabric tight. You can see his cock in your peripheral vision. Swollen and heavy against his hip now. The tip has turned a pretty shade of dark pink, accented by little streaks of white where pre-come oozes from his slit and glides down his throbbing shaft. With your mouth on his belly, you reach out and wrap your fingers around him.

“Fuck,” John grunts, head lolling back against the pillows.

You smile, stroking him slowly as you drag your nose through his thick happy trail, all the way down to nuzzle against the dark thatch of curls above his base. Insistent now, his fingers push beneath the edge of your panties and drag through your slick seam.

You whimper, forehead resting heavily against his skin as he slides two fingers through the wet mess of you. Lewd sounds of your arousal fill the room as John traces featherlight circles around your clit, and your face heats against his stomach, fingers returning to their lazy pace around his length.

The throb between your legs has become a second heartbeat now, so strong that you’re sure he must feel it beneath his fingertips. If he does, he just sighs softly. Lets the thrumming of your cunt sync with the pulse in his fingertips, heart to heart, and murmurs low encouragements as you tilt your head to the side and begin mouthing at his cock.

“Missed my cock.” Your voice is low and unfamiliar in your ears, mouth overrun with desire and spilling your guts before you can stop it. “So pretty, John…”

Circling your entrance with a thick finger, he just says, “I know, love, s’yours. Go on.”

As slow as you can bring yourself to be, you lay gentle kisses down the entire length of him. Wetting your lips and gliding them over his warm, silken skin, before dipping lower and sucking his balls between your lips. A harsh grunt sounds behind you, and, as if in retaliation, he sinks two thick fingers inside you. You moan around his sensitive skin, holding his balls in your mouth and jerking him off until he’s trembling beneath you, broad thighs straining as he tries to hold himself together.

“That’s good, love,” he murmurs softly, almost speaking to himself as he curls his fingers inside you, humming when you grind into his hand. “Need ta get my fuckin’ mouth on you.”

But you just shake your head. Let his balls slip from your mouth with a soft pop before sticking out your tongue and guiding the weeping tip of his cock towards your mouth. Hasty, too needy for your own good, you slip your lips around him and try to take him deep on the first pass. Out of practice after weeks away, your throat constricts and you choke a little around him. So big, so overbearing, you’re too eager to be filled by him that you push and push until you’re gagging and sputtering. Cheeks hot and eyes downturned, you draw back, skin prickling as you hear him say something past the rushing in your ears. Take a moment to catch your breath and ground yourself, fingers tight on his thigh as your tongue swirls around his tip.

“This what you missed then?” he’s saying, collecting your hair in his fist to keep it off your face. “Hm, missed bein’ all full of me?”

“Mhm,” you hum around him, pulling back with a gasp only to press his head against your cheek. Eyes closed, you rub his ruddy tip against your chin, your lips, painting your skin with his precome. Feel the weight of him warm your skin and sigh in quiet delight. And when he groans, exhaling a heavy, ragged breath, you press your mouth around him again, desperate to hear him make that sound over and over again.

“Easy, darlin’, lemme see you,” John chokes out, thumbing sliding over the apple of your cheek. “So pretty with your lips around my cock.”

Heat floods your chest, and you drool around him. The words seem to trigger something in your mind, some insatiable desire to please, to make him feel good, because you’re relaxing, sinking your mouth down further on him. A low, drawn-out curse falls from his lips, fingers curling in the hair behind your ear.

Gaudy sounds of sucking and slurping fill your ears, and you would be self-conscious if it weren’t for the way John’s growls met them in the air. Wordlessly, he slips a third digit inside and the stretch brings a dull burn that has your mouth slowing against him.

Your eyelids flutter as his thick fingers stroke at your walls, searching for the spot that makes you spill every time, but your wanton cries of desperation are muffled by the heavy weight of him on your tongue. In slow, measured movements, he begins to shift his hips in time with your head. Feeding his cock to you and grunting when he feels your throat go soft and easy around him, letting him slip further in until your nose buries in the hair at his base.

John watches you, the blue in his eyes almost entirely swallowed by desire fattened pupils. Rakes his gaze over the way your lips stretch around his thick cock, tears dancing on your lashes as you take him in your throat. The heady taste of him is intoxicating, and you can only hold his gaze for so long before your eyes are rolling back, stomach pulling tight as you swallow around him.

Stuffed to the brim with John, John, John. He’s everywhere, filling your mouth, your aching cunt; it sends your heart racing, thighs trembling as your orgasm begins to crest.

Molten heats swims in the base of your stomach, curling and bubbling there as he you ride his long fingers, moaning his name around his cock. But just as you feel everything begin to go tight and tingly, John’s pulling on your hair and dragging you off him.

A thin strand of spit dangles between his tip and your mouth and he snarls at the sight, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip.

“Fuck, c’mere,” he huffs, squeezing insistently at your shoulders. “Wanna feel you on my cock when you come for me, yeah?”

Mind a hazy blur, you let the weight of him fall from your mouth, the hinge of your jaw still burning as you peel your underwear down your legs and spread yourself over his lap. John doesn’t pull his hand away though. No, he keeps his fingers between your legs, pumping them in and out, slowly, as you hover over his cock.

“My girl,” he says, eyes focusing on where the puffy lips of your cunt almost touch his cock. “My filthy, sweet girl.”

“John,” you puff his name, abdomen tensing when he rubs his thumb against your clit. Balanced on your knees and the tips of your toes, your legs shake a bit. Fingers dance forward to touch his shoulder, desperate for an anchor.

You frown a little, swollen lips parted in a torturous mix of desire and confusion, but he just offers a filthy grin and says, “Tell me you missed me again.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you smart instinctually, lips twitching when he barks a laugh and slips his fingers from your wet clutch, grasp drifting to your waist. “Please.”

“There she is,” he rumbles, jaw tensing as you glide his tip through your folds, coating him in your slick. A heavy rush of air spills from his nose. “My impatient girl.”

Once he’s got you on his cock, it doesn’t take long for you to fall apart.

He lets you keep having it your way for a bit. Watches, gaze heavy, as you bounce on his cock, hands gripping his shoulders for leverage. You squirm on him, face twisted up as you adjust to the thick stretch of him after so long. It burns and aches between your thighs, but you can’t help but keep coming back for more, sinking down on his length faster each time. He tilts his head forward to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, moaning against the plush of your breast when you arch your back, crying out at the feeling of his teeth on the sensitive bud.

After a while he slots his greedy lips against yours. Presses hot, sucking kisses to your mouth, swallowing down every gasp and moan that crawls its way up your chest. The bristles of his facial hair scratch at your cheeks, your nose, and you love it. Have desperately missed the way it warms your skin as he presses his tongue inside your mouth and tastes behind your teeth.

Using his hold on your hips, he rolls you against his lap. Meets you thrust for thrust until you start to soak his length, jaw going slack as he growls into your open mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell, love, that’s it,” John groans, fingers tightening on your waist as your cunt pulls tight and hot around him. Thighs shaking, you let your forehead fall against his chest and ride out the flood of your orgasm. “I know, darlin’, I know, I’ve got you.”

Fingers fly up to grip the back of your neck, his other arm snaking around your waist as he continues fucking up into you. His cock presses hot and heavy into that soft, gushy spot deep inside you and you shudder against him, helpless little moans slipping from your parted lips. Face smushed against his hairy chest, you drool a little. Feel it pool between his pecs and smear across your cheek as your eyes roll back, dopamine pounding in your veins as he pushes you relentlessly through the high.

“Gonna let me fill you up?” he’s panting, feet planted on the bed now as he bucks into you, hips stuttering as he sinks closer and closer to his end. “Fuck, I’m gonna make a right mess of you, darlin’. That’s it, lovey, show me that pretty face.”

“John,” you mewl, toes curling against the sheets. “Shit, oh shit.”

“Christ,” he grunts when you meet his eyes, jaw pulled tight. “So tight, m’ gonna come—”

“Wait,” you mumble suddenly, senses sharpening despite the way your thighs still shake against his hips. John stills immediately, grip tightening on your waist. “In my mouth, I want you in my mouth.”

His face crumples at that, a guttural noise sputtering from his lips as you lift off him and slip down to rest between his legs. He nods, brushing hair back off your face as you sink your mouth down on him, slick tongue hungry on the underside of his pulsing cock. He mutters your name, tells you how perfect you feel as he rocks his hips forward, tip nudging the back of your throat with every careful thrust.

“My sweet girl, doing so good for me,” he breathes, a coy grin on his face and a firm hand at the base of your skull. He holds your head in place as he fucks your mouth with slow, steady strokes. Groans every time you swallow, warm wet throat drawing tight around his swollen head.

“Look at me, let me see those eyes,” he mutters urgently, tugging on your hair until you’re blinking, focusing blurry eyes on his face. He thumbs at the teary streaks on your cheeks and gives a rough, prolonged groan as he begins to spill down your throat. “Fuck, fuck.”

You bob your head as his cock twitches and jerks against your tongue, sucking until he’s filled your mouth with warm come and it starts seeping from the corner of your mouth, dribbling down his shaft. You catch the spill with your fingers, swallowing his thick spend down and then licking what’s left from your trembling hands.

John watches on, chest heaving, and tuts fondly when you whimper, head spinning with the salty taste of him on your tongue.

“Bloody hell,” he exhales after a moment, dragging his knuckles over his face. “We’re never goin’ home.”

You laugh, drowsily nuzzling your cheek against the inside of his thigh as his cock softens against his stomach. John cards his fingers through your hair absentmindedly, legs still twitching and eyes drifting closed as he tries to catch his breath. Lips slick with spit and come, you lay soft pecks along his sweaty skin. Smile when he shudders, fingers tightening against your scalp, but doesn’t pull you off.

There’s a hot flush of red splashed across the skin of his neck, his cheekbones, and his stomach is still warm to the touch when you reach out to graze his soft flesh. Sated and sleepy, he wets his lips and continues to play with your hair. Lovingly curls strands of it around his fingers and tugs gently before letting go, only to pick a new strand and do it again.

Overcome with emotion, and unable to stop yourself, you lean forward and take his soft cock back into your mouth.

John hisses through his teeth in surprise, eyes flashing open.

You don’t do anything crazy yet. Just let him feel the warmth of your mouth around him, the soft glide of your tongue against the ridge around his head. When he doesn’t pull you off after a second, you give him a little suck. Not hard—just enough to make his hips flinch down into the mattress and his legs pull tight at your sides.

“Fuck,” he exhales, face pinched. His hand trembles against your head. “Fu—hang on, fuckin’ hell, love.”

You peer up past his stomach to where his mouth hangs open and his eyes are shiny and wide. His nails scratch against your scalp. Needy little nudges that blur the line between too much and not enough. You hum in pleasure around him when a choked sound falls from his mouth. Feeling a little mean, though, you pull back, licking your lips and smiling apologetically.

“Sorry,” you murmur, face hot as you squeeze his thigh. “Just want to love on you a little longer, that’s all.”

He hums deep in his chest, brow creasing a little as he brings his big hands to cup your face. His thumb swipes at your chin, smearing the saliva there, and you part your lips for him. He makes a sort of pained sound as he slots the digit into your mouth and watches you hollow out your cheeks out around it, swirling your tongue and sucking like you’d done to his cock just moments ago.

“Christ,” John breathes. Something needy and desperate glints in his eye, and he slips his finger from your mouth. Grips the back of your neck and gives a short nod. “Gonna be the death of me, ain’tcha?”

Guided by his hand, you take him back in your mouth and sigh in relief. Your eyelids flutter closed, and you rest your face against his hip, taking deep breaths through your nose and just holding him like that for a while. You can hear the way his breathing goes haggard above your head; short sharp bursts of air huffing from his nostrils. Sensitive as he must be, John lets you have your fun, shivering and spiting low curses as your touches get increasingly needier. And when you begin to suck softly at his length again, he seems unable to help the way his strong legs writhe against the mattress.

He says your name, rough and urgent, when you pull back only to snake your tongue out against his slit. Eyes fluttering open, you look up at him as you lathe your tongue down his length, smiling at how red his face has gotten, at how he seems to be holding his breath. John’s cock starts to swell and stiffen beneath your touch.

“D’you want me to stop?” you whisper, tracing the blue vein that pulses down the side of his length with your tongue.

“No,” he pants, head lolling from side to side. “Fuck no, gorgeous. Just go easy on me, yeah? It’s ohh—” he winces “—s’a lot.”

You nod understandingly and press a kiss to his tip, smearing the fresh pearl of precome there against your lips. He’s fully hard now, throbbing when you wrap your fingers around his thick base and wrap your lips around his head. A guttural sound rips from his chest and he’s tugging at your hair. For a moment you pause, unsure, but then he’s pushing a little on you. Nudging you closer, further, so you take him deeper and deeper until his tip is nudging against your throat.

“Fuck,” John gasps, hips stuttering against your palms, sensitive cock twitching against your tongue. “S’too much, love, it’s—oh fuck.”

With a ragged grunt his cock pulses in your mouth, and a little spurt of come dribbles from his head. You moan, eyes closed, and swallow tight around him, milking every last drop of spend from his cock until he’s winded and clumsily pushing you off of him.

Breathless, you fall flat on the mattress beside him, feet dangling off the end of the bed. John’s broad palm cradles the back of your head still, a comforting weight as you wipe your face against the sheets.

Ears pricking, you realise it’s begun to rain outside. Soft patters of liquid that knock against the window, thin rivulets that drip down to splash and splutter against the sill. Long forgotten, his cigar sizzles and dies beneath the spray.

“Another tea?” you murmur finally, pushing up onto your elbows.

But with a soft, startled laugh, you find that John’s eyes are closed, chest rising with steady breaths; already back to sleep. Shaking your head a little, you smile fondly at his lax form, and consider closing the window. You settle instead for pulling the duvet from the corner of the bed. Curled against his thick side, you settle the blanket over the two of you and lay an arm over his stomach, content to have a proper lie in after such a busy morning.

thanks for reading, i'd love to hear what you thought x

#my writing #fic: heart to heart #john price x reader #john price smut #john price fanfiction #john price x you #john price cod #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price smut

894 notes · View notes

luvmmarner · 1 year

Text

PROMPTS OF ALL PROMPTS

I would definitely make intense smut prompts later! For now I hope you enjoy these fluff angst prompts instead! Requests are always opened!

For others that want to use these prompts! You're free to do so! Just tag me no need to credit. I would love to read it and see what you came up with! -- FLUFF PROMPTS

“Can you hug me”

“My teammates gets annoyed because I talk about you 24/7”

“Can we have a date night tonight?”

“Do you know you're pretty”

“Why are you being a pain?”

“Stop simping for me you simp”

“Your blushing you idiot”

“Are you kidding me? I love cuddles”

“Your hair smells good.”

“I just want to lay here all day”

“Can you wash my hair for me?”

“I really need you right now”

“I like you.. well no… I love you”

“I love your smile”

“You sent me inappropriate pictures. When I was out in public”

“Why are you so clingy?”

“Fine. We can stay home tonight”

“Dance with me in the rain”

“Let’s jump in the puddles!”

“Can I sit on your lap?”

“Kiss me please!”

“Can you rub my arm in circles?”

“I’m wearing your shirt if that’s fine!”

“This still smells like you” (long distant or for breakups)

“Your mom gave me pictures of you when you were a baby.”

“Stop you’re making me blush in public”

“Don’t… I’m ticklish —“

“I can’t sleep can I stay here”

“I had a nightmare…”

“I care about you”

“You mean everything to me”

“You make me feel like I’m at home every time”

“Can I give you a hug? You look like you need one”

“Stop denying it! You need sleep”

“You’re so adorable.”

“You make me so happy.”

“I need pads”

“I don’t ever want to lose you”

“I feel better now that you’re here with me”

“It’s like we are meant to be”

“I’m not going anywhere”

“I feel safe when I’m with you”

“I can’t reach the top shelf.. Can you help?”

“Here take my jacket.”

“I just started my period…”

“I’m right here baby, it’s okay”

“I’m so in love with you.”

“I’m never leaving you.”

“You're mine forever.”

“Should we make it official?”

BEACH PROMPTS

“Can you do my sunscreen?”

“Why is your massages better than you scratching my back”

“Please come in the water”

“Stop it’s cold!”

“I'm going to splash you!”

“My sandcastle is better than yours”

“I won!”

“Don’t throw me in the water!!!”

“I’m trying to tan”

“Stand in front of me you block the sun”

“Can you give me a piggyback”

“The sand is hot”

“Come with me on the floatie!”

“Can you set up the umbrella?”

WINTER PROMPTS

“it’s snowing!”

“We are locked in…”

“Let’s look at the stars through the window”

“Can we bake gingerbread cookies”

“You got frosting on your face”

“It’s so cold..”

“I love hot coco.”

“Look! I caught a snowflake in my mouth!”

“You got snow in your hair!”

“My snowman is better!”

“Whoever gets to the bottom of the hill first wins!”

“It’s freezing, could you turn on the heat?”

“Snowball fight!!!”

“I got snow in my boots, now my feet are cold.”

“Dw! I’ll warm you up!”

“Let’s build a fort!”

“This is the perfect time to set up the Christmas tree!”

“Ooh! I love sledding!”

“Woo! That was sooo fun!”

“Here! I made this one just for you!”

“You have such good decorating skills!”

SUMMER/CAMPING PROMPTS

“It’s so hot!”

“Can I borrow your hat please?”

“May you buy me a slushie? I forgot my wallet”

“The mosquitoes are killing me”

“Here let me spray you”

“Let’s go on a hike!”

“The sun is so bright.”

“Did you forget the sunscreen.”

“Baby, can you get my backside please?”

“I want to go swimming.”

“Can we just stay inside!”

“This is the perfect spot to set up our campsite.”

“I got the marshmallows!”

“I’ll help you set up the tent. But.. I don’t know how.”

“I’m already tired.”

“Let's roast marshmallows!”

“I made a smore just for you!”

“We can share.”

“Come swimming with me!”

“The water is sooo warm.”

“I rented a boat. You know how to drive it right..?”

“Don’t worry, of course I got the beer.”

“I love summer parties.”

“No… I didn’t steal your towel… Ok fine I did”

“Put me down – Ok ok fine fine! You win.”

“Can we go on a road trip?”

“You pushed me into the water, you jerk!”

“I couldn’t help myself… All the ice-cream flavours looked so good!”

“I didn’t buy any more ice cream.. The receipts are lies!!!!”

“Can we stay longer!!”

ANGST/ARGUMENT/BREAKUP PROMPTS

“You promised me.”

“You lied. You said you would never leave me.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know everything”

“Please don’t do this.”

“I loved you.”

“Why don’t you trust me”

“This can’t be goodbye.”

“Please don’t walk out.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t love you.”

“We were never meant to be.”

“I just wanted to be enough for you.”

“I don’t forgive you.”

“Stop saying sorry! It’s always ‘I’m sorry’. When you really aren’t”

“If you’re sorry, why did you leave me?”

“You thought I was dumb.”

“I know you’re lying.”

“Why did I fall in love with you.”

“I’m so stupid to think we had something.”

“You never cared about me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop being selfish.”

“I moved on.”

“You cheated on me.”

“This isn’t working…”

“No. We can’t… we are too toxic for each other.”

“Why me..”

“Us? There was never an ‘us’.”

“I’m done.”

“It’s better if we just stop seeing each other.”

“I can’t love you.”

“You broke my heart so carelessly. Now you want forgiveness?”

“You don’t deserve me.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Your always mad at me.”

“What do you want? Because I could care less.”

“I was such a fool.”

“You talked to her and then lied about it.”

“You told people that you were single…”

“I thought you loved me..”

“How could you…”

“That’s not going to happen. I already told you.”

“What's wrong with you seriously?”

“You lost me”

“Where’s your new gf/bf?”

“Shouldn’t you be with your new gf/bf”

“I thought things were going amazing”

“I thought wrong…”

“This is goodbye.”

“Don’t you love me?”

“I can’t live without you.’

“What did you expect me to say?”

“Our relationship is in the past. I’m sorry.”

“I like someone else.”

“This will be the last time you lie to me.”

“How did you think this wouldn’t hurt me?”

“I think it’s best if we don’t meet again.”

“You didn’t love me, did you?”

“I hope you're happier.”

“At least you got what you wanted”

“I was miserable and I still loved you.”

“Stop pretending. You wanted me like this… You wanted me broken and you got what you wanted.”

“We can’t keep talking. This isn’t healthy.”

“It’s best if we stop talking… like forever.”

“You're not the same person I fell in love with.”

“You don’t own me.”

“You act like everything is fine when it’s not!”

“Can we not argue for once.”

“Not now. Not even in a million years. I would ever think to give you another chance.”

“I fell for your lies again, and now I’m not anymore.”

“I was nothing to you. I was only a toy for you to manipulate and I fell for it.”

“Why wouldn’t you admit to everything! This was all your fault.”

“I hate you.”

“I despise you.”

“You were my ride or die.”

“I don’t fall in love. I don’t want to be loved or love someone else.”

“If I leave you know you would never see me again.”

“I deserve better.”

“You were my first and would be my last.”

“Don’t – Don’t make me fall in love again.”

“You know we can’t..”

“I know this is random and we haven’t talked in awhile.. But can you stay with me one more night and just forget about everything.”

“It was indeed. The wrong place the wrong time”

“Good for you!”

“Why can’t you be happy for me for once?”

“We shouldn’t be together anymore. I’m supposed to hate you.”

“How could I be so oblivious..”

“Why did I even think I could be enough for you.”

“I needed to hold you once more.��

“I don’t understand.. Wha- what are you saying..”

“I don’t want to say something I’ll regret later.”

“Don’t bother to call me when you need something later.”

“I didn’t mean to. I was just mad..”

“Please forgive me.”

“Why are you suddenly coming back into my life after I just started to do good.”

“Do you not understand the words ‘I’m done’.”

“Haha! You think I love you? That’s pathetic.”

FICS/STORY IDEAS

Here’s some storyline ideas. You can decide if you want it angst or fluff or whatever! I don’t mind if you take this ideas. You don’t need to credit just a tag, so I could read it! Would be great!

All the promises were already broken.

Just one more night with no feelings, nothing. After that we forget.

Reader finds out their relationship was nothing, but a lie.

He wanted her back. She moved on.

Even after breaking up. They still find ways back to each other.

He manipulated her and she fell for it.

They are toxic for each other. But always end up in bed with each other.

He wanted her back but she isn’t giving him another chance.

He left her and she still wanted him back.

They were never meant to be and they knew that. They just can’t let each other go.

She just wanted to be enough for him, but he didn’t care.

He cheated and she found out. Now he realized he can’t live without her.

He didn’t deserve her. But her love for him is stronger.

They thought they had something. But then decided it was best if they stopped seeing each other.

She always forgave him, but this time she didn’t.

How could you be in love with someone who is always mad at you. She knew it was best if she just left. But after everything they've been through it wasn’t going to be easy.

She couldn’t love him as much as she wanted to. It was forbidden to sleep with someone you worked for. But she couldn’t help but ignore the rule.

He was such a fool for letting her into his life. But maybe it was the best thing to happen to him.

They broke up, but they can’t live without each other.

Their relationship was fragments of the past, but deep down their love was still stronger than ever. What happens when they meet again?

She thought things were going amazing. Well she thought wrong.

He got what he wanted and he was happy. Meanwhile she was still broken and miserable.

Their relationship was amazing at the start. But over time the person that she fell in love with wasn’t the same.

After years of talking. They decided it was best if they stopped. Maybe it actually didn’t stop in the end.

He didn’t listen and thought everything was fine. She knew everything wasn’t fine and just wanted him to listen.

She despised him. He was arrogant and only cared about himself. That was until he gave her a ride home.

She didn’t want to fall in love with him again until his touch made her do the one thing she didn’t want to do ‘fall in love again’.

They stopped talking, but he called her wanting just one more night to forget about everything.

No denying they loved each other. But this was their third breakup. It was just best if she left for good.

He was her first love and would be her last. (either she could meet someone else or something!)

He didn't care about any girls and most importantly. He didn’t fall in love. That was until he saw her and his whole life changed.

She knew he was pretending and she wasn’t falling for it.

After years of dating they finally said the 3 words. ‘I love you’

Maybe being snowed in wasn’t so bad after all.

He didn’t seem to understand the words ‘I’m done.’ If they were done, why was she in his bed again.

After years of apologizing. Apology accepted.

After she said don’t ‘bother calling when you need something’. Turns out it was her in the end calling for something.

Maybe jealousy is something that can reunite the flame that was lost.

He was jealous and she didn’t care.

She didn’t trust him. Until one night when drinks got the best of her, and waking up on his couch realized how wrong she was.

She thought he didn’t love her. Until he showed her how much he did.

He didn’t understand that she was breaking up with him. She wanted so badly to say no. But her desires got the best of her.

