#Part 8

[dcxdpdabbles]

God, I love the Cave Boy series. Will the batfam manage to find him after he dips. Will they ever find out about his powers. So many questions

Danny stays underground for days.

He doesn't know the exact time frame because he only goes to the surface to grab supplies. He makes sure to only fully emerge when there is no light out.

It was a bigger risk to be caught by the Waynes, who only operated in the dark, but it ensured fewer eyewitnesses were around. Danny Kane was still a very hot celebrity for taking down the Joker- he would be surrounded by a mob of fans if he walked down the street.

He moved his ship into a deeper cave by phasing the large metal and all his equipment through solid rock, which was not easy. It was a miracle he found a little pocket to set up shop.

Danny thinks the little pocket- surrounded by stone with no opening at all, was formed after a cave-in at one point. It was large enough to work on his ship and had just enough space to set up a sleeping bag and a tent for rest.

He rarely uses that space nowadays.

Danny had stolen from a camping store- taking with him an entire box of lanterns that he placed strategically around his space. They threw light to the large four walls of stone- making him feel trapped inside a midevil dungeon, and somehow, it also made him think incredulity alone.

That was the worst part of this whole change of scenery. He doesn't want to admit it, but he got used to Wayne Manor and the colorful characters there.

He hadn't even done anything besides lay around but he missed the sound of people. Even before Bruce had found him, Danny would see people often as he wandered around gathering a sense of the city.

Now, he was genuinely suffocating alone. He didn't feel the loss often, but there were times when it felt like being hit by a truck.

It's when his own ice powers reach into his bones, causing his teeth to clatter and curl up into a smaller ball on the cave ground, that Danny misses the Manor the most. He stole food from the stores- but without any way to cook or heat it up, it's limited to the packed food.

Sometimes, while eating packs of dried fruit, he thinks longingly of Alfred's warm meals. Then he remembers how they looked at him when his lies got so out of hand that they believed Bruce's parents lived in his world and he could suppress the longing to return.

Danny has made leaps and bounds on building his ship since he no longer pretends to be Brucie. He no longer filled the hours with nonsense, only being awake to work or stealing what he needed to continue working.

Unlike before, Danny had developed a tunnel version of finishing his project. He no longer wanted to give himself time to ensure everything was fine.

He just wanted to go home.

He's gotten better at wielding using his own ghost laser, and now his ship had its full body. It was missing seats, a window, and even a steering program that actually turned when he wanted- but he was getting closer and closer every day.

All the small technology pieces he stole from the Waynes were on one side- ripped apart for the needed parts. He would spend hours carefully opening everything to check what he could use and what he could melt down to repurpose.

Danny carefully pulls out some small wires from the electric candle he took from the Wayne Dinner table when his vision blurs. He takes a moment to blink rapidly, trying to let the sudden burst of lightheadedness pass him.

Sadly, it was only a few seconds before he crumbled to the hard ground. He gasps, the cold coming back tenfold, and he can do nothing but lay there and pray the pain passes.

Danny hadn't felt this weak since his ice core first developed. Even the first Ghostly Wail hadn't made his limbs feel this heavy.

He knows he has been pushing himself too far lately- barely eating or sleeping- but Danny can't risk any wasted second. He saw the resources the Bats have.

It was only a matter of time before they found him- even if they would need to drill through the solid stone for hours to reach him- and he didn't want to face them after the guilt of lying to them was slowly eating him alive.

He had kept the Wayne at arm's length the entire time, living under the pretense of being Bruce Wayne's counterpart. He told himself he wanted nothing to do with their nightly battle against evil- and he didn't!- and that he could care less if they treated him as family.

He took everything they gave him without hesitation, telling himself they were fools for letting anyone in and stealing from them. Danny thought it would not matter as he would finish his ship and be flying home long before they realized he wasn't Bruce.

Until they stop treating him so warmly after killing the Joker. Danny wasn't sorry about it, but suddenly, he was a stranger in a crowd to them.

Danny had no right to be upset. He lied. He didn't want to be Brucie to them and had actively made Tim look bad by being as Unproactive as possible, going along with changed narratives of his world.

Danny had used the Waynes.

Yes, he did so, believing they were a cult or an evil madman, but he learned that wasn't the case early on. He could have ended the lie at any moment, but he didn't because he figured it would be harmless.

Then he realized that Bruce's parents were killed in front of him- the story wasn't hard to find when he actually bothered to look into the Waynes at a local high school library after hours.

Not only did he find the horrific story, but he found out that almost all the Waynes had a tragic story. Dick's parents were murdered in an accident that wasn't an accident at all.

Tim's parents were killed by a madman with boomerangs. Jason's father died in prison, and his mother overdosed before Bruce took him in. Duke's parents were patients with no working mind because of the Joker (Danny should have made his death last longer).

The only ones that didn't seem to be Cass and Damian, but he knew it was likely due to Bruce not wanting the public to learn that they came from abusive households- he figured that much out by their reactions.

Even Alfred had a history of PTSD from his time in the army. There was an article about a scandal when Bruce had actually been a child- apparently, someone had thought to release firecrackers under the servant's table, and Alfred had panicked. People had mocked him about it for months.

Everyone had a reason to be a villain, yet they all had opened their home to him and been nothing but kind. They were good, and they treated him like family.

Danny felt sick with himself, for being so self-centered he never bothered to really get to know them. And now he never could.

A few tears rolled down his face as his vision started to blur out more and more.

No use crying over it now, Fenton. Though the haze of exhaustion doesn't let him get up from the floor, he thinks bitterly.

He'll rest for a little bit, then get back to work. Only for a few minutes/

Danny doesn't notice his body has shifted in his Ghist side, slowly redirecting his energy to his core, so that his healing could help overcome the unknown days.

He is not aware his heartbeat stops at the same time.

_____________________________________________________________

"I can't hear him anymore!" A young boy screams, pressing his ear against a stone. Horror clouds his voice as he turns to stare at another boy. "His heartbeat....it's not...."

"We must make haste! Breakthrough now!" The other boy snaps.

"But that might cause the cave to fall on top of him." The other rubs his hands together nervously. "I think we may be too late to save-"

"Every second we waste is a second that Brucie gets closer to death!" His company growls savagely, though the tears in his eyes make him less scary. "We have to at least bring his body home- we-I can't- he needs to be buried properly."

Not even a second passed before the other boy threw his shoulders back, yanking out his phone and pressing a speed dial two.

His father picks up two rings. "Jon?"

"Dad! We found Brucie! He was stuck in a cave underneath the tunnels leading to Gotham Cemetry. Can you come help me get him out?"

"I'll be right there."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #cave boy #Part 8 #Danny is starting to feel guilty #The bats found him #Damian and Jon friendship #It's not good to not take care of yourself

[zepskies]

Take Me Home - Part 8

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: I think you guys are gonna like this chapter. 😘 (Or at least I hope so.)

Song Inspo: “Take Me Home (Country Roads)” by John Denver, and “Fooled Around and Fell in Love” by Elvin Bishop

Word Count: 4.9K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Fluff, hurt/comfort, and smut, of course. (Finally.)

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 8: Take Me Home

“You sure you don’t need anything else, hun?” Denise asked you, for the third time.

She sat beside your hospital bed and rubbed your arm. You covered her hand with yours, careful not to tug the IV line taped to the top of your hand.

“I’m fine. It’s okay,” you replied. Your aunt was fighting tears in her red-rimmed eyes, but if she started crying, then you would start crying all over again. You gave her a small smile and grabbed your cup of water instead.