#prompt list #prompt fluff #fluff prompts #angst prompt #angst prompts #writing prompts #prompts #angst #fluff #winter prompts #beach prompts #summer prompts #camping prompts #fun prompts #writing #prompt idea #prompt ideas #smut ideas #smut prompts

4K notes · View notes

andvys · 3 months

Text

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 29

Warnings: major angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of an ED. get your tissues out, brace yourself for some pain. I cried and so will you. I'm so sorry for this.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Steve shows up at your doorsteps and you take care of him, the way you always did.

Word count: 10.5k+

A/N: shoutout to @hellfire--cult for helping me with this, I couldn't do this without you Roe, I would've given up, this was so hard for me to write. I need therapy now. Also thank you to my sweet angel bff @taintedcigs for being there for me while I was losing it, you're both real ones

To make this even sadder, listen to the 1, the last time, betty, the outro of all too well by Taylor Swift. Oh and Scott Street by Phoebe Bridgers. Thank me later.

series masterlist

It’s still pouring, the rain is still rolling down your closed windows and the lightning continues to crash through the sky. You can’t fall asleep. You’ve been trying to since you came home, but you can’t. You thought a hot shower would help make you tired, but it didn’t. Now you’re laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling.

You are too giddy to fall asleep. Your heart is still racing. Your skin still feels on fire. You can’t even fight the smile off your face. You feel his hands on your body, his lips on your skin, him. You regret not letting him come home with you. Your bed has never felt emptier. You turn to look at the telephone on your nightstand, contemplating giving him a call but you decide against it when you take a look at the clock, it’s 3am. He must be sleeping already.

Your eyes fall on the picture that wiped the smile off your face when you walked into your room earlier. A sigh falls from your lips. You need to talk to him. You need to talk to Steve.

This night has changed everything.

Your feelings have changed. They have evolved into something even bigger. You have been aware of your feelings for Eddie for a while now, but you never let them out completely. You were too afraid, too scared to get rejected, too scared to lose him because you once again, couldn’t stop yourself from falling for your best friend.

Your best friend who wants you just as much as you want him.

Your stomach flutters and a smile tugs at your lips – your lips that are still tingling from the feeling of all the kisses. You touch them, closing your eyes as you picture him, the way he held you, the way he said your name, the way he couldn’t get enough of you, the way he was so proud to call himself yours. He’s been dreaming about this, he’s been dreaming about you for months.

You never thought that you could feel this way again. You never thought that you could smile again at the thought of someone else. You never thought that you would love again.

Not after him.

Steve had shattered your heart in a million pieces. He stripped you of your powers. He took everything away from you. He made you doubt yourself and everyone around you. You suffered for weeks and months, not knowing how to keep going, not knowing how to get out of bed every morning. You stopped eating. You stopped reading. You lost your joy in the things you used to love doing. You felt so lost and hopeless but you forced yourself to keep going. It felt like learning how to walk again.

But you weren’t alone, you had the people who cared for you.

But most importantly, you had him. Eddie was there. Eddie was there for you, every step of the way. He never left, not even on your worst days. He was there, he was always there and he stayed.

Your heart skips a beat and your chest fills with warmth when you think of all the times he cheered you up and gave you a shoulder to cry on. When he took care of you despite you not asking him to. He stopped by the coffee shop every morning to get you a coffee and some breakfast, sometimes he came late to school because of it but he didn’t care. He’d take you out to the diner, knowing that you haven’t been eating, he brought you your favorite snacks for movie nights. He knew you were struggling to eat and he did everything to help you without pressuring you to talk about something that he knew would make you uncomfortable.

He gave you the reassurance that you needed.

He took care of you in ways no one else ever did.

And he never asked for anything back either.

He just did it because he wanted to, because he cares about you, because you mean something to him, because you always meant something to him, because you were always something more than a friend to him and he always wanted what’s best for you. All while watching you pine after a guy who broke your heart. He even gave you hope that maybe, you and Steve could find your way back to each other someday – all just because he wanted you to be happy.

You don’t know what comes over you, but tears well up in your eyes.

Eddie always just wanted you to be happy.

You sit up, no longer wanting to wait for the next day to come, you need to see him now.

You throw the cover off your body, your bare feet hit the soft carpet. Your hair is still a little wet from the shower you took but you couldn’t care less. You turn on the light on your nightstand before you rush over to your closet and pick out a sweater, not bothering to change into jeans or a skirt, you leave your plaid pajama pants on and throw the black sweater over your head.

Your heart is pounding in excitement when you think about how he kissed you before you left, how he didn’t want to leave, how he wanted more and more. You can’t wait to do it again. You can’t wait to pull him into a kiss, to hug him, to tell him what you should’ve told him a long time ago.

You take a look in the mirror, smoothing out your hair a little, you put perfume on your skin before you turn around and leave your room, slowly creeping down the stairs, not wanting to wake your mom. You leave the light off as you slip into your Vans, you grab your car keys and you open the door, about to step into night but the smile that was lingering on your face fades away so quickly when you find Steve on your doorsteps.

Steve who was just about to ring the doorbell.

Steve who is soaked from the rain, despite driving here. You can see his BMW in your driveway. How long has he been standing out in the rain?

It takes you a moment to realize the state he is in.

His face is not only soaked from the rain, it’s also soaked with tears. His eyes are red and glassy. His bottom lip is trembling. His body is shaking and you don’t know whether it’s from the tears or the cold rain. He is barely standing and as you take a step closer, you can smell the whiskey in his breath.

Your heart drops to your stomach when you realize that he drove here drunk.

“Steve?” You whisper as though in disbelief.

What is he doing here at 3am? Why is he crying?

Drops of water roll down his face, his hazel eyes are filled with pain as tears continue to fall from them.

He says your name with a pained voice, shakily and sadly.

“I-I needed to see you.”

Your heart breaks at the trembling in his voice.

You furrow your brows, looking him up and down in concern.

What happened to him?

“Dolly, I’m so– I’m so sorry,” he slurs as a sob falls from his lips. He loses his balance and stumbles forward, almost crashing to the ground, but you catch him, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him up as best as you can. He instantly latches onto you, pulling you against him and holding you tightly.

You blink in confusion, your heart starts pounding faster.

He is crying, he is still crying, holding you tighter than before as he buries his face in your neck. You let him. Despite the confusion that is rushing through you, you let him hold you like this for a moment, only letting go to close the front door and taking the keys from his hands, before you wrap your arms around him again. The rain is soaking through your clothes, his tears are falling onto you, he is holding you so tightly, like he’s afraid to let you go.

“It’s okay,” you whisper as you rub his back, not knowing what else to do.

Did he get into a fight with his dad again?

“I got you, Steve.”

Your words seem to make it even worse though, his body starts shaking even more as soft sobs fall from his lips. He grabs the material of your sweater so tightly, mumbling incoherent words into your neck.

You feel so helpless, not knowing what to do or what to say, so you just hold him.

This happened before, him showing up at your house in the middle of the night, drunk out of his mind with tears streaming down his face, he collapsed into your arms the moment you opened the door, rambling and slurring out words. You later on found out that he had gotten into a fight with his dad about his grades and his future.

But that wasn’t all, you just don’t know the rest of the story, Steve never told you about the things his dad had said to him – how you would leave if he didn’t get his shit together, how you would go off to college by yourself and learn how to live without him, how he would stay back in Hawkins while you would live your life somewhere else without him.

He is sobbing quietly, keeping his face buried in your neck, melting further into your arms.

“Steve,” you whisper as you rub your hand up and down his spine. You longingly look at the keys you’re still holding, a soft sigh falling from your lips. You won’t see him tonight. “Come on.”

“N-No,” he mumbles, thinking you want him to leave.

“Let’s go upstairs, Steve.”

You let go of him and grab his arms softly, trying to move back.

He sniffles as he loosens his grip on you, leaning back, he looks at you through his glassy eyes. He takes in the sight of your face, taking a moment to look at you.

You don’t know what’s going on in his troubled mind but his eyes tell you that he is suffering, and looking at you, makes him cry even harder. Though this time, he presses his lips together, trying not to sob.

Your own eyes fill with sadness the longer you look at him. You move your palm down his arm, taking his hand, you hold it tightly as you lead him towards the stairs. You drop both yours and his keys on the counter, taking another sad look at them before you turn to Steve, making sure that he doesn’t stumble again. He is taking slow but shaky steps, holding your hand tighter than before.

You look up, hoping that you didn’t wake your mom.

You step into your room and you close the door after he walks in, noticing that you forgot to turn off the light earlier.

His sniffles quiet down and you think the worst is over, that he calmed down after letting his tears fall, the tears that he probably kept in for way too long. Steve rarely ever cries or breaks down, he hates it, he hates being vulnerable. So, he keeps it in and he lets all his emotions pile up until there’s no space left.

A look around your room, a glance at a picture of you and him, and the closed window is enough to make him cry again. He lets go of you and hides his face behind his hands.

You feel so lost and don’t know what to do. Not even the worst fight with his dad resulted in this. Your own eyes well up with tears, your heart breaks at the sound of his cries. He once again, collapses into your arms the moment you take a step towards him, this time you lose your balance and your knees buckle causing you both to fall. You drop to your knees as he does too, still holding onto you, tighter than before if that is even possible. He wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in your chest this time.

“Steve,” you whisper shakily, on the verge of breaking down yourself when he clings to you like he never did before. You know it must be bad.

He feels your hand running down his back, cupping the back of his head, trying to calm him down as you do your best to comfort him. He breathes you in, something that makes his heart shatter even more.

“I-I ruined everything,” he sobs into your chest. “I ruined you, I broke your heart, I broke you,” he slurs. “I-I was.. I found your note, I never read it. I never said I love you, I just, I didn’t say it back, I didn’t say I love you, I didn’t– I put it away, I didn’t read it until now.”

Oh.

Now you understand.

You furrow your brows and your eyes blur with tears.

It doesn’t break your heart to find out that he never read that note, it didn’t matter anyway, he dumped you the next day. You got your answer. But your heart hurts for the girl you once were. The girl who loved him so unconditionally. The girl who cried herself to sleep after each fight. The girl who just wanted him to love her back.

You swallow the lump in your throat and tighten your hold on him.

“It’s okay, Steve.”

He shakes his head and he pulls back a little, looking at you with his sad eyes.

You nod before he can protest. You let go of him to cup his cheeks, trying to wipe the tears, but they keep falling and falling.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, trying to convince him but his hazel eyes look back at you so brokenly.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, reaching his hands up to grab your wrists. “I’m so sorry for everything I did to you, dolly.”

You shake your head, opening your mouth to speak but he cuts you off, not letting you.

“Please forgive me,” he cries.

“Steve..” You frown, trying to catch the tears that keep escaping his eyes. You forgave him already. You forgave him because you never wanted to lose him. The past cannot be erased, not even if you were pained or happy, so the only thing is to look forward, and you don’t want to lose him in the future. He needs to understand that but no matter what you say now, he won’t listen.

“Dolly, you don’t understand.” As he says these words to you, he looks at you with pleading eyes.

You shake your head, a pained expression taking over your face.

He opens his mouth to speak when a knock on your door interrupts him. You tear your eyes away from him, looking at your door, startled.

Your mom’s voice sounds through the hallway as she knocks on your door again, “is everything okay?”

“Y-Yeah, hold on!” You call out to her before you turn back to him. Moving your hands down to his arms. “Come on, let’s get you up.”

He doesn’t protest, instead he takes your hands and stands up with you.

You lead him towards your bed and push him down, placing your hands on his shoulders, you look into his eyes, “I should go talk to my mom, she’s probably worried about the noises.”

He sniffles, nodding at you.

Before you can move away, your door opens, the light in the hallways shining into your room. You’re met with your mom’s concerned eyes, she looks at you first before her eyes find Steve’s figure sitting on your bed. Her eyes widen and she gasps as she takes in the sight of him.

“Steve, honey, you don’t look good, are you okay?”

That only seems to make him sadder. No sounds escape him but the tears fall even harder than before and the urge to break down yourself feels stronger than ever.

Your mom looks just as helpless as you do, you may not talk to her about your feelings but she can read you like an open book, and right now, she can see how much you’re suffering too.

“We’re okay, mom. I-I got this, you should go back to sleep.”

She hesitates. Looking at you with worried eyes.

You nod at her, pleading with your tear filled eyes.

She sighs, face falling a little. You feel bad for shutting her out but she had enough to deal with herself in the past few years, she shouldn’t deal with your problems now too.

She nods at you, taking another look at Steve before her eyes meet yours again, “let me know if you need anything.”

“I will, mom.”

She closes the door, leaving you alone with him.

You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep and shaky breath, trying to fight the tears.

He is still holding your hand and crying his eyes out.

You take a look at him and suddenly feel like throwing up because of the overwhelming pressure in your chest. You can’t take this.

He looks up at you, tears rolling down his red cheeks, he looks so heartbroken and you can’t stand to see him like this. It hurts so bad. It fills you with so much sadness but also with anger because none of this would have happened if he wouldn’t have changed his mind about you.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, you’re gonna get sick if you stay in these any longer.”

You turn around, letting go of his hand, you walk to your closet and open the door, taking out the box that you’ve been meaning to give him back months ago. You take the lid off and rummage through it until you find what you’re looking for, one of his old shirts. The whole time, you’re biting back tears, not wanting to cry. It’s hard not to when you have to face him again.

Why does he have to begin this over and over again?

You’ve been here before. You’ve done this time and time. You forgave him already, you gave him a second chance, you were ready to move on.

Why does he have to do this now?

He is staring at you with a sullen look in his eyes, there is so much sadness, so much pain and heartbreak in the eyes you used to love so much.

“Here,” you whisper, placing the shirt on your bed, beside him. “Take your shirt off, Steve.”

He can barely see through his vision, his bottom lip is trembling, his hands are shaking, his whole body is shaking from both the coldness that is seeping through his shirt and the pain that he put himself in.

He reaches for the hem of his shirt, clumsily.

You sigh and step towards him, leaning down, you push his hands away gently, grabbing the wet material and pulling the shirt over his head.

“Do you want to take a warm shower?” You ask, putting your hands on his cold arms. “You’re freezing, Steve.”

He shakes his head.

“Okay,” you sigh and hand him the black shirt. “Here, put this one.”

“Okay,” he whispers, watching you take his wet shirt and walking into the bathroom. His eyes follow you like the ones of a lost puppy. He no longer feels the tears running down his face, he’s been crying all night, his chest has been hurting badly from the moment he started reading old notes. The way you’re taking care of him after everything that he has done to you, makes him feel even worse.

You walk back into the room a moment later.

He is wiping his tears away after putting the shirt on. You can tell that he tries to hold himself together, not wanting to break into sobs again, but you know that he is struggling to with his emotions in overdrive and the alcohol in his system.

“I’m gonna get you some water–”

“No, please don’t leave me.”

You had never heard him sound so heartbroken, so desperate and scared.

You had never seen him look like this, so fragile and broken.

“Please.”

He takes your hand in his.

“I don’t… I don’t deserve you–”

You sigh, shaking your head as you sit down beside him.

“Steve, stop! We’re friends, we’re over this okay? You need to stop doing this, we talked it all out. I forgave you–”

He shakes his head, catching you off guard when he moves towards you and cups your cheeks.

“I wanted everything with you. I wanted you to be the one so bad. I know we were too young to think so far ahead but.. I wanted it all with you, I wanted to marry you and have kids with you but then I fucked it all up, I ruined everything. I-I don’t know what happened to me, I don’t know what’s wrong with me and why I break everything.”

Your eyes widen in shock, tears you can no longer hold back fall from your eyes and roll down your cheeks. You open your mouth but no words come out. You are too stunned to speak.

You never knew how he truly felt about you and about your future together. You knew that he wanted to go to college with you but that was the only part about your shared future that was mentioned – aside from the promise he made to never stop loving you.

Despite the state of shock that you’re in, you cannot help but cry for the girl that wanted it all with him.

“I don’t deserve you, fuck. I don’t deserve you– and you don’t deserve me. You don’t deserve someone like me, you don’t deserve how I treated you, you don’t deserve how I made you feel, you don’t deserve the pain I made you go through, because you’re so good, and so perfect, and I destroyed that.. I destroyed you.” His voice is so shaky, his tears won’t stop falling, neither do yours. But he wipes them away softly.

Your bottom lip trembles as you look at him in pain.

“Steve..”

He searches for something in your eyes – anger, hatred, rage. But he can’t find any of it. After everything that he put you through, you still got love for him and it makes him hate himself even more.

He knew what he did to you, what he put you through. Yet, only tonight it really sank in, how much he truly hurt you. How much he hurt that one person that he would give everything for – his heart, his soul, everything.

“I’m so sorry for everything, baby.” His voice breaks and he closes his eyes as he lets his head hang low. Only a second passes, before you pull him into your arms again.

“It’s okay, Steve,” you whisper.

It’s not okay. How could it ever be okay?

He left a deep scar, one that you will carry for the rest of your life and there is nothing he can do to fix it.

He wraps his arms around your body and pulls you in, closer and closer until you’re flush against him, in search of your warmth, he buries his face in your neck. He breathes you in and holds you tightly, like it’s the last time. Enjoying the feeling of your hand running up and down his spine as your other hand cups the back of his head. His lips touch your skin, he is unaware of the marks on your neck. He is unaware of who’s hands, who’s lips have touched your body tonight.

“I’m still your dolly, Steve,” you whisper into his shoulder.

Yes, you are still his best friend.

Still his dolly.

But never his girl again.

You stare into nothing as you hold him, breathing slowly. Your lips are pressed against his shoulder, you tighten your arms around him even when his cries quiet down and his breathing slows down, you still hold him, not ready to let go just yet.

The room becomes silent, so silent that you suddenly miss the sound of his voice.

“Steve?” You whisper.

His head is laying on your shoulder, his breathing slow and steady. You know that he had fallen asleep but you still whisper his name again. When you get no response, you move back slowly, careful not to wake him. You push him down softly, adjusting the pillow beneath him.

Your eyes soften as you take in the sight of him. You scoot closer to him, bringing your hands up to his face, you wipe the fallen tears and caress his cheek. Running your fingers through his hair and pushing away the fallen strands.

You blink, feeling the hot tears burning in your eyes.

The joy in your heart faded the moment he crashed into your arms. Right now, it’s just hurting.

You know why he came here tonight.

Not for comfort. Not for a second chance. Not for forgiveness. No. He came to end things, once and for all.

With a heavy heart, you tear your eyes away from him and push yourself up. You lean down to take his Nike’s off, you lift his legs up on the bed and grab the covers, pulling them up to his chest. You notice the wristband, the one you gave him two nights ago, he is wearing it.

You can’t remember the last time he was here in your room, let alone in your bed. It’s odd, almost strange to see him here.

You look out your window, noticing that the rain has stopped falling. You hear the tires of a car screeching through the night. Jimmy Davidson must be back from college, you think. The jock is the only in town who drives like a maniac – well, besides Billy Hargrove and Eddie.

You take one last look at him before you turn around and leave your room, wanting to grab some water and advil for him. You close the door carefully and make your way downstairs.

You notice that the lights are on in the kitchen. The smell of hot chocolate lingers in the air. Your mom is still awake. You find her sitting at the table by the window, with a magazine in front of her. A blanket around her shoulder and glasses perched on her nose.

You feel bad for waking her up, knowing that she works the morning shift this week. But just her presence alone gives you the comfort that you so desperately need, right now.

She looks up when she feels your presence. She takes her reading glasses off and places them on the table, pushing the blanket off as she stands up, she wastes no second to make her way towards you, the same concerned look as before resting in her features.

“Is Steve okay?”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat and blinking the tears away.

“Yeah. He’s sleeping now.”

She knows that you’re not telling her everything, you never are.

Sighing, she raises her hand towards your face, cupping your cheek as she gives you a smile, a sad one.

“Are you okay?”

Tears that you have just blinked away, well up in your eyes again. This time you hesitate. This time you can’t tell her that you feel okay or even good. You can’t hold your feelings back, not tonight.

“You can talk to me. You never do and you always hold yourself back with me. I am your mother and I will listen to you, I’m here for you. So please, talk to me, sweetheart.”

You look into her kind eyes and you suddenly feel like breaking down. You have been holding back for so long, hiding your true feelings, not letting them shine through out of fear that this would happen.

But everything is crumbling now, all the last pieces that were holding you and Steve together had fallen apart the moment you had broken the barrier and kissed him.

You don’t know where to start, there is so much to tell.

So, you start with something you’ve been dying to get off your chest.

“I love Eddie, mom.”

It feels like a relief to finally say it out loud, the words that you kept away for so long are now out in the open and.. it feels right.

You watch for surprise to flash in her eyes but there is none. In fact, she doesn’t give you much of a reaction at all. A knowing look crosses her face, that’s all.

“Is that why Steve was crying?”

You shake your head.

“No. He doesn’t know,” you mumble, looking down. “I haven’t told him yet.”

“Then what happened to him?”

You can hear the worry in her voice. You wonder if it will still be there when you tell her what he did to you. You never told her why he left. You never told her how much he hurt you. You never wanted her to think badly of him, not even after he broke your heart so carelessly.

It feels like the world is weighing on your shoulders and the urge to throw it off feels so strong. You’ve been carrying it around for too long.

“He came to apologize, to ask for forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness?” She asks. “Did you two get into a fight?”

“No, mom.”

She tilts her head, giving you a questioning look.

“Can we sit down?” You nudge your chin towards the table. “It’s a lot to talk about.”

She nods, a smile tugging at her lips. She wraps her arm around your shoulder and she leads you to the table.

You sit down by the window and watch her move to the other side. She doesn’t take a seat though, instead she grabs the blanket and walks back to you, wrapping it around your shoulders and stepping away for a moment.

Your eyes follow her in curiosity.

She grabs your favorite mug from the cupboard and places it on the counter.

You prop your chin on your palm and watch how she makes you a hot chocolate, the way you always loved it, with mini marshmallows on top.

As you watch her move around in the kitchen, you realize how much you have missed this, how much you have missed your mom. This reminds you of older days, simpler days. Days where you had woken up from nightmares and sneaked into your parents room to wake your mom. She always knew how to comfort you. Instead of taking you back to bed and reading you a story, she always took you downstairs, made you hot chocolate and let you talk about whatever had troubled your young mind.

And now you’re so much older and you don’t talk anymore. But you need to, you need to talk about it all so badly. So, you do.

You tell her everything – from the sweetest note, to your overthinking, to all the fights she never knew about, to Nancy, to Tina’s Halloween party, to Eddie… You tell her absolutely everything.

Tears fall as you talk about it all with a heavy heart. Relieving all the painful moments of your life and feeling the guilt of watching her eyes flash with sadness when she finally finds out the truth.

How you cried yourself to sleep. How you stopped eating and pretended to be okay in front of everyone. How heartbroken you were after he left. How unloved you felt for so long. How you have lost yourself after losing him before Eddie stepped into your life. How much Steve changed because of her. How he came back to you. How much he cared about you after all. How much he loved you after all.

And as you finally talk, you can feel the weight getting lighter and lighter, falling off your shoulders but not completely. Not yet. But you let it all out, just like you tried with Robin but this feels different, your mom doesn’t try to lecture you, she doesn’t tell you what to do, what’s right and what’s wrong – she just listens because she knows that this is what you need.

To talk, to cry, to feel.

And when your tears stop falling and you calm down, she wraps her arms around you and pulls you into a tight hug.

“You are such a brave girl. I know you had your friends with you, and Eddie especially. But you didn’t have to be alone in this. I was here. I have always been here, my sweet girl. You were never alone, you were never unloved.”

You close your eyes, ignoring the trembling in your lips and the shakiness in your hands as you hug her tightly, laying your chin on her shoulder. She rubs your back and squeezes you.

In her arms you feel safe and comforted, you don’t need to hide, you don’t need to feel embarrassed or scared. You’re just safe and at home.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, mom,” you whisper when you realize how lost you’d truly be if you didn’t have her. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’ll always be here, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, falling silent again.

“You know.. I always knew by the way.”

“Huh?”

“That you loved Eddie.”

Shocked at her words, you pull away from the hug and stare at her with wide eyes.

“I know how to see your emotions through your eyes, my love. I am not your mother for nothing,” she laughs while wiping away your fallen tears, tucking your hair behind your ear.

You roll your eyes with a soft smile on your face.

“And I also knew about Eddie’s feelings. That boy would blush every time he came to pick you up and you would come down with a new dress or skirt. I don’t know how you didn’t see his ears getting all red.”

Your eyes grow bigger, softening after her words as you’re beaming at her.

“You think he loves me, mom?”

She giggles, staring at you as though you’ve gone crazy.

“Someone would have to be blind and deaf to not notice that.”

You blush at her words, though you can’t hide the excitement that crosses your face when you think about him, when you think about seeing him later. You look at each other, as though she can read your mind, you both start giggling.

She looks at you fondly, squeezing your hand.

“You know that I’m proud of you, right?” She smiles. “You’re so strong. You have always been a fighter.”

“No. Not always,” you shake your head. “I didn’t always fight for what I wanted.”

“But now you do, right?”

You nod.

“Yeah, now I do.”

Your mom looks towards the stairs. You know what’s on her mind. You saw the disappointment, the anger and the sadness in her eyes when you told her the truth about Steve.

You know that she isn’t angry at him – she would have been had you told her the truth from the start. But a year has passed and things have changed. Steve has changed. You have changed. And despite what you have gone through, you still love him.

And that is another reason for your tears. Steve has always been a part of your life and she knows that you are afraid to lose him again. You might lose your best friend.

“And do you still love Steve?”

“I do..” You whisper. “That’s why it’s all so.. complicated.”

“Is it?” She asks, giving you a small smile. “Or do you make it complicated?”

You tilt your head, raising your brows at her question.

“You can love them both and they will both be special to you, no matter what. But you can be in love with only one person.”

You let her words sink in, but your heart only hurts more.

You have been here so many times already. You have told yourself that you let him go, you have convinced yourself that you did but did you ever let him go? Did you ever allow yourself to move past it? No. Because letting go of him always filled you with so much fear.

“I don’t want to lose him.”

The pain in your eyes is very telling. The sadness gives away who you are talking about.

“But the love you once had for him is somewhere else now, right?”

You’re biting back tears. And after a few minutes of silence, you nod.

“I love Eddie, mom. I really really love Eddie.”

She smiles at your words, taking your hand, she looks into your eyes.

“You know what you have to do then.. right?”

You nod, getting sadder each passing second.

“Yes,” you whisper. “I just– I don’t want to hurt him anymore.”

“You will hurt him more if you don’t talk to him. You need to give him closure. It’s the right thing to do, and it’s the only way the two of you can be happy.”

“I know,” you whisper, shakily.

She gives you an encouraging smile, “you got this, sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay.”

“I hope so..”

She holds your hand a little tighter, giving it a squeeze.

“You should get some sleep. You can sleep in my bed if you don’t wanna go back there. I gotta start getting ready for work now.”

“Already?” You frown as you turn around to look at the clock. It’s 4:30 am already.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry for keeping you up. You really needed your sleep.”

She shakes her head at you, “no, it’s okay. I’m glad you finally talked to me.”

You smile at her, tilting your head to the side, “me too.”

“Take it easy, okay?”

You nod.

She gives your hand a pat before she gets up, ruffling your hair playfully as she moves past you, making you chuckle.

“Hey mom?”

She turns around before stepping out into the hallway, looking back at you.

“Thank you.”

Her gaze softens, brows knitting together.

“Of course, sweetie,” the soft sound of your mom’s voice sounds through the kitchen. “I’m gonna go check on him.”

“Okay,” you nod.

She gives you another smile before she turns around, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

With a sigh, you look down and reach for the now half empty mug, you pull your knees up to your chest, taking a sip of the hot chocolate as you look out the window.

It’s still dark out, the world is still sleeping, and you enjoy the last moments of this.

You’re not ready for the morning to come.

You’re still not ready.

Steve’s head is pounding, the pain is excruciating. He can’t open his eyes, not yet. The sun that is shining into the room is too bright. A groan falls from his lips and he clutches the pillow beneath his head, squeezing his eyes shut after trying to open them.

He hears the birds chirping outside, he must have left his window open last night. He smells the fresh air, it instantly calms the sickening feeling in his chest a little. He sinks into the pillows and breathes in.

The sweet and floral scent is so pleasant, it smells like you. He takes another deep breath, he smells your perfume, your shampoo, your vanilla body wash. His heart flutters and he can’t help but melt into the warmth of the bed and the scents that linger. He feels safe and comforted.

It takes him a moment to realize that his pillows shouldn’t smell like you or your perfume. His bed isn’t usually this comfortable either.

Steve opens his eyes slowly, groaning in pain when the light shines directly into his face. Hiding behind his hands, he sits up. He rubs his eyes and runs his hand through his messy hair. Turning his back to the window, he squints his eyes as he opens them again, trying to get used to the light.

His throat feels so dry that it hurts and his head is killing him. He can still taste the whiskey on his tongue, it makes him nauseous.

Once his eyes are fully adjusted to the light, he takes a look around the room and his heart skips in his chest, his red rimmed eyes widen when he realizes where he is.

His stomach drops when he finds Advil on your nightstand next to a glass of water.

“Oh fuck,” he groans as he buries his face back in his hands. Dread fills him when he starts to remember the previous night.

The note. The Whiskey that he stole from his dad’s office. The tears that streamed down his face when he carelessly drove to your house drunk. You. He remembers the way you held him, the way you cried too.

“Fuck,” he whispers, tugging at his hair.

He chugs down the glass of water and after a moment of hesitation, he gets up from your bed and looks down at himself, noticing the new– well, old shirt. He puts on his Nike’s and walks into your bathroom to splash some cold water on his face but when he turns on the light and he takes a look into the mirror, he can’t help but feel sick. His eyes are red and puffy from all the crying, his skin looks pale and his hair has never looked worse than it does right now.

He shakes his head at himself, hating his reflection more than anything, right now.

With a sigh, he looks down, gripping the counter tightly, knowing that he has to face you now.

He knows that there’s a small chance that you aren’t home, that you have left. But he knows that you wouldn’t do it while he is here, not even if you’re upset with him.

After washing his face with cold water and using your mouth wash to get rid of that awful taste of whiskey, he walks back into your room, trying not to let the sadness take hold of him again but it’s hard not to fall into the pit of darkness again when he stands inside the room of the girl he loves, the girl he has made so many memories with, in here and anywhere else in this stupid small town.

From good memories to bad ones.

From innocent ones like picking flowers for you at the age of 12 to buying you a bouquet of flowers for your 16th birthday.

From comforting hugs at school to cuddling in your bed at nights.

From first kisses on your bedroom floor to more passionate kisses in his car after every stop at the streetlight.

From making love in your bed to fighting in your room with tears streaming down your face.

He sees the box on the ground, the one that you took out of your closet, last night. You kept his things, just like he kept yours.

Did you struggle to get rid of them like he did?

Did you keep them in hopes that you would find your way back together someday?

His hands are starting to get clammy, his heart starts pounding again. He takes another look around your room before he opens the door and steps out into the hallway.

The faint sound of the music coming from the radio tells him that you are in the kitchen. He makes his way downstairs, ignoring the shakiness in his legs or his hands. The smell of coffee lingers in the air.

He presses his lips together as he takes a deep breath before he steps into the kitchen.

You’re leaning against the counter, your chin is propped on your hand, a book lying in front of you, you haven’t noticed him yet and Steve takes that as a chance to look at you.

Your hand is wrapped around a mug that Eddie must have given you, you told him that he loves Garfield. He laughed about it when you did.

It’s only 8 am. He knows you’re not working today, yet you’re already so put together. Make up on your already beautiful skin, hair done in waves, you’re wearing an outfit you certainly didn’t wear yesterday. God, you look so beautiful that it hurts.

His heart longs for you, his hands itch to touch you – something that he could’ve done.

In a different world, he would pull you into his arms and shower you with kisses, he would hold you, not wanting to let you go. He would make breakfast for you and then you would spend the day together.

But you’re in this world.

In a world where he can’t kiss you or hold you or spend the day with you.

“Hey..”

You raise your head and your glassy eyes meet his.

Another wave of guilt rushes through him. You cried. You cried because of him again.

“Hi,” you whisper as you close your book and straighten your back, you look him up and down.

Steve hates how concerned you look, how worried you are over him.

You take a step forward, giving him a small smile.

“Are you feeling okay?”

He shrugs, trying to smile back at you.

“I’ll make you a coffee, you should sit,” you nudge your head into the direction of the kitchen table.

“Okay.”

He walks to the table and takes the seat that was once his. It’s been a long time since he sat here and watched you.

You make the coffee first, pouring some into a Hawkins High mug. You add two sugars, still knowing how he likes his coffee.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

You place the mug in front of him, eying him with softness in your eyes, something that makes all of this even harder.

He blinks, shrugging at your words.

“Okay,” you sigh and pull back your hair, without thinking. “Bagels or Toast? I’ll make you some eggs if you want–”

Your voice becomes faint, like he’s under water, sinking further and further into the deep end. The marks on your neck are now visible to him, the hickeys that he left. Steve is not shocked or even surprised. He already knew when he came to you, last night. It was obvious, even through his drunken haze, he could see it in your eyes, the happiness that shined in them before you took in the sight of him.

It still hurts.

And it hurts even more to think about you with him, especially in that way.

“Toast is just fine,” he mumbles.

“Okay, Steve,” you whisper, this was always his go-to breakfast after a night out. Black coffee and toast. It’s plain but it’s the only thing he gets down.

He keeps watching you. Eyes following your every moment.

There is so much sadness inside of him but there is also more, there is acceptance. He knows why he came here last night.

Bits and pieces start to return to him. He remembers what he confessed to you, how you held him, how you took care of him, how you comforted him.

He truly never deserved you.

You place a plate in front of him, “you sure you want nothing else?” You point to the buttered toast. You added a few berries on the side.

He gives you a smile, “you know I’ll probably get sick if I eat anything else,” he says, chuckling for the first time today.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “You always had a weak stomach.”

“Only when I drink whiskey.”

You nod, sitting down opposite of him. You take a sip of your coffee and lean back. You look down and reach for the magazine that your mom was reading earlier, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by staring.

Steve looks up at you and he just knows it’s the last time that he will have your coffee and your toast.

It’s the last time he will get to sit here with you.

So, for a moment, he pretends that everything is alright, that this is normal, that this is something you both do every day and for the rest of your lives, that he didn’t mess up, that everything is fine.

He takes a few sips of the coffee and eats the toast, and when he’s done, he takes a deep breath and pushes the plate aside, not looking up from the coffee just yet.

“I’m sorry.”

You close the magazine, sighing as you finally look up.

“You said that already… many times, Steve.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. He only looks up at you, his eyes scan your face, his lips twitch.

“You look happy, dolly.”

What?

You shake your head a little, furrowing your brows as you stare at him in confusion.

“You have color in your skin again, you no longer.. are skin and bones,” he says, quietly. Looking down as his eyes fill with guilt, knowing that you stopped eating because of how heartbroken you were. “Your hair is longer, your nails are painted black– a color I didn’t like you putting on because I was a fucking asshole..”

“Steve–”

He shakes his head at you, not wanting you to interrupt him.

“You wear stuff you always told me you wanted to buy, you started wearing makeup, the heavy kind you once tried and loved but thought it was too much,” he says with a smile on his face, a knowing one.

You see the way his eyes fall to your neck and your heart jumps when you realize what he is looking at. Surprisingly, there is no shock in his eyes, jealousy or even anger, just sadness. He knows everything and it’s not the marks on your skin he needed to look at.

“You are living again.. and god, I want to hate him for it but.. how can I when he saved you from the pain I put you through?”

Your eyes burn with tears.

“I’m done standing in your way–”

“Steve,” you whisper, shaking your head. “Y-You’re not standing in the way.”

“Yes, I am.” His voice is thick with tears and by the way he is blinking, you can tell that he is trying not to cry.

He looks down at the necklace you are wearing, the locket he had put around your neck, months ago.

He knows that there is no picture of him inside and as much as it hurts, it’s okay.

He didn’t come here to fight for you. He didn’t come here for a second chance or to get you back. He came here to let you go. So you could find happiness, the way you always deserved it.

“And I don’t want to anymore. I want you to be happy.”

Your bottom lip starts trembling again.

“And I know that you will be with him,” he says as he tears his away from the marks on your neck and he looks into your glassy eyes. “He would never do what I did. He would never put you through all of this.”

You sniffle, looking into your best friend’s eyes. There is so much pain and sadness lingering in them and you hate it, you hate it so much.

“I never let you go, dolly,” he finally admits with a heavy sigh. “Not at Tina’s Halloween party, not when I came to see you the next day, not after we went to Jimmy’s party together. I never let you go.”

Your brows knit together, eyes that stare back at him with pain, fill with more tears. You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing and you look into the brown eyes you always loved so much.

You never let him go either, that’s why it hurts so much.

Knowing that this is the last time crushes your heart in a new way. You know that this could not only be the end of the relationship you always held onto. This could be the end of everything.

This was always your worst fear. Losing him.

You have lost him before but you always knew that he would come back.

And he always knew it too.

But this, this is different.

And this hurts even more than it did the first time.

You still love him, there is no doubt about that. Steve can see it in your eyes, it’s in the way you look at him, it’s in the way your lips tremble and your hands shake as fear crosses your face. You’re scared to lose him.

How could he ever think anything else? How could he ever doubt your love for him when it’s so clearly written on your face? Even now.

Steve can’t help but wonder; would it have worked out between you if there wasn’t someone else?

If Nancy never stepped into his life.

If Eddie never stepped into your life.

Would you have stayed together?

Would you have broken up either way?

Would you have found your way back together in the future?

Would he have been able to make it up to you?

Would you get your happy ending then?

“I dropped some heavy stuff on you last night,” he mumbles, cheeks flushing red when he remembers all the things he had said to you.

“Oh, you mean marriage and kids?” You ask as a smile tugs on your lips when you see him blushing.

He scratches the back of his neck, scrunching his face up, “yeah..”

You laugh a little, leaning your elbow on the table, you cup your cheek, “well, I never thought that far ahead when we were still together. I mean, I never knew what I wanted for my future but I knew that I wanted you in it,” you say, watching the way he nods at you. “And maybe a cat or a dog.”

He chuckles.

“Or maybe a few cats and a dog.”

A fond smile reaches his face as he stares at you, shaking his head at the thought of all the pets you’d bring home while he’d– his smile begins to fade, it will never happen.

“Well, I’m sure that Eddie will love that.”

Your heart flutters at the thought of a future with him. Yeah, Eddie will love that.

“You’ll be happy with him. He will make you happy,” he says confidently because he knows that he will. “And if not, well, then I’ll take you back to that treehouse and I’ll marry you again.”

A laugh falls from your lips as a tear finally rolls down your cheek.

“The treehouse we got married in when we were ten?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. “That one. You know I still got that paper ring,” he says with a serious face.

“I do too, I put it in a box,” you giggle.

His eyes light up and he smiles at you, but he watches the tear roll down your cheek and then another. He stands up and he walks over to you, his heart skips a beat when you look up at him with your beautiful eyes. He cups your cheeks, wiping away the tears.

“I don’t want you to cry over me anymore,” he whispers, holding your face for the last time.

“Steve,” you whisper, shakily.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

You knew that this was coming. You knew that this had to happen. If he didn’t come to you last night, then you’d be the one coming to him to talk and put an end to this, once and for all.

“I love you with all my heart and I ache for you, all the goddamn time but I don’t deserve you. You should have never forgiven me. You should have never treated me like a friend. You should have never given me the chance to be near you again… not after what I did.”

You grab his wrists, shaking your head at his words. Scared that he will leave you for good. Scared that he will leave your friendship behind and step out of your life forever.

Steve hates to see the way your lips tremble, the way your eyes are nothing but tears, sadness and heartbreak, yet again.

He can’t stand to see it any longer.

“I let you go,” he whispers as he wipes your tears again. “Like you asked me to months ago.”

His heart is screaming at him not to, everything inside of him longs for him to stay, to fight for you, to drop to his knees and ask to try again.

But this is the right thing to do.

There is someone who can give you more than he can.

Someone who didn’t hurt you. Someone who wouldn’t hurt you. Someone who would rather get hurt by you than do something to break your heart.

“I choose you, sweetheart. This time, I choose you and your happiness.”

A sad smile lingers on his face, he brushes your hair back and he looks down at the locket, one last time.

He knows why you aren’t speaking, you’d break down if you would.

He leans down, tilting your head up a little, he presses his lips against your forehead, kissing you one last time.

His throat feels tight and his chest is hurting, he knows that he is on the verge of another breakdown, he is so very close to it.

This is the hardest thing he will ever have to do.

“Goodbye, Dolly.”

Your sniffles break his heart. You only hold his wrists tighter in response, holding onto them, your touch lingers on the wristband, one that he will never stop wearing. You let go after a few seconds.

He feels your eyes on him, your big sad eyes. He can’t bear to take another look at you, knowing that he won’t be able to leave if he does, so he steps away from you, despite his heart telling him not to.

He turns around and he walks away from you for the last time. He grabs his keys that you left on the counter, last night.

With a heavy heart, he walks out of your house, biting back tears as he makes his way to his car.

It’s over now.

Something he held onto since he left you, is over.

And now he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He unlocks his car when the front door bursts open, startling him. He turns around with tears in his eyes that threaten to spill. Before he can even react, you suddenly crash into his arms, and wrap your arms around him, you hold onto him like you’re afraid that he might disappear if you let go. You hug him so tightly.

His eyes soften and his chest fills with warmth.

He doesn’t hesitate to hug you back, wrapping his arms around your smaller frame, he holds you tight and buries his face in your neck.

No matter what happened in the past. No matter what he did to you. No matter how much pain you have gone through, you still don’t want to live in a world where he isn’t in your life.

After all, he will always be the boy who picked flowers for you, who surprised you with your favorite snacks, who comforted you whenever your parents fought, who slept in your bed when you were afraid of storms, who taught you how to slow dance, who wrote you notes when he was younger, who promised you to be your prince when your first crush rejected you.

You hold onto him, pressing your cheek against his chest.

You stay like that for a moment, for a long moment – one that could never be long enough.

He breathes you in and closes his eyes, ignoring the fluttering in his chest.

He knows that this should make him feel better, to know that you love him enough to forgive him, to want him to stay but if anything, it makes him feel worse because he is still losing you.

He knows he has to walk away, for now.

“I love you, Stevie.”

He smiles sadly.

He knows it’s not the same as it was. It’s not the I love you’s from all your notes. He knows it’s not the same love he feels for you, not anymore.

But the love you always had for him. The love you had since you were kids.

And for him that’s more than he could ever ask for.

“I love you too, Dolly.”

You sniffle, he can feel you shaking against him. You’re trying not to cry.

“Please don’t become a stranger again, Steve.”

His breath hitches in his throat, he presses his lips together, willing the tears to stop from falling.

“Me?” He asks, pulling back to look down at you. He musters up a smile. “I might need some time but I will latch onto you as soon as I get over my whiny ass.” He jokes, despite the pain in his heart.

You roll your eyes but laugh at his words.

You take a deep breath and sigh.

This is it.

This is what was supposed to happen.

It hurts but you also feel relieved to finally put an end to something that kept holding you back for so long.

You know you won’t truly lose him.

He will always be your Steve.

And you will always be his Dolly.

But it won’t ever be the same.

You will be his friend and he will be yours and that’s all you’ll ever be.

You won’t be sad forever and neither will he.

He will find love after you.

He will find it like you did.

It’s what he deserves.

It’s what you both deserve.

“We kinda got friendship bracelets now,” he smiles through his tears, pointing to the wristband as he holds his hand up. You reach out to touch it, tracing the words.

‘love you to the moon and to saturn’

“Well, I got one, you have a necklace.”

You smile, placing your hand on the locket, “yeah.”

You turn it around, looking at the half moon that he got customized just for you.

You tear your eyes away from him and look around, furrowing your brows when you realize something.

“You know what, we should stop doing this.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, tilting his head.

“Saying goodbye in my driveway.”

He chuckles, though it’s a sad one.

“This is the last one,” he whispers. “Of this kind, at least. Our future goodbyes won’t be so…”

“Sad?”

“Yeah.” He takes your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

He takes a step forward, he leans down and kisses your cheek, not paying attention to the feeling in his heart or the way his lips tingle when they touch your skin for the last time. He gives your hand a squeeze before he pulls away again.

“I’ll see you around.”

He can tell that you’re trying not to cry, that you are forcing a smile onto your face.

“Yeah, I’ll see you around, Steve.”

You can tell that he wants to say more. He looks at you. His eyes trace every inch of your face, like he’s trying to memorize you. And then, he nods to himself, blinking and giving you one last smile before he turns away from you.

You watch him leave.

For the last time, you watch him walk away from you.

You stand there and wait until he is gone, until you no longer see his car in the distance.

And just like that, he is gone, again.

And your tears are falling again.

A/N: I know that no one cares about my feelings cause I did this. But I want you to know that I freaking suffered writing this chapter. It felt heartbreaking and sad and wrong. I really wanted Steve to be the one. And my choice has nothing to do with the fact that I'm an Eddie girl, I love Steve, as well. (I know some of you don't believe this but I've loved him since 2016 so shut up, please and thanks). I didn't know how to make him come back from all what he did -- the emotional cheating, the pain he put her through, the heartbreak, the betrayal. It was too much and this ending genuinely has nothing to do with Eddie being in this story.

But also, please remember. This is not the ending of the story. So before you send any hate to me, remember that there will be another chapter and an epilogue. Anything can happen in an epilogue, just saying.

Also, I'll be working on a new Steve series. Strictly Steve x reader, I promise

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @take-everything-you-can @trashmouth-richie @succubusmunson @xxhellfirebunnyxx @somethingvicked @sherrylyn628 @nemesis729 @munson-mjstan

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things angst

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n3ptoonz · 4 months

Note

BEGGING you to make more sub mk men content 😭 they're always dom in all the other hc's and it's refreshing to see something that's my cup of tea lol

oh? like this? throws this post behind me like a bouquet toss earthrealm guys here

mk1 hcs: how the outworld guys react to you riding them

y'all sure do love headcanons LMFAOO

i always try my best for most of the outworld cast cause i'm truly an earthrealm girly, but i got yall. yall really challenge me 😵‍💫

suggestive/mature content below the cut

Shang Tsung

This sly mf. He thought when you suggested riding, he'd be the one watching you writhe, but it's quite the opposite. Little did you know it was all an act. A fib; fairytale. He wants power, of course, but in the bedroom it's entirely different

Nothing will get him to submit fast than treating him like a common harlot. He's in desperate need of hair pulling, degradation, maybe even act like you're trying to kill him. He's into that shit! He's an aggressive man, so he should be treated as such

I'm talking fully dog this man out while you ride him. It'll drive him mad and make him crave it. Hell, slap him around and call him names and his gasps, groans, and deep whimpers will clear the air in no time! If you add small weapons to the mix or like a role play thing it's ON

He's literally the meme "don't bully me i'll cum" so do with that what you will!

Rain

Rain sexy ass...OOF. That smug "i am a demigod" attitude is punted out the window when you ride him. One single stroke of his hair and a caress of the jaw and just like that he's a slut!

Give him praises. He wouldn't handle degradation too well. On the outside he appears to have his shit together and doesn't have a care in the world about anybody else but his studies (and you), but he likes to be taken care of

If you want to be rougher or if he asks you to, really just pull his hair/give him love bites. idk it might just be me but i just wanna bite him sooo we're gonna say he likes bites! He's also super handsy but mostly when he's close

He's not very vocal but when he is i can see him as the kinda man that like...purrs, if that makes sense? If it don't i say he's a grunter and from groan city: population him

Reiko

Reiko has a hard time being submissive, but you just make it a little easier for him. You kinda have to coax him into it before every time you get intimate because he's made it clear he can do both and wants to try submitting more to the person he loves

It was your suggestion after a long time away for a mission. Poor dude was stressed da hell out! He's like Rain, a sucker for praise. Now that i'm really picturing it he'd prob be down to smother his face into your chest cause like, that's hot to him

When he's feeling particularly spicy definitely tie him down so he can't pull free no matter how much brute strength he uses. Hold his face and never break eye contact, he's all yours! If you call him any name that has the word "strong" in it he's like puddy in your hands

Prime grunt man here. He ain't whimpering unless you deny him of something, even then it goes from a coarse tone to soft

General Shao

Siiggghhhh 🙄 Shao likes the riding position the most. That's all thanks for coming to my Ted talk

LOL JUST KIDDING😹 He would appear like he's incapable of submission but like, this is YOU we're talking about. And he'd do anything for you. Literally.

A little birdy told me he loves when you grab his horns. Grab his horns. Grab them and make him look at you. This unbreakable wall of man yearns to be conquered by someone like you. Someone who dared to challenge him and never back down? By the Gods he has a breeding knk whether you can have kids or not. oh yeah, he'd beg. plead. he's gasping for air like pls just don't stop riding him LMAO he needs his mind off taking the throne for a few hours

whimpering little bitch which eventually turn into growls and grunts. takes a bow

Reptile

Syzoth is so subby I literally cannot picture him dominating a soul. Ashrah got that man on hold fr but anyway this about you

Typa dude to tear up when you ride him. You just look so damn good, and you make him feel so damn good. Dizzy eyes that he can barely keep open; I feel like he'd go brain numb from how fast he feels pleasure

I'm talking like because he's not originally human he's more sensitive. Now hear me out guys...two dicks....AHEM. DONT SHOOT THE MESSENGER!! Both his dicks are very sensitive OHHHHHHHHH Reduce him to a sobbing, stuttering, gasping, mess. He needs it, wants it, loves it. It's up to you if you'd ride him in his og form ya nasty. He'd also have a tendency to leave bite marks on you like your chest, neck, and shoulders

Mister whimper over here there's nothing else he does but whimper and cry jesus almighty somebody give this man a HUG (hug him while you fuck him dumb/busts)

Havik

Banging my head against the wall rn lemme tap in...ok we here let's go.