Now that you were getting fluids and electrolytes pumped into you (and you’d had a big turkey and cheese sandwich), you were starting to feel better. Emily had been checked out here in the Emergency Department as well, but she had also been discharged just a few minutes ago.

She came to say goodbye to you over in your curtained off room. She was reluctant to leave you here, but you hugged her close and fought the tears in your eyes. Beau and Carla were there too, both waiting for their daughter and smiling at the scene. 

“Time for you to get some rest,” you told her with a smile.

“Are they going to keep you here all night?” she asked, after pulling away from your arms. She sniffled too, wiping at her face.

“Probably not,” you said. “I think they’re just being extra.”

“Not if you hit your head hard enough,” Denise remarked. Her gaze was pointedly chiding.

The doctor thought the tenderness on the back of your head was just bruising. You didn’t seem to have a concussion. She mostly wanted to keep you because you were dehydrated, more so than Emily. That, combined with the minor head trauma, meant you were a bit too out of it for the doctor’s liking. She wanted to keep you on the IV for a while longer, as well as monitor the severity of your head injury.

You sighed. All you wanted to do was go home and take a shower, then fall face first in your bed…

Well, okay, maybe not face first. You were a bit bruised up. The nurse had also applied a salve on your wrists for the tape and rope burns.

“Well, I hope you feel better,” said Emily. You gave her one last smile, squeezing her hand. You guided her off to join her mom in the hallway.

Meanwhile, Beau approached your bed. Denise wore a certain smile, but she backed out to give you two some privacy.

You smiled up at Beau, who touched your bruised cheek tenderly. In his eyes, you saw pain, but also deeper emotions shining there. He leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes and savored the feeling.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after he pulled away. “I need to go and get Emily settled at home, but I’ll come see you soon as I can.”

You shook your head. “It's okay, don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” he said. His gaze became heavier, weighted with guilt. “For trying to take care of her through all this. I know I couldn’t. I failed both of you, and I’m so sorry.”

You grabbed his hand with both of yours. Your eyes burned with emotion, but you looked up at him firmly.

“This isn’t on you,” you said. “I’m sure you did your best. She knows it, and I do too. And we’re okay.”

 Beau let out a long breath. You knew he didn’t totally believe you, but he nodded and laid a kiss on the back of your hand.

“I’ll be back for you,” he said. You smiled through your tears.

“Okay. I’m counting on that.”

That night, Beau tucked Emily into bed like she was still a little girl. She humored him, smiling in amusement while he smoothed the warm quilt over her, pulled up to her shoulders. He bent down and kissed her forehead, just like he used to do every night after story time.

“If you need anything, and I mean anything, I’ll be right down the hall,” he said. At this moment, Carla was setting up one of the two guest rooms for him. If nothing else, Avery had spared no expense on this country-style house.

“Have you checked on her yet?” Emily asked.

Beau knew she meant you. He sighed, shaking his head. He’d been preoccupied with making sure Emily got home safe, but it didn’t mean he’d forgotten about you. He just didn’t want to leave his daughter tonight.

“She tried to play it off, but he hit her pretty hard,” Emily said. She looked concerned about you, and Beau was too. 

He breathed through that information with a tense nod. He was now actually grateful for Sunny Barnes, and the choice she made up on that mountainside in the woods.

Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from Denise:

They’re keeping her overnight at the hospital.

Before Beau’s worry could start climbing, another text came in.

Nothing to worry about. Some of her levels were still low, so they just want to monitor her progress overnight and be sure she’s okay. She’ll probably get discharged in the morning. 

He nodded in understanding (and with a breath of relief).

“Who’s that?” Emily asked.

“It’s Denise, says they’re gonna have to stay overnight. But it’s nothing serious,” he supplied. Then he texted back.

OK, good… I’ll come by the hospital in the morning, if that’s all right.

Denise soon replied.

Of course it is. See you tomorrow, Sheriff!

Beau pocketed his phone, just to spy his daughter’s sly smile. He felt his face warming with embarrassment.

“What?” he asked. Emily sighed and freed her arms, crossing them over the quilt.

“If you love her, you should really just tell her,” she said.

To say that shocked Beau would be an understatement. He gave a chuckle of disbelief.

“You playing matchmaker for me already?” he said.

“I have two working eyes, Dad,” she wryly replied. Beau’s lips quirked upwards, but his gaze fell with uncertainty. 

“It’s okay,” Emily said, laying a hand on his arm. “I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with Mom.”

He smiled. Sometimes she could be just like her mom, he reflected. In a good way.

“You’re really okay with it?” he asked. Emily raised an incredulous brow at him.

“Yeah, Dad. I like her a lot,” she said. “And not just because she was there for me through this whole thing…”

Beau’s heart began to break again, seeing the trauma in her eyes. He leaned in and gave her a warm, comforting hug. She held him back just as tight, resting her head on his shoulder.

“As long as I’m alive, I’m gonna make sure you’re safe,” he promised. “Even if I gotta follow you to the prom.”

Emily laughed through the beginnings of tears. Even if he did make through on that promise one day, she might not mind so much.

By the morning, the doctor was happier with your vitals and determined that your bruised skull was indeed minor. You were finally given the green light to get discharged from the hospital, and you couldn’t have been any more ready to go home.

Denise was flitting around your hospital room to get your stuff together. If you were honest, she was making you a bit dizzy as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“Okay, I tidied up your apartment a bit when I was getting your clothes and stuff. So you shouldn’t have to do anything when you get home, except get some rest, of course,” she said. She set your little duffel bag full of your dirty clothes from yesterday, your toiletries, and your purse.

You now wore a fresh shirt and some jeans, but despite using baby wipes to try and clean yourself, you still felt dusty and grimy, even in your hair.

“Let’s go then,” you said, about to push yourself up from your hospital bed. Denise stopped you with a hand on your arm.

“Not just yet, honey,” she said. She was texting someone on her phone. You gave her a look of confusion.

“Why? You ordering room service or something?” you joked. Just then, someone’s tall frame stepped into the doorway of your room.

“Special Delivery,” said Beau. He wore a smile to go along with his familiar beige jacket, as well as a takeout bag from your favorite breakfast café, and a small bouquet of flowers.

Your eyes widened in shock, then with tears.

“What…”

“I told you I’d be back,” he teased. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

He swooped in and gave you the flowers first, along with a sweet kiss on the cheek. You sniffled, admiring the pretty reds, oranges, and yellows in the assortment. Your eyes traveled up to his handsome grin.

He bent down beside you to offer his arm. “You ready to go then?”   

You were confused, but you still curled a hand around his arm, letting him help you to your feet.

“I asked Denise if I could give you a police escort home,” Beau said, his eyes dancing. “Is that all right with you?”

Your wide eyes dimmed with understanding and amusement, especially when you looked over at your aunt. She really was devious.

“That’s very all right,” you said.

“Good! I’m gonna head home, but I’ll be checking in on you later,” Denise said.

She kissed your cheek as well, and then she was gone, leaving you still holding onto Beau’s arm. He leaned over and grabbed your duffel bag along with the food. You knew you’d be breaking that open in the car.

He looked down on you with a softer smile.

“Can I finally get you out of here?” he asked.

You smiled back.

“Yeah,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder. “Please, take me home.”

After getting home to a nice clean apartment (and bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches eaten in the car), Beau set down your things while you went to grab a shower.