Another kombatant who peruses power, but also very much attracted to it. He definitely likes to be dominated. He'd be into some real kinky shit too i know it. Literally all the above he don't wanna think about SHIT

He would thoroughly enjoy being completely helpless at your disposal as you ride him. He likes degradation more than praises but if you do give him the kind of praise that inflates his already massive ego. shoot down his arrogance while also maintaining it he fucking lives for it. he likes being choked or slapped too keep that in mind

This bitch growls and that's it. bro ain't got the lips to really make different sounds LMAO?? get yo fuckin dog bitch!!!

Baraka

You might be insane but we love that haha...! Monster fucker certificate checked at the door i understand i do

Absolutely no degradation here DO NOT!! Mf might start crying or give a monologue either way, steer clear. Be nice to him!!

He likes to be held, and he likes holding his partner. If this was confident Baraka from the previous timeline I'd say he likes fast and crazy over slow and romantic but that's not the case. Be immersed and in the moment with him, he clings onto the human interactions he got stripped from him 😞

Growls but that's mostly bc he deadass don't have lips either LMFAO😭

a/n: tearing my skin off rn I DID IT GUYS I DID IT TELL ME IM GREAT😎author likes praise too.

#n3ptoonz #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat #smut #mk smut #shang tsung #rain mk #rain mk1 #mk havik #reptile mk #syzoth x reader #general shao #shao khan #mk reiko #baraka x reader #shang tsung x reader #rain x reader

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aphrogeneias · 2 months

Note

Rockstar Eddie sending assistant reader secret admirer flowers maybe? Maybe it’s when they’re not touring, back in town for a bit.

Idk if that’s the vibe or not but I think it goes with the secret romance vibes

-💛

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x assistant!reader

warnings: yearning. a ton of yearning. tooth-rotting fluff.

You'd never been one to be sad on Valentine's Day.

If you weren't already in a relationship, you were working too much to even think about it. Life on the road didn't give you the luxury of going all out on holidays, for the most part.

It made you happy, though. To see everyone in the crew calling their girlfriends and wives, planning dates for when they see each other next, sending them a letter in the mail, signed with all their love.

To see Rick, the perpetual bachelor, go on dates with a different woman every year, swearing he's ready to settle down this time. He'd ask you about yourself, “A nice girl like you doesn't have a date on Valentine's? I don't believe you, honey.”

You would tell him the same thing every time. “Worry about yourself, Rick. You're not getting any younger.”

If anyone else asked, you'd just say you were too busy. Too busy taking care of other people, seeing the country, looking for yourself in the process — and you always meant it.

This year, however, it had you slumping around the house, wrapped in a warm blanket and roaming your own home like a ghost. You were there physically, but your heart was somewhere in a small town in the Midwest, visiting his family before the next leg of the tour.

Selfishly, you wanted him here. You almost asked him to come with you, but you knew how much he missed home, with the way he'd been counting the days to see his uncle, his friends, and who were you to take that from him?

The longing took hold of your heart anyway, squeezing it tight in your chest, as you curled into yourself on your couch, not really paying attention to the romantic comedy playing on your TV set. It rained outside, the pitter-patter against your windows almost lulling you into sleep.

You pictured him there, wrapped around you on the couch. His warmth enveloping you, arms tight around you. In your kitchen, making coffee, helping you bake, washing the dishes. In your bed, messing up your sheets. His laughter booming across the walls, his whispers in your ear.

A golden halo around his wild brown curls. Your Sun, your Star.

A knock on your front door brought you back to reality.

Groaning, you stood, taking the blanket with you as a cape, dragging behind you as you crossed the living room. When you opened the door, there was a soaked delivery boy waiting for you, but he wasn't the first thing you saw.

In front of him, there was a bouquet of roses. A dozen, half of them red, half of them black, wrapped in brown paper, and tied with a pristine white bow. Dazed, you almost didn't hear the boy call your name, and last name, before asking to sign the paper on his clipboard.

“Who… Do you know who sent them?” You asked, giving him back his ballpoint pen.

“They're not signed. Have a good day, miss!”

As he left, and your door seemed to close itself behind you, the first thing you did was reach for your phone.

With your flowers still in hand, clutched to your chest, and the receiver on the other, you dialed the phone you had memorized, but rarely used. The one that was slipped into your back pocket by a heavily ringed hand, one you were told to call if you felt lonely.

Now was as good a time as any.

The gruff voice that answers after a few rings was not his. “Hello?”

“Wayne? Uh, this is…”

“Oh, I know exactly who this is. I was expecting you'd call.”

“Were you?”

The older man chuckled on the other side of the line. “The boy’s been talking about you all day, but he didn't want to call. Said you'd be too busy to sorry about his sorry ass. Figured it wasn't true, but you know how stubborn he is.”

“That he is.” You agreed, and there's an exchange you can't quite figure out at the other end. The phone rattled a bit, and a voice saying “your girl’s on the phone” came through, followed by more rattling.

“I'll let you go, kid. Happy Valentine's Day, there's someone who's desperate to talk to you.”

Without being able to help yourself, giddiness rising through your chest like butterflies, you giggled. “Happy Valentine's, Wayne.”

The next person to talk to you sounded a bit breathless. “Hey, sweetheart.”

The hand that was holding your heart tight let it go, and let it soar through your kitchen, as if it grew cartoon-esque wings. “Hey, Eddie. Do you, perhaps, know if I happen to have a secret admirer, I got these beautiful flowers but sadly, no note.”

“Oh, I don't know. You must steal hearts wherever you go, could be anyone.”

You could hear the smirk on his lips, practically feel his stare across the line. “Aw, that's a shame. I was thinking of returning the favor, but maybe he doesn't like me enough to make himself known.”

“Maybe he likes you enough to keep it a secret, who knows who else might be listening.”

With a sigh, your understanding came through without any more words needing to be said. It laid thick in the air. “I miss you."

“I miss you too. Did you like them?”

“I love them.” You answered immediately, simply. Maybe it was time to be sincere. “I'd love having you here more, though.”

“Baby, you're getting sick of me next time I see you, just you wait. The flowers are more of an early apology.”

“A threat, more like it.”

There it was, the laugh you loved more than anything. “Yeah. A threat, whatever you want to call it.”

“Promise me, then?”

Biting your lips in anticipation, you waited for his reply. Eddie’s voice came heavy with meaning, “I promise.”

Your heart and the cartoon wings that carry it through your ceiling spinned, and spinned, and spinned.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #nothing else matters

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lovelyjj · 5 months

Note

maybe a mix of “i’m just afraid” and “tell me the truth”? 🫶

avoidance

jj maybank x reader

wc: 1.4k

a/n: I lowkey hate this.

You and JJ were the best of friends. You did everything together. He was your person you told everything to. He was your partner in crime. There were no secrets between the two of you.

You and JJ were on the couch that was on John B’s porch, enjoying the rain. The rain was blanketing the outer banks in water, soaking the grass and trees.

“I love the rain,” you stated.

“Really why?” JJ asked.

“I don’t know it makes me feel less alone, like the sky is crying with me.”

“That’s a really good reason,” JJ replied.

“Thanks,” you smiled.

“You want to dance?” JJ asked with a goofy grin on his face.

“In the rain?” You questioned surprised.

“In the rain,” JJ confirmed.

“Ok.”

JJ got up and reached his hand out for you to take, which you gladly accepted. The two of you went out on the grass and JJ held onto one hand. Then he put one hand on your waist and you put the hand not holding his, on his shoulder.

You guys danced and he spun you around and you got soaking wet. You were having a lot of fun though. You were having a blast and so was JJ.

When you were finished JJ ushered you inside as you giggled.

You both changed into dry clothes and afterwards JJ had an idea.

“Let’s make some hot chocolate,” JJ announced.

“Yes please,” you answered.

JJ whipped up two mugs of cocoa and you both sipped yours quietly.

“Tastes good,” you whispered.

“Wanna watch a movie?” you asked JJ.

“Sure,” JJ replied.

You both settled into John B’s living room and put on spider-man. You ended up falling asleep on the pullout couch.

——————

A couple days later you were all going out on the boat. The day was bright and sunny perfect for going out on the water.

JJ was looking at you in your bikini top. He knew he shouldn’t be looking at his best friend like that but he couldn’t help it. You looked hot and JJ could hardly look away from your chest.

You were oblivious to JJ’s ogling. You were happy to be on the boat with your friends.

“I can’t believe the weather is so nice,” you spoke.

“Yeah it’s perfect,” Pope responded.

“I thought it would be windy out here on the water,” JJ said removing his attention from your breasts.

“Hope we can catch some fish,” John B announced.

“Should be able to,” JJ commented.

While the boys were fishing, you Kiara and Sarah were on your phones. You were looking through your photos and you noticed how many you had of you and JJ.

There was one of you two at the beach with the waves in the background and a pretty sunset.

“Can I post this J?” you asked.

“Let me see it.”

You handed your phone to JJ and he took it. He scanned the image and smiled a genuine smile.

“Yeah that’s a good one. Go ahead fire away.”

You gave him a smile and decided to post the picture.

After a while you got a few comments. One was from Sarah that said, “Goals.”

You ignored it because you didn’t want to draw attention to it. The last thing you needed was people assuming your in a relationship with JJ cause your not. Your just friends and that’s all you ever will be.

—————

You were spending more and more time with JJ. Sometimes with the other pogues and sometimes just the two of you.

You were starting to catch feelings for him. You didn’t know how or why but being around him brought out the best in you. You started to fall in love with your best friend. You were scared you’ve never felt this way before. And what if he doesn’t love you back.

You decided to go to Kiara and ask for her help. She was working at the wreck, so you made your way over there.

“Hey Kie, I need your help,” you hesitated.

“Yeah sure y/n whatever you need,” Kiara replied.

“Here let’s sit down,” Kiara said as she directed you to a small table by the window.

You sat across from her and she gave you a kind smile with kind eyes.

“What’s up,” Kiara started.

“Well um I’ve sorta had these feelings for a certain someone and I’m not sure what to do about it. I just know I don’t want to tell them,” you began.

“Why don’t you want to tell them,” Kiara asked.

“I’m just afraid,” you bit your lip.

“What do you have to be afraid of?”

“Well first of all he could not feel the same way. He could reject me. He could laugh in my face. The list goes on,” you threw your hands up in the air.

“JJ wouldn’t do that,” Kiara raised a brow.

“How do you know it’s JJ?” You asked.

“Oh come on, who else would it be.”

“You’ve got a point.” you laughed.

“Speak of the devil,” Kiara whispered as you turned to the sound of the door opening.

JJ sauntered in to the wreck, Pope, John B and Sarah following suit.

“The gangs all here,” Kiara exclaimed.

“I need to go,” you whispered to Kiara.

“What why?”

“I just need to, ok!”

You slipped out the back door leaving the rest of the crew utterly confused.

—————

You have been avoiding JJ. It’s not that you wanted to, you hated the distance between you and not seeing him but you didn’t know how to act around him anymore.

You were getting worried because you thought JJ was on to you. Now JJ was getting worried because he hasn’t seen you in a while. He figured that you were mad at him. He hated it.

When the pogues would hang out all together you would not be there. You would miss the activities they had planned.

It was getting harder and harder hiding your feelings from JJ. You would always blush or your heart would beat really fast. So your only option you decided was to stop hanging out with him.

JJ was confused because of your absence. He was going to get to the bottom of this. He was determined.

He assumed you would be at your house. So that’s where he showed up. He knocked on your door a few times and after a few minutes you came to the door. You were shocked to see JJ standing there.

You wanted to run back to your room and hide. You were embarrassed by your actions. Just all of a sudden ghosting him. He didn’t deserve that.

“Hey um so I miss you. A lot. And I think we need to talk,” JJ scratched the back of his neck.

“Sure.”

You stepped outside and closed the door behind you.

“I need to know why your avoiding me,” JJ insisted.

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“y/n.”

“Ok ok I’ve been avoiding you because I didn’t want to see you.” You nervously crossed your arms and looked down.

JJ wasn’t buying it. “No. Tell me the truth.”

As you looked into JJ’s pleading blue eyes you felt your stomach flip. You couldn’t lie to him even if you tried.

“Fine. You want the truth? The truth is I’m in love with you. And I don’t know how to act around you anymore. I assumed you didn’t feel the same way so to save myself the rejection, I avoided you.”

“You thought I wouldn’t feel the same way?” JJ questioned.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” JJ confessed.

“Really?”

JJ nodded his head.

“I can’t believe you did all that.” JJ said surprised.

You took a step closer to JJ and he took your face in his hands.

“Come here,” JJ whined.

You didn’t need to be asked twice. You leaned in and JJ placed lips on yours. Instantly you felt electrifying sparks shoot trough you. Your stomach erupted with butterflies. The kiss was gentle and delicate. JJ was excited and you were giddy.

Your lips were crushing together and moving against each other. JJ was feeling warm all over. Your hands were resting on JJ’s shoulders. One of JJ’s hand rested on your jaw and one hand snaked lower to your butt squeezing lightly. This caused you to gasp, allowing JJ’s tongue to slide into your mouth.

After making out you pulled away breathless. You wore a big smile and JJ laughed.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” JJ broke the silence.

“I’ve missed you too,” you responded.

“Will you be mine?” JJ asked.

“Yes, I’ll be yours,” you exclaimed.

JJ picked you up and spun you around, your laughter mixing together to create a sense of harmony and happiness. Since you and JJ were best of friends your romantic relationship will only flourish because you loved each other wholeheartedly.

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uncouth-the-fifth · 10 months

Text

click, p.2 - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (late s5) Tags/Warnings: angst, love confessions, romantic sex, oral sex/cunnilingus, (aka, Sam pussy addiction: the shequel), Sam is Lucifer's vessel, reader is AFAB. Word Count: ~11k. Notes: i was commissioned for the second time by the lovely @daffodil-mania, who wanted a continuation of her last fic set during the "say yes" era of s5. (sooooo dangerous to let me put my grubby hands on this version of Sam, btw). i cannot express how BUCK FUCKING WILD uncouth-nation went for the first part of this fic, so this is for all the wonderful people who gushed over click, commented, threw me some kudos, or even just read it and liked it. lots of love, and i hope you enjoy <3 i did my best to rip out your soul as best i could. THIS CAN STAND ON IT'S OWNNN AHHH. i mean. if u wanna read it <3 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

FIVE YEARS LATER

The walk from the bus stop to your apartment is a safe and easy seven minutes. If you were any other person in any other world, you’d glide onto the bus after your night shift at the university, hop off at your stop, and bumble toward your apartment without a single care in the world. Maybe stare at your phone the whole walk back. Text a hot guy who isn’t the physical manifestation of the devil on earth. Normal stuff.

But this is your life, so you sit front seat on the bus, hands in your lap, tapping a nervous beat against the angel blade hidden in your book bag. The windows rattle in their frames and gleam with rain. You could get off at your stop and take those easy seven minutes home—but the bus driver could also be a demon, so.

Since you aren’t in the mood to die a slow death tonight, walking a few extra blocks to keep anybody from knowing where you live will have to work.

On day two of this, you’d called Dean and asked if you were being extra paranoid. He’d kindly pointed out: Extra-paranoid is just extra-survival. I dunno about you, but survivin’ a lil’ extra sounds fan-fuckin-tastic to me right about now.

He’s right. You know he’s right. But it still doesn’t feel like a good answer, and that makes you picture Sam, twenty-three and still bright-eyed, running his fingers down your bare back and scowling. I’m sick of surviving. One of these days, I want to actually live my life.

But that had been before the apocalypse, before Dean’s deal, before everything. Sam was a different man now. Hunting had reached into all three of you and ripped all sorts of things out, but you would never forgive it for taking Sam’s hope for something better. God, you missed that Sam. You missed him more than anything.

The city bus lumbers up to the curb and spits you out onto the sidewalk, where you superstitiously hover, waiting for the other passengers crawling away from their night shifts to scatter. It’s only when the bus is a dark spot in the mist down the street that you start to walk, your whole body caked head to toe with oily rain.

This time, you take a random left toward your apartment and serpentine street-to-street, never walking the exact same way the same week. By the time you’re closer to where the bus could’ve actually dropped you off, the lingering smell of old research books has been practically power-washed out of your clothes. You try to think of anything but the freezing, biting, face-stinging rain… and, like a moth to a flame, your mind floats back to Sam.

It’s been over two weeks since he dropped the nuclear option. Over two weeks ago, Sam wanted to say yes to Lucifer, and over two weeks have passed since the massive, unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object fight that’d erupted as a result.

Dean had blown up. Sam had pushed. You’d burst into tears and clawed into Sam just as deep, because why, why would he ever go there—why would that even be a fathomable possibility in his mind? Did he really think so low of himself? How could he ever give up like that? How could he leave you—?

The worst part was easily the way Sam had reacted. With Dean or John, he could yell himself hoarse, but when it came to fighting you all he could do was sit and take it. He put his head down and nodded at everything you said, even the cruel things. In some ways it made you angrier, but also inconceivably, cosmically guilty. This was Sam’s choice. And of course, because this was Sam, his choice was to save the whole goddamn world. Not a single bone in your body carried that level of selflessness, yet Sam bled the stuff.

You were still furious with him, but only because being mad at him was the only option you had left. The right thing to do would be to tell Sam, I trust you to make this decision, this is your life, and let him take that jump… But you didn’t have it in you. Saying that felt like pushing him over the ledge yourself, or telling him you’d never cared about him in the first place. If you were angry at least you were still fighting for him in some way.

You’d been on board for everything—trying to find a way out of Dean’s deal, trying to kill Lilith, everything. But the argument with Sam had torn out the final piece of you that could stand this, so you packed a bag, told Dean you’d be in a strict research-only role, and booked it back to your hometown. It was cowardly and stupid and beyond selfish, but you knew your stance. The hunt had taken everything from you. You refused to let it take Sam, too.

Maybe, Sam would take you stepping away as a serious sign to change his mind. You couldn’t imagine a world where Sam and his Winchester stubbornness would ever do that, but. It was a nice wish to hold onto.

By the time you make it up the steps to your apartment building, you’re soaked to the bone and audibly making pathetic shivering sounds. Your bookbag feels heavier than ever, digging a trench into your shoulder as you fish around for your keys. The second your apartment door is open the true weight of your exhaustion hits you—

—and then utterly disappears, replaced by a shock of pure adrenaline.

There’s a new pair of boots by your front door.

You catch the heavy door before it goes swinging against the doorjamb, straining your ears against the ringing silence. The bedside lamp is on in your room.

On dead-quiet feet, you slip in, click the door shut behind you, and slip off your bookbag. Your angel blade is in your hand in a second, but you risk a few extra steps toward your kitchen table to wiggle loose the pistol you taped underneath. Just the weight of your weapons in your hands flicks the hunter muscle memory back on in your body, and before you can think you’re hiding in the shadow beside your bedroom door. Listening.

Soft breathing. The pages of a book turning.

You know, instinctively, who it is—you would know him dumb and blind and dead. But these days, anybody could be piloting his body around.

You suck in a deep breath through your nose, heart throbbing in your ears. You wait until the fingers on your gun aren’t shaking anymore, then burst inside the room, slamming the door into the wall and whipping your pistol up to eye level.

Sam’s head flinches towards you. He is exactly as you saw him two weeks ago; solemn, determined, and open, the air around him practically steaming with safety and goodness. He’s sat comfortably on your bed, reading a book he brought with him. Despite everything, your belly still curls with butterflies when you lay eyes on him. Sam. Definitely Sam, and no one else.

Still, your paranoia has gotten you this far. You both stare at each other for a beat, equal parts scared out of your minds and relieved. Without a word, you keep your gun trained on him, and Sam lets you, his eyes big and understanding. You shuffle sideways to your dresser, and without turning away from him, pop open the top drawer and toss him the silver flask of holy water you keep hidden inside.

He catches it. So, not a shapeshifter, then. Sam takes a drink of the holy water, even turning to the side so you can see the water go into his mouth. (A demon in Missouri had slipped past the three of you by pretending to sip—only Sam would know that.) You’re still a little terrified, but you manage to pull your weapons back down to your sides. You still don’t know what to say.

He’s really here. The part of you that had worried the argument with Sam would be your last wails with joy. He’s here, alive and in front of you. No matter how awkward you feel you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him. By the buttery light of your bedside lamp, he literally glows with beauty, and you realize he’d scrubbed his boots off on your welcome mat to not track mud in, and he’d hung up his rain-soaked jacket in your shower to dry. Stupid polite Sam things.

You dare to glance back at your kitchen, then swivel to squint at him. “Did you… do my dishes?”

Sam lets his hands relax into his lap and nods, shy. He’s looking at you in a way he never really has before, eyes big and soul-rending. “…Yeah. I used the key you gave me to get in… Hope that’s okay.”

There’s another long pause. Usually when you stare at Sam, he doesn’t stare so intensely back, but you share a weird mutual moment where you just stand there and take each other in. It’s so obvious it’s painful, but if he’s doing it then you feel entitled to devour him with your eyes too.

“I got, uh, bored. Waiting for you,” Sam clarifies. “Thought I’d make myself useful.”

Sam stands from the bed. For a second you think he’s heading straight for you, but he moves toward the dresser behind you, kindly tucking the holy water back where it was stowed. You flit out of his way as fast as you can and set your weapons down on the closest available surface, feeling off-kilter. Why would he come here? Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind?

You hold onto the question, but you know it’s too out of character to hope for. Despair sinks into your gut like a rock in a pond. You know why Sam’s here. He would never make this decision without telling you first—without at least saying goodbye in person.

Your throat locks up with tears.

Behind you, Sam hums, “You changed your hair.”

Right. You’d altered it to be more undercover. You resist the urge to reach up and play with your hair, or give in to any of the fluttery feelings you always feel around Sam. “It’s safer.” Tightly, you ask him, “What are you doing here?”

Sam drags a long breath through his nose. You clutch the end of your bookshelf, your chest crumpling with misery. Please don’t say it. Please, please, lie to me if you have to.

“...I’m not taking the jump,” Sam breathes.

There’s more that he says after that. He talks about how you and Dean are right, and how, surely, after everything that the three of you have been through, there’s got to be another way to end this. You’ve always found another way in the past. Sam explains all this to you in a sure, quiet voice, like this is something he’s thought about for a long time, but you barely hear him after those first words. There’s this persistent tension in your chest that’s telling you that there’s something wrong here, but you don’t care—you don’t give a single fucking shit, because Sam—Sam isn’t saying yes. Sam’s staying.

“…are other ways I can make up for the mistakes I made,” he’s telling you, scrambling to fill the nagging silence.

You take a moment to force back your tears, and Sam, nervously, keeps talking.

He swallows, trying to smile. “I-I would’ve called and told you, but something tells me you wouldn’t have picked up.”

When you’ve got your bearings back, you push away from your bookshelf and turn to face him. Your legs are so leaden that you feel as if you have to physically pick up your body and drop it down the other direction, but you manage it. “What… what made you change your mind?”

Sam gets one look at your face and wilts with guilt. He doesn’t answer your question in words—just shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at his feet, then around your room, as if his reason was in the air with the two of you. In the apartment. His eyes flicker over you just once, and you understand. Seeing you leave really had scared him.

“Be careful,” you start to joke with him, “you start validating my childish reactions and we’re gonna have a whole new set of problems on our hands.”

Sam scoffs. “It wasn’t childish to run away.”

You raise an eyebrow at his word choice, which gets an honest-to-god laugh out of him. A real good Sam Winchester laugh, dimples and all. The last dregs of anxiety in your gut melt at the sound, and Sam reassures you, shrugging, “You needed to get out. In case you forgot, I kind of invented wanting to get out. I understand. I really do.”

You know that he does. That’s not exactly going to stop you from feeling guilty about ditching them, but at least it kicked some sense into him. God. For the last five or six years, your every moment had been spent with Sam and his brother. Even just a couple weeks without him had drained you, and having him back only makes those feelings more clear. Sam’s presence commands the space in a way that turns your shitty, undecorated bedroom into someplace magical, someplace good and safe and warm, and just seeing him standing there draws the ache out of your spine.

Your reach out for his sleeve. Somehow, he’s more real than ever, a tangible person instead of the memory you’ve chased for so long.

“You’re really not saying yes?”

Sam unwinds your hand from the fabric so he can hold it instead, your fingers scooped in his fingers. You’re given a firm squeeze and are hypnotized by him in an instant, the world narrowing down to this moment between just him and just you.

Sam looks into your eyes when he promises, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears you’d resisted before return in one big, merciless wave. You’re so tired and the rain was so fucking cold and you’re so sick of being scared that Sam, thank god, Sam, is everything you could possibly need. He’s not going anywhere. Before you can stop yourself you’re clutching him for dear life, shoving your face in his shirt and crushing his body against yours. These last few weeks have submerged you in survival mode, and you don’t realize how deep until Sam pulls you out of the current. He’s warm and dry, and when you inhale to sob he smells like a 24-hour-laundromat, the Impala, and home home home. You could’ve lost that. You could’ve lost him.

“Th-thank you,” you choke out at nothing in particular, “thank you.”

You’ve cried a lot this week, so there are not many tears left to shed. Still, Sam holds you through all of them, swaying back and forth with you and cooing in your ear. You hear him sniffling too. When you’re both all sobbed out, you pull back to tell him you love him, to remind him of all the things he needs to hear, but Sam strangely doesn’t let you. The second he feels you pull away he clutches you back against him, and you get the uneasy impression that you’ve been comforting him more than he’s been comforting you. His whole body’s shaking.

Sam hugs you for longer than he ever has before. It’s a little worrying, but you’ve both needed it so much that you don’t even complain.

After a while, Sam slips back, and in traditional Winchester fashion tries to play off his vulnerability. He’s always been a dead-silent crier, so you have zero way to gauge how bad things are until you see his face. He looks like he’d sobbed his heart out. Your shirt is still wet from the rain, but even then you can feel Sam’s tears soaking your shoulder. Saying anything about it will just embarrass him, though.

“...I-I, uh,” you lick the tears off your lips, mumbling, “I don’t know bout’ you, but I’m beat. Do you have somewhere you gotta be, or,” you add hopefully, “or can you stick around?”

This is the part where Sam will start coaxing you to drive back with him to where he and Dean are holed up, you’re sure of it. You’re already plotting in your head what to pack and what to take, but Sam never brings it up. He doesn’t worry about tomorrow yet.

He presses his lips together. “I was hoping I could stay here tonight, actually.”

This is an even better answer. You’re nodding before he’s even finished the thought, stroking your hand down his chest. It twists your gut in knots to see him like this, so you start to steer the conversation toward something more playful, something less daunting to think about.

“You’re lucky I like you then,” you smirk. Somehow, you manage to peel yourself out of his bubble and teeter toward your dresser, scrubbing the tears off your face. “Make yourself comfortable. I dunno about you, but I’m getting the fuck out of these work clothes, I’m freezing. Do you need anything to sleep in? I’ve got at least five years of your stolen shirts in here.”

You hear him ease himself down on the end of your bed again, but there’s no sassy retort, sly comment, or any sort of line about you and your stealing habits. Instead, sweet and simple, he says, “I’ll just sleep in this. You can have them.”

Okay. Weird.

Since he didn’t take the bait, you throw out another line and try again. This time, you kick off your shoes, open a drawer, and turn back to him with two of his shirts in hand. “Really?” You wave them teasingly in the air. “You sure?”

They are some of his best shirts, easy. You’re not a cheap thief. The first is a holey, feather-soft Red Hot Chili Peppers tee, and the second is a deep maroon Stanford sweater. He has so few artifacts from that time in his life that there’s no way he won’t want this one back. Right?

But Sam just gazes at you, his whole face soft and loving as he says, “You should wear the Stanford one. It looks good on you.”

Those old hot-shivery feelings for him seep down your spine, and you feel in real-time how your cheeks flood with heat. Damn, okay. Consider yourself wooed.

You’ve been down this road with Sam many, many times—enough to know when he’s flirting with you. The forbidden labels had never been thrown around, but. Well. Sam had been your first time, as well as the many other times after that.

He’s usually leagues more subtle than his brother, but for whatever reason he’s pouring it on by the truckload tonight. When you turn around he’s nothing but big, happy puppy eyes, waiting patiently for you at the end of the bed. (Like you’re his girlfriend. Like anything about this is normal at all, and you and Sam are going to tuck into bed together like it’s any other night). Fuck, you missed him.

The bathroom is only a few steps away, but this is Sam, so you decide to just throw on your pajamas right here. Your shirt is so wet that it hits the floor with a slap. It also takes some experience to wring yourself out of your denim-turned-cement jeans, so it’s not the sexiest show in the entire world. Still, Sam’s gaze traces sensual lines down your back. You would rather go to literal, actual hell than wear your bra for a minute longer, so the second you’re free of its death grip, a long happy sigh drains out of you. A similar dreamy sigh drains out of Sam. Dork.

“I will never get tired of that,” Sam murmurs. You expect to hear some kind of hunger there, but the timber of his voice bleeds with admiration and fondness.

There are very few ways to be a normal human being while Sam Winchester adores your nude body with his eyes. The best you can do is burst into flustered, giggly laughter and give him a good eyeroll, your entire face cooking like a stove burner.

“Alright, loverboy,” you scoff, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and take my makeup off—”

“Can I help?” Sam asks.

You sputter out another laugh, confused. “You wanna brush my teeth for me?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head, smiling big, “Lemme take your makeup off for you.”

Okay. Weirder. But it’s sweet, and you like this side of him, so you decide to indulge his mood. “...Sure.”

You go about your night-time routine. Sam continues to be a weirdo, trailing you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe, and blinking slow endearing blinks at you as he… watches you brush your teeth. Just. Stands there, watching, utterly enamored with this little moment of domesticity with you. On the surface level you’re a little thrown off, but it falls under the category of Freaky Sam Things that made you catch feelings for him in the first place, so. You grin into your toothbrush the whole time.

When he’s satisfied by his little ogling fest, he drifts off to hunt around for your makeup wipes. Either you’re predictable or he knows you too well, because he finds them within seconds, and patiently sits back as you finish up your routine, watching you like you’ll disappear on him the moment he turns away. Click click, you feel inside you.

“Okay,” he says when you’re done. “Close your eyes.”

You do. You wait for the cool touch of the wipe on your face, but instead, Sam’s big, rough fingers find your chin and hold you still. It takes conscience effort to not melt into his touch like a cat in a square of sunlight. Your willpower is nothing on Sam’s, though, so you give in quickly, sinking into his hand and sighing through your nose. In gentle swipes, he cleans your face. It must be a nightmare of smeared mascara considering how you’d cried earlier… And yet Sam had still been so transfixed by you. He’s the fucking best.

Sam’s hand tilts your head from side to side to survey his handiwork. Pleased, he tosses the wipe in the trash and says, “There you go.”

You open your eyes and go to double-check his work in the mirror, but Sam hasn’t removed his hand from your chin, and you really, really don’t want him to. His thick thumb comes up and caresses under your lips. He looks at you like he loves you, and with all the honesty in the world, he utters, “...You are so pretty.”

…The only way for you to survive this is by throwing him a dry look. “You’re full of shit. What’s your game, Winchester?”

That earns you another authentic Sam laugh, along with a handsome boyish smile. “There’s no game. What are you talking about?”

You squint at him. Liar.

“This.” You gestured between the two of you, suspicious. “You’re mooning over me. Why are you mooning? Are you planning something?”

A ripple of discomfort rolls across Sam’s face, but it passes too fast for you to read. His hands go right back in his pockets and he leans into the doorframe again. “I’m just… happy we’re not fighting,” he confesses.

Oh. That makes sense. Sam hasn’t exactly made up with you like that before, but. These times change everyone. You ease up on your teasing and admit, “Me too.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you away,” Sam says, and far, far too seriously for your liking, he whispers, “I’m sorry for everything.”

Your answer slips right out of your mouth without hesitation. “I forgive you, stupid,” your brows furrow together. “And I’m sorry, too. I said some pretty shitty stuff back there.”

Sam wilts against the doorframe a little. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

A dull pulse of anger flares in your chest, which flickers out and dies not a second later. There’s so much you want to say to that.

It is so fucking unfair—biblically, cosmically unfair—that Sam, the good guy to end all good guys, thinks of himself this way. He is the kind of righteous they make saints out of. And yet he sits in your silly little bathroom in your shitty little apartment and gives you that look, the look that says, I deserve this and so much more. I deserve to rot in hell for all eternity. He gave you that exact look when he brought up saying yes. He gives it to you now, because Sam sees everything as a sin to serve penance for—freeing Lucifer from the cage and making you a little worried. He thinks he’s so evil, so beyond saving. It makes you want to get your fists in your shirt and just shake him.

You’re good! You want to scream. Just for once in your life, listen to me! None of this is your fault!

There’s nothing you could say to him that would ever make him let go of his guilt. But, at the very least, you could help him forget about it for a while.

“You beat yourself up too much,” you scold. Then, softer, you add, “C’mere, Sammy.”

Sam does as told, planting himself right in front of you. God, he’s changed. You look him over with a bittersweet smile. He used to be so spindly. The last few years have filled him out, forcing his body into something ready for war. The hunt reached in and tore all sorts of things out of people, but you’d been wrong about what it’d ripped out of Sam. His optimism was still there, warm and humming in the tissue of his body, and just seeing it fills you with hope. He looks so different from the man you’d had all to yourself in that cabin, but you can feel that he’s still in there. He’s still your Sam.

You take his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs into his dimples and quietly, needily rasping, “...Can I take care of you?”

Sam’s whole body shudders with relief. “Please, yes.”

The next few beats of this dance haven’t changed. Like always, Sam comes flying in with a big, smashing kiss that shatters any leftover barriers between you. You’re not Sam’s girlfriend and he’s not your boyfriend, but Sam makes you his with this kiss. (If only for a little while). Your noses mash together and his eyes squeeze shut and then everything is just Sam, Sam, Sam at every angle. His hands are at his sides then suddenly they’re all over you, taking two greedy handfuls of your waist under the Stanford sweater. He jams your hips against his and kisses you senseless, towering over you, surrounding you, so that when you pull back to gasp for breath your lungs are flooded with his familiar heady love potion.

Either he’s giving off some Poison Ivy-level pheromones, or your body is so familiar with these steps that it knows what comes after this kiss… because you’re instantly wet.

You realized a long time ago that you and Sam have sex a bit too often for it to be considered “casual,” but even if it was, Sam is not a casual kind of lay. After that first soul-stealing kiss, Sam stares you down like a four-course meal, spins you around, pushes you down chest-first onto the bathroom counter, drops to his knees—

—and shoves his face between your legs like it’s his goddamn job.

In the middle of all your surprised shrieking and squirming, Sam nuzzles his face into your panties and moans deep and bassy in his throat, “Yes.”

Like he’s won something. Like he’s been waiting weeks to do this. Holy fuck, you’ll never get tired of that.

The second you have even an atom of your reason back, you slap a hand over your mouth. Neighbors! Sam has already forgotten what neighbors are, and is holy-mission-from-god-determined to make you noisy. He’s extra hungry for it tonight, too. You squeak out his name, not so much in shock, but more because having those huge hands squeezing where your ass starts to round out tends to produce a reaction, and Sam rumbles like a lawnmower in approval. Holy fuck.

He doesn’t have to ask you to spread your legs. One of the hands appreciating your ass slides between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear, and you have to try not to squeal when the meaty pad of Sam’s thumb swipes across your clothed folds. He presses a big kiss in that exact spot as he drags your panties down your legs, and it’s a weirdly sweet gesture that makes your heart and your belly flutter with shivery heat. Fuck. Fuck, you missed him so much.

The first few times Sam had sprung this move on you, you hadn’t exactly had enough time to fully rev up. But Sam is deadly efficient in and out of the bedroom, so he makes a point to get you extra wet (for him) with his spit, laving his hot, slippery tongue over you in one long swipe. He eats you out with all the obscene, noisy enjoyment of somebody gorging on the juiciest fruit they’ve ever tasted. Even you are scandalized.

It becomes embarrassingly clear that covering your mouth isn’t going to keep Sam from what he wants. The high, desperate moan you try to stifle only makes him work harder. You press an arm flat to the counter and bury your face in it for strength, since you’re weak and whimpering for him already.

Sam was good in bed when you met him. But, by nature, he is a relentless and avid learner, and it’s been five whole years since he put his mouth on you for the first time. Now, Sam is a certified pussy-eating weapon. He knows your body better than anyone possibly could. You’re over the edge in a minute flat.

Your climax flies through you in one whizzing, sparking rush, then keeps flying, until your body’s squeezing out little squeaky pleas for mercy of its own accord. This is his favorite part. You claw into the countertop and wail for it, pushing at the floor in your socks to gain any sort of leverage. To press closer? To squirm away? You have zero fucking clue, since the thought part of your brain has been blasted into a smoking crater. Sam wraps a big arm around your spasming thigh to pin you open, and holy fucking shit, could that man suck the chrome off a tailpipe. His mouth is a whirlwind of licking and suction just on the right side of oh fuck too much that makes your skin feel like it’s fizzing. You are a thread that he’s just pulling and pulling until you’re so thin you could snap into nothing—

You wait for the moment when Sam pops off you, stands up, and goes for his zipper, but he never does. He remains on the floor, determined to lick you through overstimulation and straight into round two. But that’s a whole minute you could spend with his dick inside you instead, and there’s no fucking way you’re wasting that. Not when he’s here and real and not going to say yes. Sam’s not going anywhere. He’s staying, he’s alive, and the world isn’t going to end tomorrow.

“No no no,” you bite out in one short, rattling breath. “S-Suh—Sam, please please—” An unexpected sob shreds out of you. “Miss you. Need you.”

You’re actually, genuinely crying, and not entirely in the fun sexed-out way. Sam backs up. He’s not even halfway standing when you wrench him up the rest of the way, straight into a desperate, maddening kiss. It’s a brutal cross of teeth and tongue. The need for body heat and skin and him burns through you like genuine bloodlust, so you cram yourself up against him with life-or-death urgency. You get your nails into him until you feel something like shirt fabric and viciously yank it over his head, waiting for the moment when he grabs your wrists or shoves you onto the bed o-or—or starts to blow off steam. Cause’ that’s what this is all about, right?

He drags your mouths apart. Sam pants, “Slow down.”

You stop.

This is. This is new.

There’s no slowing, with this. You both go and you keep going until there’s no more fuel in your tanks, and you crawl out of bed the next day feeling like you’ve beaten the rot out of each other. You’ve never once slowed down during this before, and as your wheels spin to a halt for the first time, reality filters back in around you.

Sam stares at you. His hair is all over the place. A patchy blush speckles up his heaving chest, burning in his ears and in his cheeks. Your slick shines on his lips and the bulb of his nose. He’s just standing there and fucking looking at you, but for whatever reason it feels like the color has seeped back into the world.

“S’okay. Gonna be okay,” Sam hushes, bleeding with sweetness.

He picks up your hands, moving you as if you were a delicate glass he was turning over in each palm. Each of your hands are kissed in the center (oh my fucking god) then wrapped around his neck, and when he has you in his bubble he scoops up your face and kisses you.

It’s a boyfriend kiss. Not a blowing off steam thing, or any other excuse the two of you have used to feel each other. A genuine, I’m your boyfriend and I love you sort of kiss, foreheads pressed together, noses touching, the whole nine yards. It’s the kind of kiss that’s meant to say something. Every inch of what he’s trying to tell you echoes through your body in one ringing smash, like you’re a big cymbal he’s taken a mallet to.

He slips off your lips and hovers, bracing himself for impact. You suck in a rattling breath.

…Then you press up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss of your own, just pressing your lips against his, unmoving. It’s undemanding; an answer. You try to find the words to describe the shift that’s occurred between you, and end up feeling stuttery and shivery and fucking elated. Romantic. It’s fucking romantic.

“Sammy,” you sob out.

“Shhh. C’mere,” Sam whispers, his voice throaty and whiskey smooth. “Lemme make it better.”

He tries to walk you straight back out of the bathroom and towards the bed, he really does, but you stop Sam every other step to overwhelm him with obsessed, affectionate kisses. God. His chapstick is all over your fucking mouth (along with your slick) and his hands are everywhere else, feeling instead of grabbing.

“You always do,” you breathe, and that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to him in bed.

Sam gets this quiet, pleased smile on his face. No matter how naked and turned-on you are, you’ve always got a snappy reply ready, and you’re about to throw one at him—until you’re fucking obliterated. He smoothes his palms down your arms. Your wrists are scooped up again. With all the tenderness on the planet, Sam slides in close, kisses your throat, and places both of your hands firmly on his belt.

“Take it off,” he rasps.

This. This isn’t the first time he’s given you that order. But knowing, feeling that he’s playing this all out like it’s more than a fling to him… that Sam’s gonna fuck you like you’re someone special to him… sweet jesus, it makes you lightheaded.

“Bossy,” your murmur, grinning.

You’re downright feverish going in to kiss him next. Sam parts your lips with a slow, sinful swipe of his tongue, and there must be a drop of psychic still in him, because suddenly you’re flooded with visions of that filthy mouth between your legs. You can still feel the ghost of him there, keeping you open with his thumbs as the blunt tip of his tongue pushes you somewhere vast and sparkly and wonderful. This is going to be even better.

He sounds like he’s praying when he says, “I just like to watch you.”

Muscle memory serves. You work his clasp open without peeking down and let it hang in his belt loops, mostly because it lets his jeans sling low on his hips in the most enticing way. His belly twitches at even the slightest touch of your hands; always so responsive. Sam drops his forehead on your shoulder to watch you work, and you take the rare opportunity to kiss the top of his head. This is one of your favorite parts. When his button is undone and his zipper’s down, you’re free to smooth your hand under his waistband and take a big handful of him.

You reach in and—squeeze. Sam’s hand snaps up to clutch your arm. His nails dig in, and he rocks forward onto his tiptoes to really dig into your touch. “Yes.”

It’s the kind of soft, needy sound that makes you want to smother him with kisses and hug him until he suffocates. Instead, you cooly purr into his hair, “So sensitive, Sammy.”

A hoarse, sharp laugh snaps out of him, which dissolves into a shuddering groan. You tug at his jeans until they’re somewhere you don’t care about anymore, and forget about everything else entirely at the sight of his cock. All these years of sneaking around with him have conditioned you. Just seeing the pretty speckling of dark hair that leads to it, then the real deal, hanging blood-hot and heavy between his legs, makes your tummy flip and your mouth water. One of a million embarrassing Sam-reactions you’ll have to bring to your grave.

You take his cock in your hand, trying to swallow back the slutty amount of saliva in your mouth. Sam whimpers. A real, desperate sound, with his nails stinging down your arms and everything.

“Know you wanted to slow down,” you struggle between open-mouthed pants, “b-but—can’t—don’t wanna wait—”

Sam physically curls towards you, his hips seizing into your hand and his arms hooking around your shoulders. You’re dragged in for a sloppy kiss so deep you swear it melds your souls together. Sam is just as affected, rumbling like a racecar in approval.

“Then don’t.” He begs.

If this was any other night, Sam would just take. You’d be face down and drilled halfway through the mattress by now, no preamble, all business. He got off and you got off and everyone was happy that way. Sam would want the room dark and you would hide your face in the bedding, the two of you eager to touch and experience but terrified of breaking the illusion. He’s so generous that you suppose he’s got to have at least one place in life where he’s selfish, and you’re happy to be his outlet for it, but.

You’ve never seen him take this way before.

He looks at you and he never really stops, transfixed. You don’t doubt you could walk in a circle around him and Sam’s eyes would follow you the whole way, his gaze oozing with longing and something else—resolution? Faith? You push him onto the bed, and he drops down as if hobbling into a pew for the first time, unsure how to clasp his hands in prayer because it’s only ever been something done in his head before.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“God,” Sam utters, spellbound.

You’re blushing so hard that you forget to be sexy as you crawl into his lap, but Sam doesn’t care, still giving you those big slow doe blinks to express his love. It’s so different from the Sam you know (yet also so deeply, deeply him) that you forget what it means to be sexy entirely. He coaxes you closer to plant tender kisses under your chin, and the plan to seductively peel off your sweater for him and flash him your tits blips out of existence.

You wait for the moment when Sam shreds the Stanford sweater off you. Instead, those wonderful fucking hands tease under the hem to squeeze your waist, and Sam croaks out between kisses, “Should wear this all the time. You’re beautiful in anything, but this… you’re… mmn.”

Your heart gives a pathetic flutter. You press mindless kisses against his mouth and rock your bare core down on his lap, because he’s never acted this way before and you don’t know how else to return the favor. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Sammy.”

The only reaction you get from him is a single huff out of his nose, like it’s something he can’t commit a whole laugh to. Like none of that matters anymore, like it would never matter for Sam, because his body may be beautiful, but it hardly belongs to him anymore. God, you’re shitty at compliments.

You’re fucking wonderful, you suddenly want to tell him. A whole swarm of little truths and sweet nothings roars straight up to the surface of your mind, a whole sea of better things you could say to him, but then one of those perfect hands is slipping between your legs and Sam’s asking you in that perfect, tinted glass voice, “You still on the pill?”

“Yes, doctor,” you tease.

Another flood of sticky heat rushes between your legs, because that question is always a precursor to being pressed into and filled and stuffed end-to-end by Sam’s dick. The one barrier that doesn’t—didn’t exist between you.

“Good,” Sam sighs, relieved, grateful. He never turned down going raw in the past, but he’s downright starved for it right now. Closer closer closer, his whole body begs.

You’re tugged in by a big hand hooked around your back, and you fall right into Sam’s summer-warm, sweat-sticky chest, giggling. He loops both arms around your middle and teddy-bear squeezes even more laughter out of you. The only way to hold yourself up is by planting two hands on his shoulders… which turns into his cupping his neck… then caressing his face, because it’s impossible to be witness to that quiet boyish grin and not shower him in affection. There’s all these little freckles on him that you can only see up close. He feels good, mystical good, prophetic-chosen-one type good.

This is the moment. You can feel the blood in your body pounding between your legs, and Sam’s cock bumps not-so-innocently against your core as you kiss one another. Every shift of his hands sends your muscles clenching tight, bracing for impact, but Sam doesn’t push into you just yet.

Your confusion must be clear on your face, because he says, “Just let me feel you for a second.”

And, obviously, you’re not an idiot, so you let Sam feel you for as long as he pleases. For the next ten uninterrupted minutes, you makeout like lovesick teenagers, whimpering and sighing and swallowing every sound the other makes. You’d always pegged him as a romantic. But seeing it, feeling it, adds a whole new dimension to him you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

By the time the pool of need in your gut has opened up into a blackhole, Sam has caressed or squeezed or kissed every part of you ten times over. He continues to be weird and obsessed with you. (So still in character, then). Sam even pinches the ends of your ears and smooths his thumbs over the bumps of your ankles, being sexy about it but also a little terrifying. He touches you like he’s never gonna see you again.

Around the time that Sam starts suckling marks into your neck and trying to tickle you under your arms, you giggle out, “O-Okay—okay! Enough—!”

“Enough what?” Sam cocks his head. His hand makes another dive for your belly, making you shriek and squirm with more giggles. You try to wriggle away to protect your tickling sides, but Sam’s too strong and you’re a little in love with him, so it’s easy for him to pull you flush against him and blow tingly-warm breaths beside your ear. He purrs, “You need it that badly?”

“Fucking yes! So quit torturing me,” you pant, and you’re pretty sure this grin is going to get stuck on your face.

Sam’s smile gets even bigger. “Only if you say please.”

Your attitude slips from your grip like water. Next time, you’ll play push and pull with him, but right now there needs to be a lot more pushing and pulling in a different context.

The words are out of your mouth in an instant. “Please, Sam.”

As reluctant as he is to stop teasing you, Sam’s a little in love, too. He leans back enough to fist his cock in one hand, and you can’t help how your breath hitches when Sam’s touch follows the curve of your ass to where you’re soaked and sensitive for him. Those thick, maddening fingers spread you open. The velvety tip of his cock finds your hole right away, and your legs nearly give out when Sam starts to swipe himself up and down your folds one dizzying stroke at a time. Back…. and forth. Up… and down. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay, fine…” He concedes, his eyes glittering with joy. “You’re just so cute when you act all tough.”

Maybe not all of your attitude is gone. You bark out a laugh, telling him, “I hate you.”

Sam presses down for the last time, then presses in. You don’t mean to look into his eyes when he fills you up, and that’s probably what does you in. Sam’s rosy face flutters and twists with pleasure, but he never stops looking at you, not even once, terrified to miss even a small moment. The long hitching moan that slips out of you makes his whole face darken with desire. You’re pulled onto him deeper and deeper and deeper until—click. Cue the angel choir.

Your fingers dig desperately into his hair. Sam curls into you in one slow pulling movement, a thread pulled taut, until his face is stuffed in your neck and his hands are mindlessly scrabbling down your back.

“God, I love you,” he moans.

Soon your pussy feels achy and hair-trigger-sensitive and beyond full, which could mean that you’re all the way on him. It’s impossible to tell, since the first full minute of having Sam’s dick inside you sends you straight to the moon every time, where everything falls in peaceful slow-motion and the whole world hums with cosmic, sparkling pressure. You shove your face into him and nuzzle in a daze, little ripples of electricity sparking up your spine.

…Wait.

“What?” You register, slow.

Sam is still clutching you for dear life, even if the moment’s slowed and you’re both comfortable. He hugs you full-bodied, nose in your neck, tilted forward, the kind of hug where he sways you side to side with joy. Sam sucks in a harsh breath. Can’t hold back anymore.