You tried to be quick but thorough in washing your hair, along with the rest of yourself.

Beau made sure dishes were put away, trash was taken out, all the little things he could think of, so you wouldn’t have to later. Then he relaxed on the couch and watched some TV while he waited for you.

He noticed that you’d replaced the coffee table with solid wood this time. The pictures had new frames.

He took note of one with your father, who was dressed in his formal uniform, with the white hat and decals that designated him as a firehouse chief. There was another of you with a group of friends. (Michael was missing from that group, Beau noted with satisfaction.) Then there was one of just you and Mary.

And on the wall was a new canvas that didn’t yet have a frame. It was an unsigned painting of a forest of yellow aspen trees, with a single road cutting through them.

“That’s the view I had when I drove into Montana for the first time,” you said. Beau switched off the TV and turned to look at you.

You were leaning on the back of the couch, next to his head. You gave him a smile, before you pushed away to come around and join him.

“You’re getting good, you know,” he said, gesturing at your artwork.

And you smelled nice, he thought, like jasmine soap and whatever shampoo you used. He noted that you’d mostly dried your hair. It was the good kind of messy, falling around your shoulders. You’d also opted for a thin sweater over your jeans. He caught the edge of something lacey peeking out of your collar.

“Thanks,” you said, a little bashful. “I’m trying. I’ve been taking lessons.”

“It shows,” he nodded. He inched closer to you, turning towards you with a bent knee resting on the cushion. You did the same. His arm rested across the back of the couch, beside your head. By now he’d taken off his jacket, so you could almost feel the warmth of his skin near your cheek.

“Anyway, how’s Emily doing?” you asked, touching his knee. “And Carla?”

He nodded with a sigh. “Em’s shaken up, but…she’ll be okay. I think she’s handling it better than her mom, to be honest.”

You could understand that, actually. Not only had Carla lost her husband, but she’d almost lost her daughter in the same night. You didn’t know how you would cope in that situation either.

“She’s a tough kid,” you said of Emily. “But Carla seems strong too.”

“She is,” Beau agreed. “They both are.”

He leaned forward and gently thumbed at the yellowing bruise just under your eye. He sighed.

“Em told me everything that happened,” he said.

You bit your lip. You tried not to let it, but a fresh wave of emotion was rising in your chest, up to your throat.

“I tried to get Buck to let her go,” you said. Your voice trembled, almost choking on your words. “I’m sorry—”

“Hey.” He caressed your cheek. He blinked past the stinging in his own eyes. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. Do you hear me?”

You sniffed as a couple tears made their way down your face. You quickly wiped them away.

“I’m the one who needs you to forgive me,” he said, gently squeezing your arm. “I promised myself I would keep you safe, that I wouldn’t drag you into this mess. And I couldn’t keep my end of the deal.”

“Stop that,” you said. You grabbed the front of his shirt. “How many times do I have to say it’s not your fault before you get it in your stubborn head?”

It came out a bit snappish, but the moment your shining eyes met his, you both seemed to realize where your passions had led you. Just inches away from one another.

“Maybe one more time,” Beau said, in a quieter, but no less heady voice. There was a hint of humor in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile back.

You released his shirt and instead, took his face in your hands.

“I’m not forgiving you,” you said, “because I don’t blame you. All I wanted is what I’m getting right now. You, right here with me.”

Beau shook his head and let out a sharp breath. Then he finally closed the distance once again, meeting you with a kiss. It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was passionate and claiming, and soon it was devouring. You pulled him in and tangled your fingers in his hair. With a groan, he wrapped his arms around your waist and hauled you into his lap. There you moved to straddle his hips, battling with lips and tongue all the while.

The kiss broke suddenly, letting you both catch your breath for a moment.

“Wanted do that all week,” Beau said, through panting breaths. You laughed a little, soothing your fingers through his hair. You took a comfortable seat in his lap.

“Remember how you helped put my bed together when I moved in?” you asked.

“Sure do. Nearly lost a thumb on that one,” he replied cheekily. You grinned and brushed your thumb along his lower lip.

“Well, then I think it’s only fair you help me break it in,” you said, maybe sounding more confident than you felt.

Beau smiled. Yet he still managed to surprise you; with supportive hands under your thighs, he took you with him when he stood. You yelped in surprise and clung to his shoulders. He laughed and pressed a kiss into your neck, before he carried you into the bedroom.

There he sat you down on the edge of the bed. He lowered and kneeled between your legs, letting you hold him there with his bearded face in your hands again. Your heart was full looking down at him, finding his amusement as well as his desire. It was a beautiful thing, you thought.

His hands slipped under the hem of your sweater and began inching it up. You shivered at the way his hands felt against your bare skin. You helped him pull the sweater over your head, revealing a black silk camisole underneath, edged with lace.

He hummed in appreciation and felt the silk between his fingers.

“Were you planning for this?” he asked.

“I might’ve hoped,” you said with a smile.

You then sighed at the feeling of him leaning in to kiss down your neck, and down your chest. He stopped briefly to get the camisole off, finding your red, lacy bra underneath. That was his other favorite color on you so far. His kisses led him down between your breasts as he unhooked the bra next.

You tugged at the back of his sweater, trying to get it off. He paused in his explorations to help you. By then he got impatient with kneeling. He took you with him by the hips when he straightened, letting his hands feel every exposed curve of you. You sighed against his lips, kissing him again with renewed passion. 

Your hands slid down his shoulders and arms, and over his slightly furry chest, down to his belt between you. You started on the buckle. The click of the metal was like a switch in his brain; he let you get as far as unbuttoning his jeans before he took over for you. After all his days of indecision, he was a bit impatient.

Most of his clothes became a haphazard pile next to most of yours on the floor. You let him guide you back onto the bed, though he was careful in cupping the back of your head when he laid you down. You might not have had a concussion, but you were still bruised and healing, in more ways than one.

Beau had you almost naked underneath him, save for your unhooked bra and panties. For a moment, he had to savor the sight of you, beautiful and laid out for him. But he found himself slowing down for a different reason. He caressed your cheek. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I mean, I just brought you home from the hospital—”

You cut him off by hooking a hand behind his neck, and pulling him down for a heated kiss.

“Don’t make me wait anymore, Beau,” you whispered. “I need you.”

He looked down at you with a growing smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

You laughed, and the sound and brightness of it made his smile deepen. He ducked down to burn another path of wet, open-mouthed kisses down the other side of your neck.

You sighed and tilted your head, giving him access. Your hands swept across his shoulders, down the smooth planes of his back.

You hooked a thigh around his hip, bringing him flush against your center. His rising length brushed the dampness in your panties. He moaned against your skin. His kisses became sloppier down to your breasts.

You helped him peel the loose bra from your shoulders. He flung it away to parts unknown, making you giggle. He smirked in response, but soon your amusement turned to moans as his lips found one of your breasts.

His tongue swirled around the hardened bud and scraped gently with his teeth. He also palmed at the other, squeezing gently and rolling a hard nipple under his fingers.

“God, Beau…” Your voice was breathy and desperate, your fingers starting to rake through his hair and across his scalp. It made a shiver run down his spine. He wondered what it would take to have your nails scraping down his back.

You were already panting and squirming against him now, your legs gripping his waist tighter to try and find friction. He grabbed one of your thighs, just to feel the soft flesh under his hand.

“I gotcha, baby,” he said, panting hot breath between your breasts. “Gonna take care of you.”

“Please,” you whimpered. “It’s uh…been a long time.”

He nodded, glancing up at you. “Yeah, for me too.”

“Well, you’re doing great,” you said with a laugh.

He chuckled along with you. “I appreciate the encouragement.”

But this was all the encouragement he needed, he knew, as his fingers probed your wet heat through your underwear. You moaned and pressed yourself against his hand, seeking more. Part of him wanted to tease you, get you even more worked up…

Maybe next time, he thought. Right now, he didn’t have the patience. He pushed off you just long enough to take off your panties, bringing them down your legs and tossing them away in a smooth motion.

His own underwear came next before he lowered back down to you. You welcomed him with a searing kiss. You once again sunk your fingers into his hair and scraped with your nails, eliciting a sound from deep within his throat.

He held himself above you with a forearm above your head. His free hand moved down your body, caressing, squeezing your breast, then your ass.

“Need you to touch me,” you whispered against his lips.

He knew what you meant, but he couldn’t help teasing you a little.

“I am touching you.” He gave your ass another meaningful squeeze, but you just smirked and gave his a smack. It surprised him enough to make him buck against you.

“Ey!” he chuckled.

“Come on, cowboy,” you said. Your hand slipped in between you to find his hard cock resting against your thigh. He groaned and fastened his lips to your neck while your deft fingers explored him, teased him up and down the shaft, and the sensitive, already weeping head.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered. It had been a while since anyone but his own hand had touched him. Your soft hand felt heavenly as you used the wet beads of precum as lube across his velvety flesh. (And he had a feeling your mouth would be divine.)

But Beau wasn’t about to be outdone.

When you’d nearly brought him to the brink, teasing him with the twists and turns of your hand, he stopped you with a hand over yours and had to catch his breath for a moment. His forehead pressed into your shoulder. You giggled and rubbed his back with your free hand.

“Need a minute?” you teased. “I barely touched you.”

Beau shot you an amused look. “What can I say? You’ve got some talented hands.”

His lips brushed over the red, healing skin on your wrist. He moved further down to nip a biting kiss to the sensitive inside of your arm.

His beard scraped deliciously against your skin there, and then further down, as he laid kisses over your breasts, down your stomach, and finally down between your thighs. Your breathing became more labored the further down he went.

His fingers parted your folds and found your pussy wet and glistening for him. He gathered some of your wetness and brushed your clit, earning a sound of pleasure from you.

He let those sounds spur him on as he discovered what you liked and what you wanted, soon letting his long fingers find their way inside you.

Your hands clamped down on his shoulders as you writhed against him, pleading with his name, your hips beginning to undulate in time with his fingers.

He didn’t stop their motions pulsing inside you; his thumb circled insistently over your clit as well, until he felt your inner walls tighten and quiver around his hand, along with your shaking thighs. He swallowed up your keening cry with a deep kiss.

“You okay, baby?” he asked. He brushed your hair back, and it fanned out against your pillow. You panted heavily, but still managed to smile. You stroked his arm.

“Are you kidding?” you breathed. “Thought I was gonna break your damn hand.”

He smirked. “I considered that myself.”

His amusement only faded when a new realization hit him. “Aw shit. I don’t have a condom.”

He felt like a damn teenager, thinking with his dick and nothing else. Though he also hadn’t wanted to assume anything when he told Denise he would bring you home.

You shook your head and twined your arms around his neck.

“I’m on birth control…and I trust you,” you said.

Beau had a feeling that last part meant a lot of things. His smile grew, looking at you.

“Well, all right,” he said. “We’re in business then.”

“Oh, we’re in business, all right,” you replied. You giggled when he came back down to kiss you. He swept a hand along your cheek, tenderly.

If you love her, you should really just tell her.

That had been filtering in and out of his head all night and day. He couldn’t deny what that familiar swell of his heart meant every time he looked too deep into your eyes. He just wondered if it was too fast, too soon to say those words.

So in lieu of those words, he decided to show you.

He hooked your thighs around his hips and positioned himself at your entrance. After meeting your eyes and getting your breathless nod of approval, he slowly pushed inside you. Already he felt your core flutter around his cock as he brushed your clit. You both were breathing heavy again when he bottomed out with just the right amount of resistance.

“Goddamn,” he muttered. “Feel so fuckin’ good already.”

You nodded in agreement, squeezing his hips with your thighs.

“You rarin’ to go then?” you teased.

Those were his almost exact words to you, not so long ago. He’d been trying to get you to learn how to ride a horse, but he supposed there were…a few similarities here. He grinned down at you, and instead of answering, he shifted his hips, pulling out almost all the way, and pushing back in just as slowly.

A curse fell from your lips as your inner walls accommodated his girth. He gave you slow strokes to begin with, meeting your lips with a heated kiss when he could.

But once he found an angle that had you shuddering underneath him, squeezing him from the inside out, he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

A sheen of sweat broke out against his skin and yours as you moved together. Between moans and skin against skin, whispered encouragements, and playful goading, you felt the moment when he was close.

His movements began to stutter out of rhythm, his grip on your hip becoming almost bruising. You still needed a bit more, though you could practically taste your end; that hot coil was tightening, just not fast enough.

You slipped a hand between you to find your clit. His hand soon replaced yours though, wanting to do it himself. His deft fingers and his hard strokes brushing that sensitive spot inside finally made that coil snap. Warmth blossomed from your core and pulsed around his cock.

It had your pussy clenching on him so tight, he couldn’t help but spill into you with a ragged groan. You gasped, your back arching at the feeling of being filled to the brim.

Afterwards, he relaxed onto his elbow by your head, mindful not to smother you as he caught his breath. You sank back into bed, panting yourself. You managed to reach up and sweep his hair from his eyes, then wiped some of the sweat from his brow. It brought his gaze to meet yours and find your smile.

Beau smiled back. His hand was more soothing along your thigh.

“Well,” he said. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, darlin’.”

You burst out laughing. You covered your face with a hand, and it had his shoulders shaking as well.

He untangled from you and rolled onto his back. You followed him onto your side, closing your sticky thighs. You intended to ask if he wanted to join you for another shower in a bit, but for now, you wanted to savor this moment.

“Were you waiting the whole time so you could say that?” you asked.

“Nope. That was fresh. And I’m not ashamed to say, pretty proud of it,” he rejoined.

“I don’t know…” you said slyly, even as you trailed lazy fingers across his chest. Your nails dragged lightly over his skin, causing a delicious shiver to run through him. “I might need to rethink our future business transactions.”

Beau snorted and shook his head.

“All right. Let’s drop this metaphor,” he said. “I prefer to think of our time as pleasure, not business.”

He clasped your wandering hand against his chest, then raised it to his lips. It made your smile soften. You were at least half in love with this man.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

It’s our time now.

AN: 😘 Finally right?! Let me know what you thought of how they worked things out. 💗

(And thank you all so much for the birthday wishes. You guys are too good to me! 😭💓)

Next time, we have the grand finale...

Next Time:

Beau’s resulting deep breath raised you as well. He nodded, brushing your hair back away from your face. You pushed up enough to look up at him.

He gave you a quirking smile.

“I want this to stick,” he admitted. “I wanna take you on a proper date and make it official.”

You smiled back at him. “I’d like that.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “We’re in agreement.”

But you didn’t realize that anything official would take more time than either of you thought. 

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 9 (Finale!)