“I love you,” he gushes. The words burn out of him, declarative, overjoyed.

There’s so much you want to say to that. But then Sam digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you off his lap, only to gloriously sink you down the rest of the way, and. Fuck fuck fuck. His cock drags thick and hot against the pliant walls of your pussy. You couldn’t be any more full if you tried, clamping down on him with long, silky ripples of pressure that outline the shape of him inside you in obscene detail. It’s the kind of mind-blowing that’s beyond comprehension, beyond feeble human understanding. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper into his hair.

“God, I love you,” he chants again through grit teeth. “So much. So fucking much.”

You find his face with your hands and kiss him quiet, tasting the promise in his mouth. When you part and the two of you really start to move, you kiss him again, and again, whispering where only he can hear, “I-I love you too.”

It should scare you how easily the confession slips out. You should be terrified, because even if you live to see next week, or next month, or next year, even if Sam isn’t saying yes to Lucifer, those words are a death sentence. And yet.

“I-I miss you,” you choke out, “I need you.”

“Me too. So much,” Sam soothes, his voice tight and sharp with restraint. You know his instinct is to jackhammer up into you and never stop, but he puts in effort to resist, letting you both marinate in the wonderful, glistening, twitchy feeling of each other. His hands are rubbing your back and he is so fucking warm, turning the rain outside to steam.

He doesn’t bounce you on his dick. It’s more of a slow, cresting drag, waves stroking a beach. You don’t think you could handle much more than that, anyway—sometimes these positions make him feel big enough to pop you like a balloon. What you can’t fit on your own, your weight pushes you down onto anyway, turning your whole body into a big expanding bubble of pressure ready to burst at any moment. You clutch at his shoulders and just throb around him for a second.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam leans away, not letting you shove your face in him like you want. Instead, a big hand cups one side of your neck and keeps you in front of him. “Wanna see your face. Look at me. Look at me,” he insists, genuinely pleading.

When your eyes find his, that’s when he decides to snap up into you for real. You don’t even get a full look at him. The arm slung around your waist drags you up off your wobbling knees, then slams you down into a beautiful, endless white space popping with color.

“Sammy!” You choke.

That’s the magic word. You’re instantly thrust up into four more lightning-fast times, one-two-three-four, and hitch out four squeaky gasps to match. Sam’s eyes bore into yours with every beat, blazing with liquid love. For a second you wonder if you’ve fallen back into your rough routine again. But then words and thoughts melt out of your brain altogether, because Sam draws you into the tenderest, sweetest kiss human beings are capable of, fucking into you deep and smooth with that deeper, smoother voice, “Keep saying that.”

Sammy Sammy Sammy, you rattle out under your breath. Sam hisses out your name the exact same way.

You do your best to help him out a little, bobbing up and down in his lap, but’s a drop of water in the ocean for him. All Sam cares about is seeing your reaction. He soaks up everything you do like a sponge, moaning when you moan, gritting his teeth when you bite your lip, grinding up as you stir down. The weight of his eyes on you is so heavy that your skin stings in its wake. Again, it’s Sam’s brand of freak-sweetness that makes you get stupid notions in your head about wedding rings and anniversary presents. But that’s—

…something he knows about. Something he just said to you five minutes ago. Above the haze of bouncing, rhythmic pleasure, you’re flooded with relief. You can tell him! Holy fuck, you can tell him!

“I love you,” you gasp out again, and just saying it feels like it could save the world. “O-oh, god, Sam—”

The breath you have left is stolen from you by another fierce kiss from him, so passionate it lets you taste the bassy, happy hum that rumbles in Sam’s throat. You’re devoured by feverish kisses for a full minute, then Sam pops off you to sob, “So much—so fucking much, yes.”

He slips a hand between the two of you to thumb your clit, stirring in and never once stopping. Every so often he’ll brush up against where you’re hot and filled to the hilt with him, your bodies sliding together with slick, filthy noises that are so—so fucking much that your thighs cramp up, protesting the constant pistoning. But the pleasure is easily worth the burn. Your core booms with long echoes of pleasure that shudder through the trembling spiderwebs that make up your nerves. You make a move to lean back on your hands and switch up the angle, (since you’re a damn good cowgirl, thank you very much), but Sam refuses to stop kissing you. He physically pulls you back in with a hand fished around your neck and kisses you breathless, determined to pound you to your climax one thorough snap of his hips at a time.

“So beautiful,” Sam gushes. His voice is hoarse and thready, like he’s moments away from bursting into tears of pure desire.

You smooth your hands down his flushed cheeks, telling him between huffy moans, “It’s okay, s’ okay, Sammy… so pretty… love you so much…”

You feel him pull the Stanford sweater up over your ass and out of his way, exposing more, more, more of your bare skin for him to touch. Sam palms the slope of your back and your belly in a daze, but that’s still not enough—he’ll never be satisfied with how little of you he’s had. He wants more. He wants forever. You embrace each other to the fullest, cheeks smushed together, chests flush, his parted lips claiming your throat, making you his—but. Sam’s breath ratchets up. Not enough not enough not enough—

In one ragged motion, Sam rolls you both over, tossing you back-first onto the bedding and smothering you with his weight.

A squeal of delight jumps out of you. “Hey!”

If Sam wasn’t all over you before, then he literally is now, dropping onto his elbows so he can cup your face in both hands and surround you completely. “Sorry,” he croaks, “need you. Need to fill you up.”

You whisper against his lips, “Then fill me up already.”

His thumbs press into your cheeks a little. Sam’s breath fans across your face, throttled by the lump in his throat.

“Tell me you love me again.”

Um. You don’t exactly have the sexy heat of the moment to hide behind this time, but you still want to say it for him. His eyes swim with something unreadable. Desire and love, enough love to put a lump in your throat too, but a third thing also. It worries you.

You bring your hands up to stroke his wrists, and give a bit too much of your soul to him when you promise, “...I love you, Sam.”

The words hit him like a bullet. Sam shudders from head to toe, unable to reign himself in any longer, and plants a long, surging kiss on your mouth that makes your belly flash with nuclear levels of lust. He squirms his hands underneath your body so he can cradle you against him—genuinely cradling, one palm cupping the back of your neck—and then burrows into you face-first, groaning your name as his cock nestles itself as deep as it can go.

With all of his weight on top of you, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. You caress and kiss and dig your nails into him, and somewhere along the way you’re given a dose of whatever has made him fucking insane for you right now. It fogs your head and turns your reason to ash, so when Sam returns to ruining you for any other man, you whimper, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam hiccups out, and something strange hangs in his voice.

You would ask him what’s wrong, but the shuddering, flimsy scraps left of your brain are busy being blasted all over by white-hot pleasure. Everything scorches. Sam’s bare skin and his breath and his hands feel fucking molten, melting you down like hot glass. You’re pinned down in every possible way, and it pushes the sinking, gorgeous pressure inside you all over your body, like it’s not just Sam’s cock filling you up, but him, just him, the source of all good in the world. Holy fucking fuck. His hips glide back and then thud back into you again and again and again. You get why it’s called making love, now. You can taste your love for him in the back of your throat, feel it sitting in a sticky film on your skin. It hangs like humidity in the air of your apartment. And jesus christ, it bleeds from Sam, glowing off him like fucking radiation.

When you’re shamelessly wailing gut-deep in ecstasy, Sam peels himself off you. He forces himself to sit up. His chest putters up and down with desperate little breaths, and a gloriously big hand scoops under your thigh and welds it against your chest. Whatever he sees from this new angle—probably your wet, abused pussy stretched tight around the full base of his cock—makes Sam gape, utterly transfixed. You watch as his mouth falls open, and then those dark, soul-swallowing eyes crawl up your body to meet yours.

“Keep lookin’ at me,” Sam rasps.

Even if he doesn’t sway your opinion with a few dizzying, stomach-deep drags of his cock, (which he does), you’re convinced. You lock eyes with him—and then suddenly feel stupid for not watching him the whole time. A long curl of hair hangs in his eyes and sways as he fucks into you. His expression flutters with these sinful little giveaways, exposing just how starved he is for you, how in love. Maybe if you’d looked back sometime in the past five years, that’s what you would’ve seen: how much this has always meant to him. He searches your face for the same pleasure, obsessed with his effect on you.

“Fuck,” you shudder out. “C-could cum just watchin’ you, Sammy.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, and you’ve never heard him sound so damn happy. “Cum for me. Please. Look so pretty when you do.”

Usually, when he makes you cum, it’s the roughest part of the whole act. He’d get both your wrists pretzeled behind your back and pinned viciously in one of his hands, and that’s when you’d know the big finish was coming. His pace would go from bouncing to bruising. But this Sam, your Sam, would stop time if he could, so he slows down even further, winding you closer and closer to the top of the mountain with little figure-eights of his hips. He gazes down at you the same way you’re sure you must gaze up at him. Beautiful, he murmurs under his breath.

You utter another, tight, almost-sob of, “love you so much, Sammy,” and his dick twitches wildly shoved in you to the hilt.

“Ohh—shit,” he chokes out, and his other hand snaps desperately towards yours on the bed. They find each other easily, and you squeeze his hand with everything you’ve got, infusing in him all the love he’s infused in you.

The slow, mounting tsunami of perfection you’ve been moving towards finally overcomes you, and in one long gorgeous slippery rush you cum for Sam. And because your life is a movie—he cums for you too. He rocks faster and falls forward to kiss you, your faces pressed together, your mouths slotting against each other, your pussy squeezing down on him in golden rippling strokes. Sam hisses your name out between his teeth as he cums. You’re lanced straight through by a whole fucking universe of fluttering, flickering pleasure. To be honest, you’re a little pissed about it—because it’s the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, and it’s all because Sam raggedly chants those words to you again and again, laying sloppy, obsessive, head-over-heel kisses all over your face. Love you love you so much baby you feel so good squeezin’ down on me.

You could’ve had this ages ago. How much more time could you have had with him, if you had just stopped being stupid?

Sam’s crazed, sobbing, hitching I love yous somehow become, in true Sam fashion, a low spiral of thank yous. He lays there and clutches you until there’s a Sam-shaped imprint in your body. You’re pretty sure he would stay inside you all night if he could, but you coax him into some cuddling instead, since you both are in desperate need. It’s. It’s new, but it feels cleansing in the holy way.

What feels like hours later, your brain dimly connects to the rest of your body. You’re halfway through detangling Sam’s hair with your fingers as he hides face-first in your chest, pretending he’s not embarrassed that he cried. At least, that’s what you assume. The Winchester mind is a mysterious one, and as much as you would hope to know what Sam’s thinking, the slow hand drawing circles on your hip tells you nothing. Is he shy that he got emotional? That seems silly, since you both sobbed into each other earlier. Is he embarrassed about everything he confessed? Does he regret it?

Just when your train of thought really starts to take the curves of your spiral hard, Sam tiredly croaks into your neck, “I meant what I said, y’know.”

He draws in a lungful of your perfume through his nose, soaking up as much of you as he can possibly get. His hands smooth over your body, innocent and loving, caressing you, memorizing you, begging silently for forgiveness.

Sam is a dead-silent crier. But you hear him sniffle as he gushes, “God, I love you.”

Maybe if you hadn’t been so tired, you would’ve picked up on it. Or maybe you’d heard it in his voice, seen it, something, and ignored it, hoping it was something else. Everything he felt, he put into a teeny, unmarked box that he’d bury god knows where, far from where anybody could be hurt by it. Sam didn’t—he wouldn’t say that to you. Not unless it was the last time he ever could. He would feel it, but it’d go right into that box where it couldn’t hurt you. You should’ve known.

Lie to me, you’d begged him.

…And Sam had.

The dull realization that you are awake sets in around noon. Noon as in after-noon, well past when you’re normally up and at em’. When you wonder why the hell you slept in so late, you remember last night’s rain, thrashing against the windows all night, and Sam, his face haloed by lamplight and bleeding with quiet resolution.

Sam. Alive, and not going to say yes.

He’d been the one to keep you up all night. With his mouth and his hands, yes, but then afterward he’d been hellbent on talking. Just… talking. You’d been sluggish and cozy and sated after having sex, but no matter how close you came to falling asleep, Sam wouldn’t let it happen. For two straight hours he asked you every question he could come up with to keep you up with him.

Do you remember when we met? Cause’ I do. Do you remember what I said to you? Do you remember what you thought about me? I remember thinking how similar we were, y’know, how much we’d get along. You were so pretty… my whole face went red every time you looked at me. Do you remember…?

Being cuddled, kissed, and protected by the man you love really tempts a girl to doze off, too, so this was not an easy battle. But Sam persisted. He studied your face intently, uttering I love yous even when sleep started to pull you under. Hearing any Winchester drop those words on you still blew your fucking mind, to be honest. Sam especially. But it was romantic as it was worrying, so you’d shut him up with a kiss goodnight and echoed it back to him. Love you, Sammy. It was probably just an anxiety thing, you assumed—Sam, for some fucking reason, was a pretty insecure guy, so you imagined that was his way of making sure you wanted all of this. He seemed… scared. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

The apocalypse was still on. Maybe the world would end tomorrow, or maybe you’d get lucky and live a whole lifetime with Sam. Regardless, he’s never saying yes to Lucifer, and that alone means that there’s still hope for the future. You’re going to spend every second of it making Sam feel wanted.

Sitting up in bed, you scrubbed at your sleepy face with the heel of your hand and stared around the room. Sam was physically incapable of staying asleep after five in the morning, so the familiar evidence of his military-efficient morning routine was all over the place. You smiled to yourself. He’d picked up after the two of you, and had tucked another blanket over you in your sleep. Stupid chivalrous dumbass.

To think, you’d been terrified you’d never see him again just last night.

You push out of bed, only to almost buckle onto the carpet rag-doll style. Even being torturously gentle, that man manages to make you sore. With a very, very happy groan, you hop (and wince) into some clean underwear, then traipse out into your kitchen to show that dork who’s boss.

“Dammit, Samuel, you’re not my maid—” you start to say, but of course, this is Sam, who wouldn’t miss a morning run for anything. Right. That explains your empty kitchen.

…But it’s afternoon. Sam would be back by now. Your gut prickles with a bad feeling, and you superstitiously sweep your apartment, looking for him. His clothes from last night are still sitting in your hamper, his shirt folded neatly in your dresser and his watch on your nightstand. A spike of nausea rolls through you seeing that his jacket is gone—and his boots. But his duffle—it’s. It’s still on your kitchen table. It looks a little smaller than usual, but his books and his laptop are still inside. He probably just ran out to run some silly errand for you, determined to make up for worrying you so much. Yeah.

You force your hunter’s paranoia down to a simmer, padding over to your breakfast table. There’s a big ol�� note smack dab in the center of it, perched on his half-open duffle bag, and you start to play with one of the bracelets Sam left behind as you pick it up.

You cross your fingers, smiling ear-to-ear. “C’mon. All bets on breakfast. Please be getting me breakfast, please be getting me breakfast—”

…That’s not what the note says.

You read it.

Then you read it again, and the hammer falls, crushing the breath out of you and doubling you over the kitchen table. You read the note for the third time, needing to be sure, and the thin sliver of hope you had—maybe you’d just read it wrong, m-maybe he was fine—turns to ash. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

You’re fighting back a surge of ugly, choking tears in an instant. He’s… Sam… he…

Your whole apartment lingers with the heat and goodness of him, like he’d been here just minutes ago. Just seconds. Even your clothes still smell like Sam. Just inhaling it tears chunks out of your reason, like—like you’d just missed him. Clawing around for something to do, you pace in a daze between your bedroom and the front door, desperate to recreate the moment you realized he was gone. You’re still just in the Stanford sweater and your underwear, but you don’t give a single shit and go careening out into the hall, stalking up and down your floor for him—because, b-because Sam wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to you—he would tell you first, he would never leave you in the dark like this—

…But you know Sam. And if it meant fixing his mistakes, saving you, saving everyone… Then he’d say yes in a heartbeat.

“These belong to you. You deserve a world to live in. I’m sorry - Sam.”

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1@lacilou@cevans-winchester @leigh70@ seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1

#uncouthspn #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #user uncouth #sam winchester x reader

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bunniekittiee · 6 months

Note

What do you think if Titan Bi-Han had returned to that MK1 timeline by chance and met his counterparts lover who remains with Kuai Liang and Tomas?? How would either react to seeing each other?? And what if he had lost her in his timeline?? Or something.

Bi-Han x Fem. Reader

Oh my goodness I love this so much! Seriously, you are all so creative! I tried to make this as sweet as possible! :,) Sorry if this is kind of short and abruptly ending, im doing my best to get through requests and also sleep off my sickness

It was never easy to come to terms with Bi-Han's betrayal. The night the brothers arrived to Liu Kang's temple without her husband, she thought the worst. Her heart was in her throat. The brothers held solemn looks as Kuai Liang gently told her that Bi-Han had betrayed them for Shang Tsung. He was never going to come back.

Her legs gave out on her as Kuai gripped her tighter, sobbing while she buried her face in his shoulder. The sounds of grief. How could he do this to them?

They were family. A somewhat happy family.

But that was never enough for Bi-Han. He always wanted something more.

Tomas and Kuai held her all night long while she cried. She cried like she was mourning Bi-Han, and in a way, she was. Mourning the Bi-Han she loved and cared for more than her own being. The Bi-Han that would never come back to her. It broke her, and everyday she reminisced about her life with him. How he would kiss the tip of her nose before he went to make plans, or how he would pull her in by her waist and softly sigh into her neck when he was behind closed doors. She missed him dearly.

As much as she wanted to be with Bi-Han, she could not leave her dear 'brothers' behind. Bi-Han had already abandoned them, they would be devastated if she left too. So she stayed. She was there when the Shirai Ryu first began their mission of protecting Earthrealm. She was there when Liu Kang had their swearing-in to take on the task that the Lin Kuei had abandoned. She was there with Kuai Liang and Harumi married each other. She was there when Hanzo Hasashi, not their Hanzo, invaded their timeline in search for a Harumi. She was there for many events after Bi-Han's betrayal, events that he was not there for.

Bi-Han never came back for her, and it made her depressed. Even though she would not leave the Shirai Ryu, it made her sorrowful that Bi-Han had forgotten all about her. In her locket, she still held a picture of him. Although his face was unsmiling, his features were softened. A look of love. She often looked at this photo, gently twirling the chain in her other hand. Sometimes she smiled at the picture, sometimes she stared at it sadly. She could never see the love of her life again, and she had to come to terms with that.

She often prepared their lunches and the boys were very thankful for that. She knew what their favorites were and how to make it correctly. Sometimes for lunch, they would all sit together and talk about old memories with the Lin Kuei. Often times, they were good memories. Ones that you could never forget.

However, by the end of the lunch hour, they would be sad. Sad that it had to be this way. And they hoped that maybe in other timelines, they were happy together. Without Bi-Han’s betrayal.

The morning was fresh yet cloudy and the smell of rain was beginning to clash with the smell of breakfast for the boys. They sat at the table as they sipped on tea and talked amongst each other. She cooked as quickly as she could so they could eat in enough time.

“What a depressing day.” Tomas sighed as he glanced out the window. “Sometimes days like this make me feel sad.”

“I understand, brother.” Kuai Liang replied with a small frown. “I like the sunshine.” They both looked at her.

She caught their glances. “I don’t mind it. Bi-Han always preferred rainy, depressing days. Even though most of the time it was snowing.”

Tomas snorted. “That’s about all we could get was snow.” They all giggled quietly as they resumed back to silence. Once breakfast was ready, she served them heaping amounts of food. As fit as the brothers were, they sure ate a lot. They definitely cleaned house when it came to food. But she didn’t mind. She enjoyed cooking very much as it made her feel helpful. Although she had duties to attend to, they were not significant like the brothers, so sometimes she felt like she was not doing enough. They always reassured her.

Scarfing down breakfast, they helped clean up their messes and said their goodbyes to start on their day. She sighed quietly as the door shut. As much as she wanted to stay inside all day, she knew she could not. When there were rainy days, Bi-Han insisted on her staying indoors and every once in a while, he would come home early to cuddle in bed. Kissing her neck and shoulder as he buried his head in her neck. Sometimes his hands trailed lower as he kissed parts of her body. Most of the time, that initiated a long night.

Shaking her head with a small smile, she took one last sip of her tea and began to start on her day. Most of the work was fairly easy. It was not that Kuai Liang believed she could not do hard work, he believed that she was one of them. So she deserved to have lighter duties. Their warriors had to prove themselves, Y/N did not have to prove anything.

After about two hours of working, she took a break to take in her surroundings. She breathed in the rainy air, feeling her lungs expand further. But in the distance, she saw a glowing light that pulsated. Tilting her head, she slowly got up until Tomas ran up to her.

“Get inside now!” He said firmly as he grabbed her.

“What’s going on?” She asked with worry.

“Just get inside please.” He replied as she began to make her way back inside her chambers. She was confused. What was happening? What was that light? There were many questions she had that could not be answered.

She waited, pacing around the room as she so badly wanted to go and see what was happening. Was it Bi-Han? Was it Shang Tsung? The possibilities were endless.

That was, until Tomas rapped his knuckles on her door once again. She opened it, immediately opening her mouth to ask a question but he grabbed her wrist again. “Come with me. There is something to show you.” He looked excited. Her brain ran a million miles per hour as he lead her to the temple. She was confused why Tomas looked so happy.

That was, until she saw who was standing in front of them.

Wearing a lighter blue uniform with clean, black locks secured in a bun and his face softened, was Bi-Han talking to Kuai Liang. Her world began to spin as she stared at him. He did not look angry or upset. He looked content. That was an emotion he had hardly shown unless he was secured in his own home. His eyes were not hardened. They were gentle. His eyes swept over to her figure and they locked eyes, his own widening at the sight of her.

“My firefly…” he said breathlessly as he began to quickly approach you. She felt herself begin to tear up as he engulfed her in a bear hug.

“Bi-Han.” She croaked as her tears fell from her face. “Is it truly you?”

He pulled his face away to look at her. “I am not the Bi-Han of this timeline, but I am still him.” His eyes were full of love and joy. She felt her heart slightly sink. “Then who are you?”

Sighing as he pulled away, he began to explain the history of his timeline. Where Bi-Han was never that hard on his brothers. Where he loved them both and never tried to shun Smoke. Where he did not kill their father. Where he did not betray them and pull away from Liu Kang.

But as he continued his story, his face began to fall. “However, when Shang Tsung came to fight with us, it costed much more than I anticipated. And he,” he looked as if he was struggling. “He took you away from me. He killed you.”

Taking his hands within her own, she looked at him. “I am truly sorry for that. We both lost our significant others it seems.”

He hugged her again. “I am happy to be reunited, even if it is for a moment. My beautiful girl.” Her heart swelled up hearing those words slip past Titan Bi-Han’s lips and her eyes watered once more. He was so sweet. It was a little surprising to see him this affectionate in front of his ‘siblings’, but she had to remind herself that this was a different Bi-Han. Which meant he was raised somewhat differently. He wasn’t the same as her Bi-Han, but they were sure alike.

All three of them spent the day with him, ignoring their duties as they relished in their happiness. Kuai Liang was standoffish at first, but he warmed up quickly to Titan Bi-Han. How could he not? This Bi-Han was so much more affectionate and friendly compared to their Bi-Han that they had grown accustomed to. The coldness was replaced with warmth.

He was so sweet, always complimenting Tomas and his fighting skills as they all trained the ninjas together. Tomas felt his heart swell with every compliment Bi-Han had given him. This Bi-Han was so much more pleasant. It was as if Kuai Liang had possessed the form of Bi-Han.

Their day together had been an eye opener for Bi-Han’s family. They realized how much they missed out on with their Bi-Han. How much he took away from them. They wished to have this one in their timeline, but they knew he could not stay forever.

Eventually, the brothers said goodbye and let her be with her ‘husband’. They figured they both needed the time to be with each other.

“My beloved,” Titan Bi-Han said as they closed the door to her chambers. “I have missed you for an eternity.”

Leaning into his embrace, she gently kissed him on his lips as they laid onto the bed. Bi-Han caressed her face with one hand while the other held her hip. His kisses were cold but the way he held her radiated warming love. He pulled away from her and rested his forehead against her, his dark brown eyes looking into hers. “I don’t want to lose you again.” He whispered. “I don’t want to leave you.”

She felt her eyes water again for about the hundredth time today and he wiped them away with his thumbs. “Do not cry, my firefly. I will always be around.”

“I wish I had him… you back. I wish I had you back, Bi-Han.” She said quietly as he laid a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“I am here for now, my love.” He replied as he kissed her again. “Live in the moment, it’s okay.”

She wondered if it was considered adultery for making love with Bi-Han’s Titan counterpart, but she reasoned with herself in her head. He was slow and passionate, always giving her kisses and soft touches down her body as he became one with her. It was as if their souls were colliding and becoming one within each other. It was sensual. She had not made love with Bi-Han for a very long time, let alone another man.

He held her all throughout the night as their bodies intertwined with one another, basking in their warmth and adoration. He did not want to let her go. She was just with him for a moment, and he didn’t want to let it slip past his fingertips. But he knew he had to leave. But for now, he could enjoy his time that he had with her for now.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 2023 #mk 1 2023 #mk 1 #mk1 #mk bi han #mk kuai liang #mk tomas vrbada #mk sub zero #mk scorpion #mk smoke #mk1 bi han #mk1 kuai liang #mk1 tomas vrbada #scorpion mk1 #bi han sub zero #sub zero x reader #sub zero

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i9messi · 10 months

Text

Dating Lando Norris

Specific things I think Lando would do as your boyfriend.

lando's masterlist

At the beginning, he was very very shy around you

He fell the moment he saw you

Lando couldn’t help but fall in love with you

For him, you were the prettiest girl he'd ever met

Not only that, you were someone interesting

He was interested in everything you liked

Your answers were recorded in his brain, as a constant reminder of what you adored

Pays attention to the details

One day you mentioned that there was a restaurant that you always wanted to go, except that you had never been able to go because you need to book at least a year and a half in advance

Just a week later, Lando took you to that same restaurant

It was your first date

"Lando, everything is so beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you are."

He gives golden retriever energy, you know

You fell in love with Lando too fast, I mean, how could you not? He was practically the man you’d always dreamed of

Someone attentive, charismatic and with a dose of sassiness

Sunshine boyfriend

He loved to whisper sassy things in your ear

Things that make you blush

Let's not repeat those things please

Your dates were too diverse, you could go to expensive restaurants or you could also stay at home, with the lights of the candles and show each other how much you loved each other

"I love to spend time with you, the world outside doesn't exist anymore. I'm only interested in you, in everything you do or don't do."

One of your favorite dates had been when after a thunderstorm, you had run out of light

With the sound of the rain, both had been hugging and looking out the window, hearing the drops fall on the glass

"I love you, I'm so in love with you that I can't hide it anymore."

That day was the first time he told you he loved you

You just smiled, kissing him on the lips a second later

The time you told him you loved him too, he was actually trying his best not to freak out. He smiled at you softly as if he didn’t almost explode from all the excitement

One of your favorite places was his chest

You could spend all your day laying on the couch with your head above his chest and listen to him speak with that accent that drove you crazy

Lando could bring any topic and it would be the most interesting thing in the world for you

He is the kind of dedicated boyfriend who loves to spoil you and make you happy

Brings gifts from his trips

"This reminded me of you, you once said you wanted one."

Takes pictures of you on any occasion, doing mundane things

"You look so pretty baby, stay still."

His camera roll was full of pictures of you

As his social media

He loved to post pictures of you in his instagram

He was a proud boyfriend, posting things in every occasion he had

I already mentioned he gives me golden retriever energy???

Well, he always find a way to talk about you

All of his friends and other drivers are annoyed of him talking about you

"My girlfriend likes that too." or "My girlfriend said..." He always finds an opportunity to mention you, no matter if it’s about something as stupidly as the weather or the sun, you’re important to him

He likes to ride in his car with you, holding your hand

He loves to hold your hand, in any occasion

He loves your touch

No, he needs your touch

Sometimes he's a little shy, but he is definitely into PDA

You're his girlfriend and he's not ashamed of admitting his love

He kisses you before races

You're his lucky charm

He loves you A LOT

#lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris one shot #lando norris one shots #lando norris imagine #f1 one shot #f1 x you #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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hwaslayer · 2 months

Text

project: make you love me (jyh) | seventeen.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 3.4k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, flashback scene btwn yuyu & oc, anxiety & overthinking, some crying, [very soft and lazy] unprotected makeup sex <33

Yunho sighs as he pours some hot water into his cup, dipping the tea bag into the scorching hot water a few times before letting it settle. He stands near the balcony door of the apartment, blinds raised so he can watch the rain and wind from inside.

"Jeez, it's fucking crazy outside." Yunho turns over his shoulder to Yeosang, who is getting ready to make some ramen. "And it's freezing."

"Yeah, it is. Such a random storm." Yunho sips on his tea.

"Why are you acting like such an old man right now?" Yunho lets out a chuckle at the remark. "Have you talked to Y/N?"

"No, not yet." He sighs, making his way to the kitchen island to talk to Yeosang more closely.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I was gonna ask her to come over but it's raining like crazy. I'll probably wait till it dies down."

"Your hand doing okay?" Yeosang nods at his hand, making Yunho flash it his way. "Hm. Bruising has gone down. He deserved that shit."

"Tell me about it."

"Well, not to play devil's advocate at the wrong time, but I truly don't think Y/N meant to hurt you."

"I know. I just—" He sighs again and shakes his head. "He pissed me off. I didn't wanna take it out on her. Truthfully, I wasn't really over it until.. probably this morning." Yunho shrugs.

"Yeah, I get that."

"It's not her. It's him. Fucking can't stand him. I hope he gets the picture now because I'm not going anywhere."

"And you shouldn't. He'd be stupid to keep testing you. I'm sure that was more than enough for him to realize."

"Yeah, I don't know. Whatever. Just keep him the fuck away from me." Yunho subtly rolls his eyes. "I miss her, though. I know she wouldn't do anything to hurt me."

"She's a good person. It's very clear she feels the same exact way for you as you do for her." Yunho traces the rim of his cup, missing your kisses and your company terribly, even though it's really only been a full day since you two last talked.

"I really love that girl." He lets out a small chuckle. "Like.. really love her."

"Cute." Yeosang smiles as he pours the hot water into his ramen cup. "You finally gonna say it to her once you two talk?"

"Probably, yeah." He looks at Yeosang. "It's crazy to me. I wasn't expecting anything out of this when I started helping her with her lit assignments. Now, I can't even picture my days without her."

"You should text her."

"I will, once the weather calms down a bit."

"What do your plans with her look like after graduation?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I mean, obviously, I'll always be here to support her and I'll try to stay close as much as possible. But, eventually, I do wanna settle in a job and make enough for us to move in together."

"Wow, really?" Yunho nods. "You see your life with her?"

"Does it sound weird to say that?"

"No, not at all."

"I just wanna be able to come home to her and spend time with her." Yunho sips his tea, the sound of the harsh wind and tree branches hitting the window slightly startling the both of them.

"Damn. Yeah, probably good to just wait until the weather settles down." Yeosang flips the lid to his ramen and starts stirring the noodles around. "Wanna hop on a game?"

"Yeah, sure." Yunho chuckles, standing to make his way to his room and play for a bit.

Meanwhile, you've tossed and turned on your bed, unsure of what to do with yourself for the day. Chaery sat at her desk, studying with her headphones on; prepping for a big test coming up in the following week. It was probably the third [or fourth] time you've scrolled through your phone in the past 5 minutes, finding ways to distract yourself even though you were only waiting to see if Yunho would text.

He didn't though.

The last text he sent was his response to you yesterday morning after the whole squabble with Seonghwa, a quick little—

you: goodmorning yunho, have a good day today 💕

yunho: you too, y/n.

The dry, sad response is enough to trigger that awful feeling in your stomach— enough for you to toss your phone and lay on your side, hoping everything could just wash over and pass.

♣︎ FLASHBACK

"Have you seen Yunho today?" You shake your head.

"No. I feel like he's just avoiding me right now." You say with your head hung low.

"Babe, he's not avoiding you. You're his girlfriend."

"Then, why does it feel that way? Usually he'd try to come see me and send me off before class or something. He hasn't even texted me after I said 'good morning' and 'have a good day.'"

"Maybe he really just needs time to get over it, Y/N." Chaery adds as you two continue to walk towards the library. "I mean.. think about it. He stumbled upon you two and suddenly found himself in a fight with your crazy ex-fling. Plus, this was also his way of finding out about the bouquet. It's probably so overwhelming and frustrating, mainly because of Seonghwa. I get him. I wouldn't wanna talk to my girlfriend while I'm still upset because I know I'd probably say things I'd regret."

"Mmyeah.." Is all you say. The moment you take the last few steps up to the library, Yunho is exiting and comes through the door. You stop in your tracks as your eyes land on him, a sad, sympathetic look captured on your face.

You are so, so beautiful. Yunho feels like you'll be the death of him one day.

He almost makes it visibly known how much you've caught him off guard. He swallows the lump in his throat and walks over— one hand in his pant pocket, the other hanging onto the backpack strap.

"Hey." Is all he says before giving you a one-armed [tight] hug.

"Hey babe."

"Yuyu, my favorite person in the entire planet!" Chaery gives him a playful little punch on the arm, making him chuckle. "Y/N, I'll wait for you inside, okay?" She gives you a reassuring smile before leaving you and Yunho.

"Off to class?" You stupidly ask already knowing his schedule, but he nods anyway.

"Yeah. Did you sleep okay?" He brushes the hair away from your face.

"I don't know."

"Yeah, same." He sighs.

"Should we talk then?"

"Not now." He doesn't mean to sound mean or dismissive, but he truly doesn't think he has it in him to talk properly about this yet. "Just not ready to yet. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I understand." You feel the tears well up in your eyes, causing you to shift your attention elsewhere to prevent them from falling.

"Hey." Yunho pulls you in for a hug. "We'll talk about it soon. Promise." He kisses the top of your head before letting you go. "Have a good rest of your day, okay?"

"You too." You give him a small, tight-lipped smile before watching him walk past you to his next class— your heart dropping, cracks slowly breaking at the surface.

You missed him, and you were only hoping it'd get better from here. You were ready to move past this.

All of this.

♣︎ END

Your bottom lip trembles as you stand and throw on Yunho's hoodie, slipping the hood over your head before wiping away at the residual tears streaming down your cheeks. You understood Yunho needed time, but you couldn't wait another day of not talking to him.

Not hugging him.

Cuddling him.

Kissing him.

You missed Yunho, and you were afraid he was realizing he didn't feel the same— that maybe, this was the way it would all slowly fizzle out. That maybe, this didn't turn out to be what he expected or wanted. Every minute you continued to overthink made you more and more anxious. You couldn't sit this one out anymore. Not any longer.

"Babe, where are you going?" You pop into the room after a quick bathroom break, fixing your pajamas onto the edge of your bed while Chaery continues to sit at her desk. "It's literally storming outside."

"I need to talk to Yunho." She looks at you worriedly, turning her chair towards you completely.

"Love. I know. I know you wanna talk to him, but don't you think you should wait until the storm passes?"

"It's just across the lot."

"Still. It's kinda crazy out there."

"Chaery, I need to talk to him. I can't let another day pass. I won't." You murmur as you grab a pair of sneakers. "I'll be back, okay?" She sighs.

"Just be careful, please. I really don't want you to get sick or anything."

"I know. I'll be careful." You give her a tiny smile before heading towards the door.

"Um, please tell me you aren't actually going out there right now?" Seungmin asks with a brow cocked up as he stands in the kitchen. You slip into your shoes and slightly tilt your head, meeting his gaze.

"I really need to talk to Yunho."

"Do you want me to walk you over there? It's super windy and raining like crazy."

"It's okay."

"Sure? Take an umbrella."

"I'll run over."

"Please don't get sick. I seriously can walk you over just to be your umbrella dude."

"I promise I'll be okay, Seungmo. Thank you. I'll be fast as lightning speed."

"Alright. Be safe. I hope it goes well. I'm sure he misses you, too." You give him a small smile before heading out. As soon as you head out of the front door, the gusty wind hits you, along with the rain slapping you along the side of your face. You pull Yunho's hood a little more over your head, clinching it at the neck to keep it tight. No matter what you do, or how fast you run to his building, you're still being rained on like crazy.

Yunho's hoodie and your sweats are soaked, and you hate the feeling of damp clothes against your skin. But, you needed to do this.

You needed to see him.

You shakily bring your phone up to your ear after dialing his number, sweater paws wiping away at your nose and cheeks.

"Y/N?"

"Yunho."

"You okay?"

"I'm outside your door."

"You're what? Why did you come here when it's storming like shit outside?" You can hear him shuffling towards the door, hands quick to unlock it. He sees you and his heart instantly shatters into pieces. You're in his hoodie, wet from the rain; random strands of hair sticking to your face. Your grey sweats have traces of the rain scattered on all sides, and god, Yunho wants to embrace you and hold you so badly. "Y/N." He says, almost disappointingly as he grabs at your hand to bring you inside. "Why would you do that?"

"I had to see you and talk to you." You look at him, bottom lip trembling again as you hold back your tears. He clicks his teeth before leading you into the room. He quickly grabs a change of clothes for you before handing it over and nodding towards the bathroom.

"You should get comfy first." You silently nod, taking the clothes in your hands before waddling to the bathroom. You strip out of his clothes and hop into the shower for a quick wash-up, his freshly laundered clothes feeling good against your skin afterwards.

When you get into Yunho's room, he's slouched on his computer chair while pressing away on the controller resting against his lap. He turns towards you when he hears you drop the clothes into his hamper, pausing his current game and setting the controller aside.

"Hope you don't mind me throwing those into your hamper."

"Course not." He sits on the edge on his bed, watching as you sit next to him. "What's going on?"

"Yunho, I'm really sorry. I know you needed time and everything, but I couldn't stand us not talking to each other and being awkward after everything. It's my fault. I should've just told you about them in the first place, I don't know why I hesitated." You're crying now, and Yunho melts. He knows you're sincerely sorry, and he knows you would never intentionally hurt him. Truly, he meant to take this time just to let his anger for Seonghwa pass. He didn't wanna let that bleed onto you, nor did you deserve that, so he wanted to make sure he was completely over it before anything. He was gonna text you today and ask you to come over, but he waited because of the rain. He should've known you wouldn't have cared, though. "It was so, so stupid. But, I didn't mean any of it. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry, I—" You continue to go on through your crying, but Yunho gently shushes you and pulls you onto his lap.

"Hey, come here. Don't cry. It's okay."

"No, it's not." You pout.

"Baby." He gives off a tiny chuckle before wiping your tears and kissing your forehead. "I know you're sorry, okay? I really just needed the time to make sure I was over it. I didn't want to accidentally take out my anger on you or do anything stupid when you don't deserve it. That's all. I was gonna ask you to come by today, but it started raining." He lets out a breath. "Should've known you wouldn't have cared though, hm?" You shake your head. "No more crying."

"I just want us to be okay. I didn't mean to hurt you, Yuyu."

"I know you didn't. We're okay. I'm not upset with you."

"Are you sure?" He pauses just as he looks at you, thumb coming to caress the surface of your cheek before coming down to your bottom lip.

"Well, why don't you just be mine, hm? Just like I am for you. How does that sound?"

"Wouldn't want it any other way." Yunho chuckles and kisses you on the tip of your nose. You instantly wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tightly while still on his lap, taking in all of him while he gently rubs at your back. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." Your hands are resting at the nape of his neck, fingers gently threading through the ends of his hair. Yunho's hands are slowly rubbing at your sides, the warmth of his hands transferring onto the surface of your bare skin.

"Can I see your hand?" He chuckles a bit and raises his hand in front of you, knuckles still slightly reddish-purple in hue from the punch.

"It's fine." You give him a look before planting soft kisses at his knuckles, turning his palm upward to place some kisses there.

"Yunho?"

"Mhm?"

"I love you." His eyes widen a bit as his mind registers what you just said. His lips turn upward into a smile, planting a chaste kiss to yours before responding with a—

"I love you too, baby." He kisses you again, smiling against your lips. "Can you promise me one other thing?"

"Hm?"

"Please don't trek over here when it's raining like this outside. I don't want you to get sick."

"It's just across the lot."

"Promise me." He furrows his brows ever so slightly to get his point across.

"Fine." You pout.

"Say it."

"I promise." You say in a somewhat whiny tone, making Yunho let out a small laugh.

"You're such a brat."

"Mm, but you just said you love this brat."

"Yeah." He bites onto his bottom lip. "I do. I really do." You giggle, kissing him once more. Though Yunho has always been affectionate and vocal about his feelings for you, his next action is unexpected and catches you a bit off guard. He simply rests his head against your chest and holds you tightly, breathing regularly as his fingers gently rub circles on your sides. He doesn't say anything, causing you to look down at him and wonder if he's truly okay.

"What's wrong?" You ask while wrapping your arms around him, fingers massaging at his scalp.

"I just want you to be honest with me. I don't want you to feel scared about coming to me about these things because I'm with you, not against you." He responds softly, cheek still pressed against your chest. "That goes to say that I would never do anything to jeopardize this. I don't wanna lose you." He looks up at you with those puppy dog eyes and you can't help but release a shaky sigh. Your lips fold into a small frown as you cup his cheek, shaking your head at the statement.

"You could never do anything to jeopardize this, Yunho. I'm not going anywhere. This was my fault, and I'm sorry for not coming to you sooner about this. I promise I'll be better. I know you're here for me, and I know you would never do anything to hurt me either."

"Can you tell me? Honestly. Do you miss anything about Seonghwa?"

"No, I could never. It was so stupid and I didn't mean to mislead or confuse you. I could never go back to that. I don't want to. All I want is you."

"Okay." Is all he responds with. "I feel the same way. You mean a lot to me, Y/N. I mean that more than anything."

"I know, Yunho. I feel the same way." He gives you a tiny, toothless smile before releasing his arms from around you.

"Wanna lay down and take a nap with me?"

"That sounds really nice right now." You smile as you hop off his lap and settle into the sheets. Yunho shuts off his computer, the only sounds echoing in the room is the strong wind hitting the window, rain splattering against the glass. He slips under the covers, pulling you close to him to keep you warm. His fingers start threading through your hair as you quietly look up at him; no words being exchanged in this very moment.

"Sleepy?" Yunho breaks the silence with a soft question.

"No. I just like it when you play with my hair." You shut your eyes in satisfaction.

"Of course." Yunho kisses your forehead before moving down to the tip of your nose.

Lips.

Chin.

"I thought you wanted to nap?" You subtly bite onto your bottom lip when Yunho leaves sweet kisses on the edge of your jaw and neck.

"I do." He says in between kisses, tongue soothing the surface of your neck after little nibbles.

"This doesn't look like a nap to me."

"No, but we'll definitely take one after." He smirks against your skin, hands roaming up your shirt. He squeezes your side before his hand moves up to your breast— playing with your nipple before giving your boob a good grope.

"Yunho." You whine, hands tugging at the ends of his hair. Sooner or later, you find yourself straddling Yunho— lazily working your hips while he lays back and watches you. Everything about this moment is slow, sweet, sensual; every kiss, every move, filled with love and affection. He bites onto his bottom lip as his hands rest on your hip, fingers slightly digging into the surface as he helps guide you. You've still got his shirt on, and he's still got his, too— sweats pulled down enough to ride him. It's so lazy, but so intimate, especially with the storm in the background.

It feels perfect and enough.

You let out soft moans and whimpers, Yunho whispering sweet praises about how good you feel and how perfect you are. He never fails to remind you how beautiful you are and how much you mean to him, even in the most compromising positions. But his words drip with gold, low groans and hisses dipped in honey.

Everything about Yunho is so, so sweet.

"Fuck." You whimper, brows pulled together as your mouth is slacked open— orgasm quick to build, close to toppling over on the edge.

"That's it, baby." Yunho replies as he tries his hardest to hold on. "Wanna cum for me?" You nod, pace increasing just enough to make you come undone in the next few rolls of the hips. You let out a few curses in between moans, while Yunho continues to pound upward into you to find his own release.

"That was definitely not a nap, Yunho." You continue to sit on top of him to regulate your breathing and come back down from your high.

"Ah, no. But, that nap does sound nice now, doesn't it?" You giggle when he taps your hips, the both of you letting out small whines when you finally pull your bodies apart from each other. He grabs some wipes and helps you clean up before following suit on himself, slipping back into the covers for said nap.

"Yunho."

"That's me." He says, eyes already shut as he holds you close.

"I love you. And I'm sorry. I wanna keep doing better for you."

"I love you, too. Don't be sorry. We're learning together, princess." He lets out a breath before kissing you on the forehead. "Come on, let's take a nap. It's not like we can go anywhere anyways." You chuckle against his chest, feeling happy and content that all is well; that you're finally in his Yunho's arms again.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk @kunikku @idkwgoh @kyeos4ng @agust-d2 @araknoid @bintificreads @primoppang @betray-the-light @aurorasjoongie @wineyoungie @yunhotteokkk @yungigiggles @jaerisdiction @ignoretheskies @luminouskalopsia @naeviscall @vixensss @choisansplushie @arya9111 @my-lightspirit @dazednconfusion @astro-doll-the-star @faesmingi @idfkeddieishot @startinystay @emily505 @mgdixon @mcsalterego @cheynalexilaiho @svintsandghosts @mismatchfluffysocks @meeitany

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ophelieverse · 28 days

Note

Oppy my baby,can you please please please take in consideration to write something about my man Cregan Stark?🥺🥺

⊹˚₊only you could have called me back home

Cregan Stark x fem!reader

-Summary:reader is from house Manderly and she meets Cregan when they are kids,during his stay at her house she reads him a book about mermaids to help him sleep during a storm.Years later he does the same thing for their children.

-I finally gave in and decided to try.This is the first time that I write for Cregan,even though i love him very much and i can’t wait to see him(I pictured in my mind Tom Taylor)so forgive me if this sucks.

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It was night,late evening.

The sky,which was usually a dark blue,was covered by a thick blanket of gray clouds that made the stars and that moon disappear,which were supposed to illuminate New Castle of White Harbor.The blue blazon with the green merman holding a trident,symbolizing House Manderly,was dancing in the wind.

A little girl,who seemed to be not older than eight years old,was observing the world and that summer storm,one of many she had seen in just a month.Sitting in her chamber,on the carpet in front of the window that brought into that small balcony,curled up and with her arms hugging her legs,she let her eyes get lost in counting the thousands of droplets that rested on that sheet of glass.

She began to stare at a drop of rain,trying to see it flow along the entire length of the window.But this one soon disappeared,bursting into smaller droplets or joining others.

For Lady Y/n Manderly,the rain made everything so fascinating.

She came closer to the glass,almost squashing her face against the door-windows and waiting for a thunder to arrive.She had never been afraid of thunderstorms,quite the contrary.She found them fascinating.She still couldn't conceive that all that noise and lights came from nature and not from something created by men.

Watching a thunderstorm was more interesting than reading a book.Her mother used to read her dozen of them to help her sleep at night,especially during storms like this one.But at the end,the books in their library all looked alike and never change final.If she didn't want to read them anymore she could just close them.While thunderstorms are unexpected and uncontrollable.But above all,always different.

People can never predict the duration or intensity of a thunderstorm.You can just try to guess or stay and observe it.And Y/n loved to see thunderstorms.

But that wasn't the case for everyone.

The little girl knew for sure that there was someone who instead hated them and had a big fear of them.A young boy,just of two years older than she was,the son of the protector of the North,had revealed that he was very afraid of storms during one.

Lord Rickon Stark had arrived to White Harbor four nights before,just in time for dinner,to discuss with Lord Desmond Manderly,Y/n father,about the union of their houses.A calm but still noisy storm was what welcomed them,alongside the blue and green blazon of New Castle.

Y/n didn't understand what was scary about those lights and noises,but she couldn't help but think about what the boy was feeling at the time.

That boy who was also her husband to be once they would be old enough to marry.They already knew each other,they had met in different occasions and places,yet they had never forged a particular bond or friendship.

Their characters were particularly different and they both knew that they would find themselves colliding easily if they became friends.Moreover, there had never been a particular opportunity to get to know each other better.They were always surrounded by their families,politicians and maidens.

They were simply two children,two heirs of big and powerful houses and one day they will become husband and wife.Nothing more,nothing less.

And yet,at that moment Y/n was just thinking.She was just thinking about Cregan.That was his name and what he had told her to call him when she had addressed him as “Lord Stark” with a polite bow.

Y/n wondered if he wasn't scared.

She remembered once,when there was a tournament in Lannisport,he didn’t showed up to see the horses in the morning when it started to rain.Once again,during a visit a the Wall he had been more restless than usual when he had heard the sound of the thunders.

But didn't the dark sky of the evening emphasize the whole thing even more?

Y/n loved night thunderstorms,she found them even more impressive.But also scary.Especially now that her mother was heavily pregnant and needed to stay in bed to rest,meaning that she couldn’t read her stories to help her sleep better.

In Y/n that fear gave a sudden adrenaline rush,but in Cregan no,she could have said it with certainty.So,after thinking about it for too long,the little girl got up,took the cloak on the chair and without even thinking anymore,she opened the window-door wide and within seconds she found herself on the balcony,while the rain was beginning to increase slowly.

That wing of the castle was where both Y/n and her brothers chambers were,the same place where young Cregan was staying,in the room right next to hers.

Y/n stayed for a while to observe the sky,and the drops of rainwater falling on the palm of her hand that she had turned upwards,fascinated by everything as a child could be.But she hadn't gone out to the balcony to admire all that,no.

If she had only wanted to do that,she would have been content to sit in front of the front door-windows as she had until then,instead of getting wet.