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Series Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @globetrotter28 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @ades106

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @deans-baby-momma @tabsluvsu @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons

@antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @deans-spinster-witch @agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @iprobablyshipit91 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @lostin-jensenseyes @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow

#Take Me Home #Take Me Home Series #Part 8 #beau arlen smut #Beau Arlen series #big sky #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x female reader #Emily Arlen #beau arlen x you #Jensen Ackles characters #big sky season 3 #Denise Brisbane #Jenny Hoyt #Cassie Dewell #zepskies writes

[yugogeer012]

Part 7

Part 9

#undertale au #endless route #frisk #flowey #comic #part 8 #we're close to the ultimate angst 👁️👄👁️

[safety-sam]

Sam and doggos 🐶

#part 8 #greta van fleet #sam kiszka

[aintinacage]

endless paul atreides - part 8

#endless paul atreides #paul atreides #timothée chalamet #timothee chamalet #timmy chalamet #part 8 #lady jessica #jessica atreides #rebecca ferguson #dune #dune part one #dune part 1 #dune 2021 #gifset #movie gifs #leto atreides #duke leto atreides #oscar isaac #house atreides

[doppiopinkman]

Bad dream

#secco saturday #part 5 #part 8 #doremifasolati do #urban guerrilla #secco #been obsessed with this weird dog caterpillar thing its a shame theres only three posts about him ever #whys he sleeping on the saw bathroom floor? i have a mutual whose big into saw and im seeing so many saw bathroom pics #ive seen the saw. you understand

[forgers-therapist]

tiny people (part 8)

#part 8 #icons #sxf #spy x family #manga #sxf manga #sxf tiny people #loid forger #sxf twilight #yor forger #sxf yor #sxf thorn princess #anya forger #sxf Anya

[icallhimjoey]

To Have And To Scold

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friends are getting married, and who else can they ask to be their best man and maid of honour but you and Joe? It’s just that… you don’t really get along all that well, do you? At least, that’s what you think.

CW / disclaimer: sort of enemies to sort of lovers, slooow burn, language, drinking, hangovers, rpf, fem!reader, eventual smut

Author’s note: this took me a good minute, and listen, i promise there'll be smut!!!!!! just, give joey a minute, all right?

Wordcount: 4.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten - epilogue

Joe didn't sleep a wink. How could he? He was in his bed, in his clothes still, and your behind was pressed up against his front.

All night he'd laid awake. Listened to you. Smelt you. Felt you. Around the 4AM mark, he'd built up enough courage to let his fingertips stroke the skin he could see in front of him, drawing shapes and writing words he was too scared to vocalise.

Pretty.

Sweet.

Hot.

Across your shoulders, down your arms, the back of your neck. He got to freely feel and gently caress, hidden in the dark of night. He only stopped when you hummed too loudly, made a noise that said, yes, more. Joe retracted, silently said, I'm sorry, I shouldn't, and held his breath in fear of you waking up from his touch.

It took everything inside him not to move forward just an inch and let his cupid's bow, that little sensitive ridge above his top lip, rub the soft skin at the base of your neck.

The last time he checked the time, it was close to 5:30. He didn't remember falling asleep - do people ever? - but he couldn't have been asleep for much more than an hour when you rudely awoke him by throwing your body sideways over his. Soft stomach to soft stomach.

Bread.

Joe had to pull strength up from his toes to pretend to be asleep still, as you stayed like that, draped across his torso, slowly eating the bread he'd left out on his bedside table for you.

It was one thing to hear you chew and swallow. It was a whole other thing to feel it in his own gut.

The glass of water followed, and thank the fucking lord, soon after you crawled back to what had now become your side of his bed.

Shit.

That side would now forever be your side of Joe's bed. It didn't matter who else was ever going to be sleeping in it, his bed was now divided in your side and his side.

The hangover was a real one, and after taking a dazed second to yourself, sat up in Joe's bed and looking around the room, you decided you couldn't be in bed any longer.

You needed to sit under a cold shower. Or lay with your cheek on a cool toilet seat. Spray your face with ice water and then go exist in front of an aircon unit for a minute.

Joe felt you move towards the foot of the bed before the mattress leveled out, signaling you'd gotten out completely. Soft footsteps left his bedroom. Joe heard a door open, then shut immediately. Then another. More footsteps, but now coming back, and Joe lifted his head, squinting through an eye to gather what was going on. You were stood in front of Joe's bedroom door, out on the landing, and seemed... lost. Clearly out of it, still. Purely surviving.

"Where's your-" it came out all hoarse, so you cleared your throat, got rid of the raspiness and looked at Joe. "Where's your bathroom?" voice still just as croaky.

Joe let his head fall back into the pillow and just pointed.

You spent far too long in the bathroom for Joe's liking. It gave him way too much time to think about how this morning was going to go. Too much time to go back and forth between what he thought he should do. For now, he was still very tired, wanted to remain in bed in desperate need of more sleep, but he was also very aware that the polite thing to do was to at least offer you breakfast. To go downstairs with you once you were done doing... whatever you were doing in there. The tap of his sink had been going for a while.

It was because you were busy with the very necessary task of letting cool water run over your face sideways, sometimes sucking in enough water to swallow a good moutful. You know, total normal people behaviour.

It had gotten to the point where Joe thought he should at least get out of bed and get into a pair of joggers and a T-shirt. To appear a little more presentable, even though he desperately wanted to get into a shower first. However, his thoughts were interrupted when your phone started ringing. Joe looked, and saw your opened bag still on the floor next to him. He could see how your phone lit up the inside of it.

You'd heard it too, and came rushing in.

"Morning," you smiled through squinty eyes, all self-deprecatingly, holding a towel that you used to dry your face and how the fuck were you still this wildly gorgeous?

"Nice bedhead," you pointed out from your crouched position next to the bed, finding your phone and turning on your heel and making your way back over to Joe's bathroom as you answered.

It made Joe raise an insecure hand into his loose curls, doing his best to push them back into place, where they'd usually sit.

You left the towel there, on the floor, and Joe saw how your make-up had left behind the same coloured stains as were on the sleeve of his shirt, still. Not as prominent, but definitely there. It felt like you were leaving your mark to advertise your presence, claiming your territory and Joe thought, yea that's right, you might as well, though no need, because it was already all yours anyway, wasn't it?

"Hey,"

You answered, and spoke so flatly, Joe guessed it was Mark calling.

"Yea, big one,"

You'd left the bathroom door open this time, and using context clues, Joe thought you'd just been asked if you had a hangover.

"Not much– I think I remember enough to know I'm an awful person,"

Joe eavesdropped.

"Except, I am an awful person,"

The tap turned on again, and Joe heard you take sips. Good, he thought. Rehydrate.

"Okay, thanks, but I kind of still am, though,"

"Let's agree to disagree, then. Is Poppy mad at me?"

"Oh, that's good."

"Yea, lunch is fine, can we go and get burgers or something?"

Joe couldn't help but grin to himself. This was exactly how apologies worked with him and Poppy as well. They were always strange sort of non-apologies, where you both vaguely acknowledged something and quickly moved on. Sometimes Poppy and Joe could be livid with each other, and not speak for a few days besides passive aggressive texts back and forth, and then, suddenly, skies would clear up and Joe'd ask if Poppy wanted to come with to some event, and she'd reply, asking what the dress code was and everything would be forgotten and forgiven.

"Noon's a little soon, gotta give me some time to pull myself together,"

"No,"

"Yea, that should be fine,"

"All right,"

You were rounding off your chat, and Joe realised you hadn't mentioned you were over at his place. Not once. Not even slightly hinted towards it a little.

Maybe you didn't want Mark to know.

Oh fuck, Joe'd done the wrong thing by bringing you over to his house, hadn't he?

Of course you didn't want Mark to know.

The sudden rush of panic made Joe finally get up and out of bed.

Quick. Get out of these clothes.

No, wait. Apologise first.

Fuck.

God, you'd woken up in a bed with Joe, probably not even properly remembering how you'd gotten there and obviously, Joe was an awful person. A terrible friend. What the fuck must you be thinking of him right now?! Joe should at least–

"Sorry,"

Joe was stood in front of his wardrobe, both hands on the doorknobs, internally screaming at himself, when suddenly you interrupted the silence from the doorway.

"No, it's–... no worries," Joe shook his head, frowning a little.

"For the mess," you gestured at your own forearm, making Joe look at his own. "I would offer to pay for the dry cleaning, but it'll come out fine in a regular wash, I promise,"

Joe gave a small, crooked smile. The careful kind.

"And, sorry for ruining the wedding shower too, I got way too–"

"I said, no worries,"

He tried. He tried so hard not to make this moment awkward for you. To have it be somewhat normal. Casual. Like he didn't currently actively hate himself for the choices he had made on your behalf.

"Well," you stepped inside, got closer and then picked up your bag from the floor, along with your shoes. "At least let me say sorry for hogging your bathroom for ages then,"

With both hands on the doorknobs of his wardrobe still, Joe's eyes followed you moving around his bedroom like a hawk.

You grinned at his silence.

Deep breaths, Joe.

"All right, I'll get out of your hair," you said, stopping in his doorway and turning back to look at him, jokingly adding, "Because it clearly needs a wash."

Oh. So, you weren't going to mention it, Joe thought.

"Do you want some– I could make you some breakf–" Joe started, but you winced at the mention of food, clearly nauseous still.

"That's all right, I'll find my way out,"

You really weren't going to mention it at all, were you? Waking up in Joe's house. In his bed. Laying on top of him for a second there... it just... it hung in the air between the two of you. It got no acknowledgement from you whatsoever. Well... Joe wasn't going to be the one to mention it either, so who was he to talk, really.

"I'll see you, um," you squeezed your eyes tightly shut for a second, "When's the stag do?"

"In two weeks,"

"I'll see you in two weeks,"

And with a little wave from the top steps of the stairs as you made your way down, you disappeared completely from Joe's view.

Joe forced himself not to wait and listen til you'd close his front door behind you, and instead took insisting steps into his bathroom where he hoped he could wash all this nervous energy down the drain. Scrub himself free of the embarrassment of you not telling Mark you'd slept in his bed. With him, no less.

Now there was a secret between the two of you.

Another secret Joe was going to have to keep from Poppy.

Awful. He was an awful friend.

But if you wanted this to stay between the two of you, Joe was going to respect that, and he would absolutely keep this a secret. Joe could hate himself for what he did and not talk about it to anyone, sure. No problem.

And that was that. Decided. Done.

About thirty minutes later, Joe stepped into his own kitchen, freshly showered, and hungry, and he found an empty yoghurt carton along with a dirty spoon on the side.

Grinning to himself, he traced your steps, found more evidence of you in the empty glass that had been placed in the sink, and, looking back into his hallway, the doormat that had slid out of place.

As Joe went to move it back into its correct spot, perfectly centered in front of the threshold, he was hit with a realisation that knocked the breath right out of him.

On your way out, you must have seen it. Can't have not noticed it. You had noticed it before, and had had it on your mind enough to mention it days after having seen it. There was no way that you hadn't seen that Joe's hallway no longer held the framed cropped photograph of himself and Poppy.

It hadn't even been replaced, he'd just... taken it down the night you had mentioned it and hadn't known what to put in its place.

Joe sighed, realising it was yet another thing he hadn't told Poppy about.

So, three secrets, then. Fine.

The weekend of the stag do came around quickly. The hen do happened simultaneously, and because Poppy had been sad over the fact that she hadn't been able to have you as one of her guests, you'd all decided to finish the night at the same bar. To meet up and 'round off together.

You'd have all of your separate fun, make Mark and Poppy dress up at least a little stupid - Mark was forced into a foam costume of a beer bottle, Poppy just got given a tiara that read Bride To Be - and would make them take belly shots off of strangers before eventually meeting up and having them do a belly shot off of each other.

Maybe not exclusively belly shots. You were sure you'd come up with more creative ways of drinking hard liquor. But shots, none the less. And whoever got most in, would win, and Poppy was hell-bent on winning.

"I'm going to get so drunk," she'd almost said it like it was a threat when Joe came to pick her up that afternoon.

"Oh yea?" Mark had been far too cool about it for Poppy's liking.

"There's not a chance you'll do more shots than me,"

"We'll see,"

And you did see.

It was just past 11 when your group of drunk men followed you into a basement bar after a long pub treasure hunt. You were met with shrieking girls, a very drunk Poppy, and a fairly sober looking Joe.

"Twenty-one!" Poppy shouted, her tiara all tangled up in her hair whilst she held up a bunch fingers that didn't mean anything.

"Shut up," you laughed, reached up to fix her hair a little, "You did not have twenty-one shots,"

"Twenty-seven if you count all the ones I dropped or spat out, too,"

You looked at Joe who smiled at you and shrugged as if to say, she did it. Mark had gotten maybe nine in, you'd lost count if you were honest, and his brain could barely remember his body had two feet down at the end of his legs.

Mark was drunk drunk. The beer bottle costume had been torn to shreds, and was now just a brown weird cropped vest over his clothes. Like an odd lifejacket created by a fashion student.

"Congratulations then," you squeezed Poppy's cheeks as she smiled, but got quickly pushed to the side by Mark who attached himself to Poppy's face, diving in tongue first.

"Yea, all right, that's fine," you scrunched your nose up at the sight and made your way over to the bar to get beers for the lads. Joe joined you.

"Half of those were water, but don't tell her," Joe said over the music. "She'll be devastated."

"Still more than Mark," you laughed. "She's a fair winner."

You both looked back at them as they ate each other's faces.

"What a couple," you jokingly said.

"Very romantic, this," Joe agreed, and you both laughed a little.

You'd just had enough alcohol to be sort of all right and normal around each other. Not drunk enough for Joe to not be hyper aware of the fact that when he'd last seen you, you'd slept over at his place. But, he could pretend not to think it was a big deal.

It was a secret, after all. Had to keep it that way.

You got an order in with a bartender for nine pints, and you took a moment to yourself to feel satisfied with the evening. To feel proud of yourself. Everything had gone exactly according to plan; all the guys that had been invited had shown up on time, Mark's brother was gracious and didn't make any spiteful jokes about him not being the best man, and everyone was having actual fun? And that on a stag do thrown by a woman? What a wild concept.

You started passing out lager, calling names over the music and handing over pints, when suddenly a random dude pretended to be part of your group and jokingly reached for a beer you were about to give to someone else. It made you laugh, give him a face as you avoided his hand, and before you knew it, you had him slurring unintelligible things into your ear.

Drunk men were like this. Predictable like toddlers. The antics of a child.

You kind of let him talk, and tried to decipher whatever he was saying. Tried to find an excuse or joke hidden in his slurred words about him getting one of those drinks from you, as you held a glass out to Mark.