No,Y/n had gone out to check on Cregan.To make sure that he was alright.

Their balconies were connected,divided only by a low wall of light bricks.She had often seen the young boy on that balcony in those days,watching people occupying those crowded streets or just wanting to breathe some air.

And on those occasions they had just waved to each other politely with kind smiles.

Y/n knew that the window on that balcony led to the room where Cregan was staying.

Still in the rain,half protected by the windowsill of the upper floor,she barely reached out her neck to observe the young boy room.But it was dark and the curtains were pulled,a sign that Cregan was probably already sleeping,as he would on any night.

The little Lady wanted to call herself a fool for coming out of her room just to make sure that he was okay,a boy whose she exchanged a few words and nothing else.The same boy that one day would have been her husband but the she didn’t knew nothing about.

Yet,in some way,she was relieved.Relieved that he was not awake yet and afraid of those thunders.

A part of Y/n wanted to go back into her room and go back admiring that storm from behind the glass plate of the window,but first she got closer to the wall that separated her from her neighbor.

To,she said to herself,just to check more closely.Just to make sure.

But check what exactly?

Y/n shook her head.She really had to be out of her mind if now she was worried about an almost - stranger that seemed to not like her at all.She made to retrace her steps,when a curled figure caught her attention.

Sitting on the ground,with his shoulders leaning against the wall of that balcony and with a black cloak on him,he stood with his head hidden by the hood.Still like a statue,with his arms around his legs.Half of his body was protected under the windowsill,while the other half was being wet by that rainwater.

Y/n tilted her head to the side,confused.

“Who is that?And what are they doing?”she wondered.

Even though she knew very well who it was.It couldn't be anyone other than him.

«Cregan?»Y/n spoke without having the slightest control over her voice,attracting the attention of the boy.

Cregan raised his head,which he had kept sunk between his legs until that moment,turning his head then towards the young lady on the other side of the wall.His eyes were usually clear and calm,but now they were wide open with astonishment.

Wide in a way that Y/n couldn't but find adorable.

She ignored these thoughts and just reopened her mouth«What are you doing out here?Don't you see .. ?It's raining.»she asked with a soft tone.

“As if i hadn't noticed,Y/n”Cregan wanted to tell her with a little voice.He wouldn't have put on his cloak if he hadn't seen the rain.

But a part of him decided to keep his mouth closed.Lady Y/n was immensely pretty under the pale moonlight and wet by the rain.He had always been fascinated by her,by the way her eyes shined bright and the way she talked fast about something she liked and knew about.She made him nervous to speak whenever he was around her,she was far smarter and wiser than him even at that young age,always so kind and he was afraid to make a fool out of himself.Especially when he was still scared of thunderstorms.

Cregan didn't answer,just staring at her with his big blue eyes.

«Are you hurt?»Y/n brown furrow as she scanned his pale face to find something.

The rain kept falling and it seemed that its intensity continued to increase as the seconds passed.The trees in front of that castle moved to the right and left,driven by a force they already knew,but which they were still unable to repel.

Cregan shook his head and then spoke«I'm scared of thunderstorms.»he just said.

Y/n nodded«I know that.But why are you outside?»she offered him a kind smile.

Cregan seemed to think about it for a while, undecided whether to say everything to her or keep shut up.But there was something in her,something that was pulling in from the inside.Something that was screaming at him to tell her everything that he was afraid of,because with her it would be safe,she would have kept him safe.She would’ve understood him and comforted him.

He chose the second option and returned to stare at an indefinite point of his cloak,hoping that the young lady with wet hair and sweet eyes would soon leave,leaving him alone.As he had only been until recently.

One day Cregan would have been Lord Stark,protector of the great North and he needed to learn to not be afraid of thunderstorms on his own.But Y/n presence,the little girl that would become his wife,was louder than any thunder and brighter than any light.

In fact she had no intention of leaving.

«I'm scared of thunderstorms.»he found himself repeating and then adding«I really can't stand them.»he murmured.

She listened to him carefully,standing in front of that little wall,while Cregan continued to turn his back on her and look down as he spoke again:

«I can't sleep when there are thunderstorms.And being alone in the room,in the dark with only sudden flashes to illuminate,is scary.»he explained quietly.

Y/n nodded sympathetically,although she didn't find anything scary at all in his description.But for once she tried to put herself on Cregan side.

«So why don't you go to your father?My mother always makes me sleep with her when I have nightmares.»she asked with curiosity.

Cregan shook his head,clutching in that heavy cloak«He doesn’t want to.He say I have to overcome my fears sooner or later.»he said,with a glint of sadness in his eyes.

Y/n curled her nose,confused«And do you get over them by standing in the rain?»squeezing her hands to create a little bit of warmth.

This time he took some time to respond.

Then,shifting his gaze towards the horizon«It's less scary.I can see the lights of the villages and the boats passing by and I know I'm not the only one awake.I know I'm not alone.»he found himself admitting«It's less scary.Or at least I think…»

He didn't know why he was saying these things.Especially to her.For all his ten almost eleven years he had carried that fear of his with him without saying anything to anyone.Revealing his fear only to himself.And seeking comfort only in him.

A comfort that most of the time was not enough.

His father kept telling him that he was grown up by now,that he had to overcome his fear of thunderstorms by now.A fear that was too childish for his age.For the Lord he was destined to be.How could he protect people when he was the first to be scared?He needed to start acting like a man.

But how adult can a ten year old be?

Without meditating on his words,Y/n replied«And are you going to stay out here all night?Until the thunderstorm stops?»her angel face was worried.

Cregan just nodded,without staring at her directly in the eyes.The little girl made a grimace that the other could not see.It was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.Yet she still didn't find the strength to leave him alone.Leave him there alone and go back to her room.

Y/n had felt,she had felt for a few seconds,almost a perceptible thread that drew her to Cregan.Maybe she was just imagining everything. Maybe it was just her childish mind that was playing tricks on her.Or maybe it was just that summer storm fault.

She didn't know,but now she felt tied to the boy with the dark cloak and blue eyes.

«Come.»Y/n voice was firm and warm.

Cregan jolted,surprised to still hear the young girl voice.He thought she had returned to the heat of her room by now.And instead there she is,on the other side of the low wall,reaching out to him with a pure smile on her face.

“She’s cute when she smiles.”Cregan immediately thought,noticing her soft eyes and all her teeth shining in the light of the torches in the street.

He also found her so reassuring.That kind of safety that he desperately needed.

«Where?»he asked confused.

Y/n smiled at him again,getting closer and reaching out her hand again,almost touching his face making him shiver.

«If you spend the night out here you're going to get sick.If you don't want to be alone,I'll keep you company.»she stated fiercely and he knew nothing would’ve changed her mind.

They were simple words.Words of a child of eight,almost nine,years old.Yet Cregan swore he had never heard such beautiful words.No one had ever given him such attention and didn't know whether or not to trust that young lady.

They had met numerous times and now they were even betrothed to each other,but they weren’t exactly friends.

And Cregan was very skeptical to those he knew very little.Especially the ones that made him feel nervous just by looking at him.

He decided to refuse Y/n invitation.

But when he made to decline the offer,the first of many flashes lit up the sky,followed by a noise so loud that raised Cregan hair,or more commonly called thunder.

The boy snapped to his feet in fear.Perhaps the idea of going out,so as not to stay in the dark of his room,had not been the best.Or maybe it was the worst idea that had ever occurred to him and only now did he find it stupid.

«So?Are you coming or not?»Y/n called for his attention again,noting the thin veil of blush on his pale cheeks.

She was younger than him by only two years,yet she was still more mature than him.She had this aura surrounding her,of someone that would have took care of him.Someone he could really start to trust and lay down his strength.A little sun,personal and only for him,to remind him that the storms he was so afraid of were only temporary while she would have been by his side forever.

Cregan found himself shaking Y/n hand,who helped him climb over the wall that divided them, and in a moment he was on the other balcony.

He crossed his eyes again with those of his future wife,who immediately answered him with another sweet smile and opened the window door,to let him enter in the warmth of her room and protect him from that storm.

Immediately closed the door behind them and,after a moment of uncertainty she spoke first«Give me your cloak,i’ll put it here with mine so that tomorrow the servants can wash them.»she told him,taking her off to remain in her pink nightgown.

Cregan blushed even more as he nodded as if in a trance and took off his dark cloak,handing it over to her and revealing a pastel-colored pajamas.

He thought it was impossible for a room to look like it owner,but Y/n bedroom was just like her:a mess of colors,books everywhere and with a pleasant warmth that made him feel safe.

«Why are you still awake?»Cregan suddenly asked,trying to not move around too much.

The little girl took two pillows from her bed and a blanket,walking to the fluffy carpet in front of the old fireplace that the servants had lighted up before she went to bed,once the thunderstorm had started.

«I like to watch the storms.»she said,patting the empty space next to her with one hand«Also,now that my mother is pregnant and my father stays up with his advisors,i need to check on her.»she continues.

Cregan looked at her carefully,the long hair falling free on her shoulders,her perfect face.He was right,she so much mature than he was,already taking care of everyone around her at such a young age,just like a proper lady should.

As he took place next to her on the pavement,still keeping a proper distance between them,Cregan realized that he didn't know anything about her.But he knew how much she loved her mother as he always saw the two of them holding hands.He didn't know if she had the same relationship with her father,who seemed to prefer her older brothers,but he still didn't have enough closeness to ask her for more information.

In fact,they had absolutely no closeness and it could be seen in the silence that fell between the two children.One of those silences that always arise in similar situations,when two people don't know each other but have to spend time together.

«Would you like to do something?»Y/n calm voice sounded even more melodious up close.

She tried to mask that awkwardness with a polite tone,asking her guest with a kind expression.

Cregan spoke little and for the rest of the time he just agreed or disagreed on a certain statement.

The younger of the two was shrinking her minds to think of some kind of game to play together, but the boy next to her would just stare at her,frowning,as if he was annoyed by that situation,while standing close to window of that room like he wanted to escape that situation.

Y/n curled her nose,bored by that sudden superior attitude that Cregan was carrying on himself.

«Look,you can still go back in the rain if you prefer.»she told him,with a sour tone.

She felt bad to see him frightened by that thunderstorm,but if he didn't even show her a minimum of gratitude or a spirit of collaboration, then he could very well leave.Y/n was a sunny child,always with a smile on her face and ready to raise the morale of anyone who needed it.

But“This boy is really unpleasant”she thought.

Cregan crossed his arms to his chest,squeezing his eyes and staring at her,offended and angry at the same time.He thought that he shouldn’t have accepted her invitation and that both their fathers had made a mistake by promising them.They would never get along.

He could very well go back to his room and overcome that storm on his own,as he had always done until then.He didn’t need Y/n help.He made a grimace in the direction of the little girl,who responded to the gesture by raising her eyes to the sky.

But when he was about to open the window door and return to his room,without his dark cloak,a flash illuminated the sky and his face.

Cregan eyes went wide,as he was falling backwards and ending up on the ground on his butt as he waited for the arrival of the thunder that did not take long to arrive.His lower lip trembled,while he couldn't move any muscle.

He hated how thunderstorms could do this to him.He hated how they could make him tremble and frighten.

“They are a normal thing,dictated by nature”his father had always told him.

Yet Cregan didn't believe it.He continued to hate thunderstorms.

And something told him that this fear of his would never go away.

«Cregan.... are you all right?»he heard a soft voice behind his back.

Cregan looked up and saw Y/n standing on her knees on the carpet and he only remembered at that moment of her presence.

The boy gasped,looking for an answer.But before he could speak,another flash lit up the room,and before the thunder could be heard,Cregan had already put his hands on his ears.

The arrogant facade,which he had previously put on,had now completely crumbled, revealing his insecure and frightened side.

Y/n didn't know what to do.

The annoyed face she had a little while ago,was gone.Now she was really worried for him.She just wanted to find a way to distract him,and to put an end to that clash of lights that illuminated the room.

Cregan did not move,with his head resting on his bent knees,and the palms of his hands were still covering his ears,in the vain hope of not hearing that almost metallic and shackled noises.

«It’s alright,don't worry.»Y/n tried to reassure him.But it seemed that no one could move the young boy.

«They usually just make a big noise and then they go away.»she continued with a reassuring voice getting closer to him.

But Cregan was still shaking, scared,and Y/n didn't know what to do.She was never scared of thunderstorms.She would have liked to hold him tight in a hug,to drive away all his fear.But she knew that if she did,she would only make things worse.

In the meantime,Cregan continued to make himself small,smaller and smaller,curled up almost on himself on that light pavement.

«I mean…deep down it's just water,isn't it?Water and lights.As if it were an ocean... and the oceans are beautiful,aren't they,Cregan?»she asked with a hint of hope.

Y/n was used to the water,she lived near the sea and she had grew up running up and down on her fathers boats with her brothers.Her mothers read her stories about fishes,sailors,mermen and mermaids.

And while he did not respond,too busy controlling his fear,Y/n came up with an idea.

«I know what to do!»she almost screamed,catching Cregan attention and shicking around the room,as if looking for something.

The boy looked at her confused,forgetting – but only for a short time – of the thunderstorm.

«There you are.»Y/n exhaled,almost relieved.

Cregan blinked,observing the more confusion she had created throughout that room,the books scattered on the floor and the cabinets wide open,just for that medium-sized old book she now held in her hands,with a proud and satisfied smile.He didn't understand what use that book could have,but he didn't breathe,limiting himself to observing the young girl sitting carefully next to him and opening it.

And then millions of billions of fishes began to swim between the old pages.Cregan mouth widened into an “o”, but he quickly closed it again before Y/n could notice his astonishment.It's just a very simple book of fairy tales,he said to himself.

Yet,in some way,it had distracted him.

«If you lie down on the bed,you can see them better.»Y/n spoke,making herself comfortable on her bed and starting to turning the pages.

Cregan grimaced,watching how she was smiling.That wasn’t proper.

«Why should I lie down-»yet another thunder«Alright... I lie down.»he immediately changed his mind.

He hurriedly took the steps that separated him from that bed,before sinking into the lavander sheets that smelled of flowers and vanilla.

Y/n by his side smiled at him.But Cregan didn’t,remaining impassive and jolting at every thunder.She closed the curtains around her bad,only the soft light of the candle on the nightstand remain.The 'lightning' factor had been solved.

«They're beautiful,aren’t they?»she said,tracing with her fingers the different fishes.

They were.Their shapes,colors,sizes were mesmerizing.

Cregan didn't know to answer again.Those bright,fishes seemed to moved quickly on all those pages in a continuous flow.They were simple,so damn simple,yet they had caught the his attention.

«Yes,they ar–»he tried to agree with her,but here's yet another thunder made him jump out of fear.

Y/n by his side watched him close his eyes and plug his ears with both hands.

She had to find a way to distract him from the sounds too.

«You see him?»she turned the page and pointed to a strange figure on the right corner.

A man with a tail of a fish.

Cregan turned to her,taking his hands off his ears and moving his eyes on what Y/n finger was pointing to.

«It’s a merman?»he sounded uncertain,the figure on the book looked like the blazon of house Manderly.

Y/n nodded her head confirming his question«They said that he loved another mermaid and when the pirates had captured her,driven by grief,he turned his body in marble creating White Harbor.»she explained him,showing him another picture of the place where now she was living.

Cregan looked confused,his eyebrows raising«Why would he do that?»

The girl next to him sighed,her shoulder touching his,the sweet perfume of her hair was tickling his nose.She was warm and soft and made his stomach twist and his hands sweat.

«I guess that he couldn’t live without her and preferred to die.»she simply answered«Years ago i used to cry when my mother read me this story.»she continued as she flipped the page.

In the dim light,he could see that her eyes were a little glassy and only now he remembered that just like him,she was still a child with fears like him and stories that made her cry in her mother arms.

«How about her?»Cregan eyes and hand went to point to a female picture.

A mermaid with a red tale and long wet red hair on her shoulders,sitting on a rock near the coast.Her beautiful expression seemed pained,her mouth opened as if she was saying something.In the distance seemed that a storm was coming,the waves crashing into the shore,dark clouds on the horizon.

Y/n smiled,stretching the book out to him so that he could take a better look«She was a princess that fell in love with a sailor.Her father,the King of the fourteen seas had forbidden their love.»she started to explain with a soft tone«They could see each other only on the beginning of the Long Summer,when her father was away in the ocean»she said.

Cregan yawned«And how did they knew when the Long Summer came?»he seemed genuinely interested now.

«The storm.»Y/n quickly answered«It was her way to let him know that she was waiting for him.She was calling him back to her.»in her expression he could find a hint of teasing.

He shuddered,the thing that scared him the most,for this children book,was just a mermaid calling for her lover.

«But how does he know?»he asked again and his voice was becoming softer,his eyes closing a bit,yet he stayed very curious about the story.

«Does he know what?»Y/n whispered.

«That it was her.»he continued.

«Because he had loved no else but her in his life.Only her could have called him back home.»she explained and he swore he could’ve seen her eyes shine bright.

«I hate her father.»Cregan mumbled.

He found it stupid,it was just a fairy tale to help people sleep,but if the mermaid father didn’t get in the way tonight he would’ve been scared.And that’s also must had been the reason why she wasn’t afraid of them.

Y/n giggles made him blush,as she shook a little onto him«But you know what’s the best part of it?For the rest of the summer there wouldn’t be any other storms,just the bright sun as the two of them could be together.»she whispered.

It was a way to say that after every thunderstorm that would’ve been the sun.Always.

«Wasn’t she scared of her father founding out that they were still together?»his voice was sleepy and his eyes heavy.

Y/n shook her head«Love is stronger than fear.»she stated«Don’t you find it beautiful?»she said then,a dreamy look in her eyes.

There was no answer.

Y/n turned to him,finding him with his eyes closed and his mouth half-open.His chest would rise and fall at a regular pace,while his slight breathing could be heard.She smiled at that sight as she stroked his hair.

Cregan had fallen asleep.Y/n was satisfied.Satisfied and happy.

She succeeded in her intent,help him and distract him from the thing that scared him the most.She wondered what Cregan would do at this time if Y/n hadn’t invited him?

He would probably still have been awake.Because the thunderstorm hadn't stopped,no,it had never stopped.The mermaid was still calling for her lover.

The flashes,however,had mixed in the images on the pages and the noise of thunder had been lost among the stories of Y/n mermaids.Cregan had been so busy observing those images drawn on the book and hating the King of the seas,that he completely forgot about the thunderstorm.

Y/n closed the book,placed it carefully on her nightstand and reached out to grab a thin sheet at the bottom of their feet and covered the young boy who slept well by her side.

«Good night,Cregan.Tomorrow there will be the sun,i promise you.»she whispered kissing his forehead and drifting to sleep too.

And for the first time,after so many years,he slept.After so many years,Cregan was sleeping peacefully with a thunderstorm.

On any day in the early summer,ten years later,Lady Y/n Stark of Winterfell was laying in the bed she shared with her Lord husband.

Wife and husband,that’s what her and Cregan had been for the past four years.But before pronouncing their vows in front of the Seven and their families,they had became the best of friends.

When did they start calling each other that way?When did they become friends?Could they find a precise moment when they had gone from being strangers to even best friends?Were they able to establish the exact moment when their bond changed?

No,they couldn’t.

Maybe it was the year after that fateful rainy night.Maybe it was the next month when Cregan had spent all of his moments and attention in Y/n presence,falling in love with her more and more.

Or maybe it had happened at the exact time their hands had touched,when Y/n had proposed to be together in that thunderstorm,to mark the point of change for their relationship.

They didn't know that though.Neither of them knew for sure.But they didn't even ask.They fell in love with each other before they got married and that was that mattered.There are bonds that are born before the interlocking of the hands and connections that are born before touching each other.It was just pretty to think that,all this time,there was some kind of invisible string that was tying them together.

Anyone who cared for Cregan had to understand that he needed a little looking after.Someone who could help him sleep,who reminded him that he was just human and that he could still a child sometimes.And Y/n understood that,she held him gently,far more gently that anyone ever did.She stayed up with him when he couldn’t sleep at night,she stood next to him to greet the arrival of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and supported him in his decision to fight for the Dragon Queen.

All because she loved him more than anything and because he loved her.To love and to be loved was to rest.

Yet,now that Cregan was away,on the Wall of the great north with the young prince,Y/n couldn’t seem to find sleep.It was raining heavily outside,the long summer had arrived earlier that year and a violent storm was what welcomed it.

The pale rays of the moon filtered through the clouds,the wind was blowing against the windows,the lights of the lightning shaped the dark room she was in.

Cregan had ruined her,she thought to herself,ever since they got married and started to share the bed she couldn’t sleep if he wasn’t next to her,holding her in his arms,kissing her lips softly and whispering how much he loved her.But she knew that,with the war at their doorstep,he was busy with the young prince Jacaerys who came two weeks ago in ask for the help of the North.

Her husband was a man of honor,the Lord of Winterfell that never forget his oaths.

When a particular loud thunder broke through the quietness of the castle,Y/n got up from her bed.Taking the candle on the nightstand,she started walking down the dark corridor to reach her children chambers.Her sons,Rickon and Brandon,only four and two years old,looked exactly like their father:true men of the north but with their mother eyes and kind smile.

Just like their father they were scared of storms,it took her hours to put them to bed that night since the first drop of rain had hit the ground.They both reminded her the first time that she had spent with Cregan during one of those,curling up on her as she read them one of her books to help them sleep.

But that night was different,after two weeks of writing letters and longing,Cregan was finally home.As she quietly opened the door,the candle that Y/n was holding in her hand almost fell,when she saw her husband sitting on a chair in between the two beds where their sons seemed to sleep so soundly and well.

He was still wearing his dark fire coat and his long were wet,the tip of his nose red from the cold,while in his hands he was holding a old fairy tale book that they both knew very well.As if he had heard her behind the door,he smiled,and his face was like the sun.

He had came back as soon as he had heard the first sounds of the thunders,like a sailor bewitched by the melody of a siren voice.His sons were the first ones to greet him,running barefoot down the hallways to reach comfort in their father strong arms.

Cregan had been there before,his heart clenched in his chest as he dried the tears off their eyes and saw the fear on their little faces.But he knew what he had to do,unlike his father,he would always be there for help his children no matter what.

«The mermaid had waited all winter for her lover return,her voice guided him through the storm.»his voice was quiet and soft like a warm blanket«With the first lights of the new sun,he came back to her.»in his hands the hold book.

His oldest son yawned«But wasn’t he afraid of the storm?»Rickon asked,holding his teddy bear closer to his chest.

«He was.»Cregan nodded«But you know what is stronger than fear?»he whispered,noticing his younger son fast asleep.

Rickon shook his head,his eyes fighting to urge to close«What?»he chirped.

«Love.»his father simply answered«The idea of coming back to his lover was stronger than the fear of the storm.»Cregan stood up,caressing his son head.

«One day i want to love someone this much.Just like you love mama.»Rickon murmured sleepy,with a little smile on his face.

«And you will.»he promised«One day you will have someone that will help you overcome your fears and that will always call you back home when you are wondering too far.»he kissed both of his sons forehead.

Cregan was still a little nervous about storms,but that night he was finally back home as sun on water.Y/n reached for him and skimmed her hands over the light of him.

«I missed you.»she whispered on his lips,kissing him sweetly.

Cregan was holding her in his arms,gently caressing her hair,his forehead on hers«I saw the storm and i knew.»he smiled,trailing his lips on her chin and cheeks.

Y/n shivered,not only because his icy fingers were rubbing up and down her back,but because only her could understand the meaning of those words.The intimacy of having something only them could share with each other.

«So you came back early because of the storm?»she giggled as his beard tickled her beautiful face.

He smiled even more,tightening his grip on her smaller body«I came back because of you.Only you could have called me back home.»he whispered placing a kiss on her lips.

The smell of her hair,the taste of her mouth,the feeling of her skin seemed to have gotten inside of him or in the air all around him.She had become a physical necessity,not only to ease his fear,but to have someone to come back to.

She placed her head on his chest,listening to his heartbeat beating alongside hers.They stood there for a moment more,embracing each other,in the dark corridor.

«Do you hear it?»Y/n softly asked suddenly.

«Hear what?»Cregan voice was low.

«The sound of the rain.»she explained,closing her eyes and relaxing against his touch.

For a while they just listened to the incessant ticking of the rain,while a thousand fish continued to swim on the pages of their book.

But suddenly a flash illuminated the corridor,followed by the due thunder.

Y/n jolted,expecting her husband to do the same.

Yet this was not the case«Aren't you afraid of thunderstorms anymore?»she teased him.

«How can I be afraid of thunderstorms when I'm by your side?»he said,caressing her cheek lovingly.

«Tomorrow there will be the sun.»she smiled against him,brighter than any light.

She was right,after the storm there was always the warm weather and Y/n was the golden sun at the horizon.That one thing that gave him hope for a brighter future,the only one that could bring him back home.Because his sleepless nights are better with her than any nights could ever be alone.

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