Mark shot you one look and didn't even really see the drink.

Instead, what Mark saw was you being bothered by a drunk stranger that needed to back the fuck off if he knew what was good for him.

He was beside you in an instant, and used an arm to snake in between the two of you, wedging himself in between, his back turned to you, fully staring this guy down. The alcohol in his veins made him feel dangerously immortal, and his face gave nothing away, but the lack of humour displayed said plenty.

"Sorry mate," the stranger held up both palms and stepped back.

"Here," you tried to distract Mark by holding his drink out in front of him, which he took from you, but he kept his eyes on the guy who made his way back to his own friends.

"Mark, it's fine, he was only joking," you smiled, finding it both a little endearing and a little annoying that even in this state, Mark would make sure you were okay. He completely misread the signs, but still. It was kind of him.

When Mark turned around and let his exterior soften a little, you both had your attention directed to a furious Poppy who looked like she was just about ready to smash her glass on the bar and slit someone's throat.

Whose throat, though? you wondered.

"Why do you always do that?!"

Ah. Mark's throat.

"Do what?" Mark seemed unfazed by Poppy's outburst.

"Stop cock-blocking her all the time! She doesn't need you to always be all up in her business!"

Oh no, Poppy was going to go to war for you. An undeclared one, too – you hadn't called for troops. Especially not drunk, emotionally unstable ones.

But Mark retaliated with his own ammunition.

"Um, clearly she does. I take my eyes off her for a second and she ends up in Joe's bed,"

You heard an audible gasp come from the other side, and saw Joe, mouth agape, brows in a deep frown. Shocked, offended, dismayed, and not being funny about it.

"Excuse me?!"

For a second, you saw Poppy question herself as her eyes shot to you, asking, "Didn't you?"

"She did." Mark answered, giving you accusatory eyes.

"Mark!" you scolded.

"You told them?!" Joe couldn't quite believe it.

What was happening right now?

"And so what if she did?" Poppy got back to her war, aiming the barrels of her guns right back on Mark. "She can decide for herself if she–"

"She was drunk!" Mark said it like he was sober himself, which, you know, he very much wasn't.

"Nothing happened!" You looked at Joe, needed him to confirm that nothing had happened, just to settle this whole ordeal. But Joe was trying to follow whatever Mark and Poppy were even talking about with confused eyes, puzzling things together.

"Wait, you didn't tell them?" Why wouldn't Joe tell his best friend about it? That made everything so much weirder.

"Of course I didn't!"

Oh. Wow. Cool way to let you know Joe didn't want people knowing you'd seen the inside of his bedroom. Very subtle. Not at all hurtful in any way. You ignored the misplaced sparkle you felt in your lower stomach when you made direct eye-contact with Joe's wild eyes.

Jesus.

That was probably just the drink. Had to be the drink.

"I'm only making sure that she's okay!" Mark defended himself to his fiancé.

It was a wild crossfire. A whole big cluster-fuck of raised voices and slurred words. Poppy and Mark opposite each other, you and Joe in between on either side.

Poppy was saying all sorts of things on your behalf that you didn't need her saying aloud. Things like, "She's fine! She's an adult woman with a sex life!" and "She doesn't need you to act like a jealous boyfriend!", getting things out that had been festering within her for what seemed ages.

Mark defended himself, and mocked facial expressions the whole time, shouting things like, "I'm sorry for being a great friend," all passive aggressive, which only angered Poppy more.

In the meantime, you and Joe had your own fight going.

And Joe had heard what Poppy had just said, had just implied, and get the fuck out, you were so fucking cute when you got all feisty.

You accused Joe of always being so weird, and fucking rude, whilst he accused you of making him lie to Poppy, causing him to be weird. Like it was your fault that he hadn't been honest, that he had pretended he'd dropped you off at your flat that night, and it offended you to no end.

You were not going to take any blame for this – you'd obviously immediately told Mark that afternoon, when you'd gone to have burgers with him for lunch. The whole conversation had been about the wedding shower. Staying over at Joe's was hardly something you could've left out. And why should you have? You'd both fallen asleep in your clothes. Nothing had happened! And Mark had reacted very calmly to it as well. You'd mentioned it, Mark had gone, "Huh," and that was that. You'd carried on talking about the gifts they'd gotten, and the insane amount Poppy's family had spent on them.

It hadn't been a big deal. At all. So, the fact that Mark brought it up now as if it was a big deal kind of stung.

You were about to direct some anger towards your best friend, but it was difficult to get in between whatever Mark and Poppy had going.

"You always do this!" Poppy pointed an angry finger at Mark, who immediately grabbed onto it with a fist, making Poppy flail her arm to break free from it.

"I've taken shots from mouths of random men tonight and you've not once–" Poppy started, but got interrupted.

"You've done what?!" This was news to Mark and so definitely the wrong thing for one drunk person to say to another drunk person.

"You could've at least let me know," Joe got your attention again, and made you scoff.

"The fact that you even thought it was something to keep secret is fucking weird, Joe!"

No, not cute. Scratch that.

It was hot.

You got hotter when you turned pissy and spat Joe's name into his face. He kind of wanted to keep this going just for the off-chance of you saying his name like that again.

But before Joe could say anything back to rile you up any further, Poppy and Mark both lurched forward and channeled all of their pent up anger into filthy kissing. They just started grossly tongue fucking each other and fuck, wasn't that the right idea?

When Joe took a step to the side to continue whatever conversation he was having with you, he saw that you'd turned around and were moving towards the exit.

Escaping.

Just, walking out. Leaving.

Like you always did.

"Fuck you, I love you so much," Joe heard Mark groan into Poppy's mouth, and Poppy moaned so loudly, Joe could hear it over the music and, yea, all right, maybe leaving was the right idea.

You were fast. Already outside, walking backwards along the edge of the pavement as you eyed the street for an available cab.

Joe stumbled out of the bar and called your name when he spotted you.

You sighed, grumbled some swearwords to yourself as Joe jogged up.

"Listen, it's clear that you fucking hate me," you started when Joe got into ear shot. "And I'm sorry that I told Mark about staying over, I wasn't aware that you didn't want anyone to know,"

What?

"I'm sure it's all very embarrassing for you, but don't accuse me of making you lie – I didn't make you do shit,"

Oh no.

You got it all wrong.

"No, I–"

"You lied on your own fucking accord, don't rope me into shit like that, that's not cool,"

You raised an arm when you saw a cab pull up a little down the road after people had just gotten out.

"But no worries, Joe," you got all sarcastic, and the deranged combination of your frown, tight jaw and the mention of his name again made Joe have to close is eyes for a second.

Deep breaths.

Always and forever, deep, deep, deep breaths.

"I'll make sure to never mention to anyone ever again that I sometimes spend time in the same room as you,"

The cab stopped next to you, and you were quick to duck down and speak to the cabby. Gave him your address before moving to get inside. You saw Joe step closer then, and you immediately raised a finger.

"Don't," you warned, and Joe froze.

You didn't need Joe accompanying you home. You'd be just fine by yourself. Had he not just listened to Poppy going off inside, saying you were fine?

"I don't hate you," Joe blurted out quickly before you'd get into the cab and would disappear into the night.

He couldn't quite let you leave yet.

Not when Joe felt like this.

You just pressed your lips into a polite smile, clearly not buying it and just looked at him a second, then, by ways of saying goodbye, said, "I won't be a burden to you any longer."

You were leaving.

Climbed into the cab and were actually leaving.

No.

Absolutely not.

Joe saw you get into a seatbelt, attention diverted, and decided, fuck it, before he swung the door open again and climbed right over you.

"Joe, what the fuck,"

Joe ignored you, loudly gave his own address to the cab driver too, then instructed to drop you off first as he buckled up.

You stared at him with wild eyes, not quite believing that Joe couldn't just let you go home by yourself.

"I don't hate you," Joe said again, calmer now. "I never said you were a burden to me - you're not a burden to me." Much, much softer.

You, not so much.

"I don't need you to take me home, I can take care of myself!"

"I know you can," Joe's voice was low. "And you have done. Still do."

All fight seemed to have left him completely, and it took you off guard a little. Your breath hitched on an inhale, and you were unsure of why you felt the muscles in your stomach work when you looked at Joe.

But you were stubborn.

"I don't need people looking out for me, I know Poppy's plastered, but she was right – it's so unnecessary," you were genuinely annoyed that Joe couldn't have just let you get a taxi to your flat by yourself. You were tough, God damn it.

"It's just..." Joe trailed, and let eye-contact linger.

"No, it's not just. I don't need you to take care of me!"

You weren't just going to give in. You were going to get Joe to agree with you and then apologise.

"I know you don't!" Joe raised his voice slightly to match yours a little, before he brought it back down again, and said, "But what people need is hardly ever what they want,"

Oh.

Oh shit.

That shut you right up. You felt that sparkle again and it made you clench your thighs.

"And what people want..."

Joe moved in closer a little bit, and fuck all the way off. You wanted to kiss Joe.

"...is hardly ever what they need."

Needed that mouth on yours, and when Joe inched closer, you didn't move back. Did the opposite, actually and looked at his lips.

It was all Joe needed from you.

"Did you know that when you blush," Joe said, voice just above a whisper now, and his nose nearly touching yours, "It goes all the way down your neck?"

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s  @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @jnnyrd @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsmunson @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl

(taglist currently full, sorry)

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #rpf #icallhimjoey #To Have And To Scold #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #part 8

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Kissed by Moonlight (Alucard x Witch! Reader) 8

A/N: So sorry this chapter is coming so late into January. I hope everyone is doing well. Let's get this chapter rolling!

Summary: Love comes with many sacrifices.

PREVIOUS | NEXT

Follow the story on A03!

Chapter 8

He’s up all night as if consumed by grief all over again.

Adrian is familiar with the feeling, the ache within his chest, which devours him whole.

It stings in his body and mind when he rises with the sun, clouded and forgetting the previous night’s memories. He tells himself he will never be vulnerable with another, over and over, but his time spent with you draws that closeness he needs. He was craving more and more of your closeness and it grew easier and easier to feel it with you.

He was sure that if the consumption of wine continued, he would’ve done something he regretted, unravelling all the work to form an attachment and friendship that took so long to create.

It was the wine, he told himself. It causes anyone to do stupid things.

But it’s not the wine, he knows it. He knows it’s an excuse – a poor one to use when facing something far more lethal than a friendship on the line. He knew it had to be wrong, to put you in a position that made you downright uncomfortable, and the soft touches the two of you shared brought him far bigger feelings than he’d ever felt before.

It wasn’t far from trusting someone anyone, he knew it was something that could’ve been done long ago to betray him. And despite it, Adrian fears it could come any day, no matter how much his emotions grow.

He feels like a boy with a childish crush, not fully understanding the entire complexity of it all. It feels far more real than a simple crush: Adrian yearns for it, begs for its stay, to flourish and build into something much more. It’s a desire, a wish to anyone who would listen.

No, it would never happen. He told himself over and over again, cold in the bed as if there had been another beside him. It was far different to that fateful night, and the ghost of arms around him felt more tender than they had ever been. She is my friend, my closest friend.

Adrian had never felt colder.

When the sun reached his eyes, he squinted, as if its heat would finally put him out and catch him ablaze. Anything to end my misery. He wondered if more wine had been left, but it would’ve started a routine he dared not start again. Not with you around.

He said he would never return to that, not when you stayed.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered into the chill of the air, awareness hitting him like a blow to the face. If he was truly wanting to remain sober for you, something was deathly wrong. “I truly am becoming a Belmont.”

He rises with the rest of the day, telling himself he will apologise if you’re still stiff with him, but he will continue as if all the previous days had been the same. Nothing to hide, except for muddled emotions.

It’s the reminder to himself when he looked over the fireplace mantel, sitting cosy above with its pretty dark curls he made by uncoiling dark thread, and brown buttons for eyes, the skin tone as close to yours as possible, that he cannot have you finding this of all things.

-

“Are you ready?”

You draw your eyes over to the blond, readying a chestnut mare, the two of you standing in the castle stables. Adrian tells you that the town is not too far, it may take a bit longer to get back with such a large supply he hopes for. The castle’s food supply was dwindling, and Adrian kept a list of what needed to be restocked.

Adrian was kind in giving you some spare clothes, simply because you didn’t want to get your pretty dresses dirty: simple dark pants with a pair of riding boots, a dark green vest and a white tunic shirt that was too big and you had to cinch in with a belt. You also carried on you a small satchel, a cloak and gloves in case of the cold.

“Yes,” you shuffle closer to him, wary of the large beast in front of you, its beady black eyes staring right into your soul, “it’s a beautiful creature.”

“Indeed,” Adrian answers, soothing the horse by scratching just behind the back of its neck, behind its ears, “she is a gentle soul. She will not be frightened by you.”

You warily stare ‘her’ up and down, inquisitively, “What is her name?”

“Oh,” the Dhampir seems understandably abashed for not giving her one, “I did not think that far.”

“Really?” You stare between him and the beast, surprise blooming in your voice. It only makes sense for you to give her a name now! “How about… Lady? No, no—or maybe—”

“Luna?”

His voice catches you by surprise, but it is a wonderful idea. “Luna?”

“It’s a pretty name,” Adrian strokes her snout affectionately, “I like the other name too.”

“No, I like Luna more.” You follow with a guide of Adrian’s hand in knowing where to stroke Luna; just above her snout, his hands lingering longer than you both expected in this subtle affection before he pulls back. His touch still lingers, and it comforts you the size of his hand compared to yours.

“Shall we get going?”

“Indeed.”

It takes some minutes of humbling yourself to get onto a horse- with Adrian’s help- but you’re far more ashamed of how you embarrassed yourself in front of him. It’s not graceful how you straddle, the discomfort that comes from your legs so far apart and how you’re already dreading when it moves.

 Adrian is quicker than you, almost leaping on with ease as he sits behind you, his hands coming from behind to grab at the reigns.

“Easy,” you think he’s telling the horse to be at ease, but you realise it’s directed to you, his hands reassuring you, “You’re not going anywhere, little witch.”

You’re thankful he can’t see the way your face heats, the way you wish he would do what he said, but you have to stop those thoughts from occurring.

The laugh that comes from you is more of a wheeze, and you correct yourself before you can embarrass yourself further. “Are you talking to the horse or me, Adrian?”

Adrian chuckles lightly at your jab but knows it is all a tease. He guides the horse out from the stable, and almost immediately begins a sprint. The castle seems like a speck in the distance the further you travel, trees whipping past like shadows of figures you thought were human.

Animals could be heard within the trees as if they surrounded you, but instead of fear, you felt the wind whip through your hair, and across your face. You imagined this was what it felt like to be a bird, or the fastest horse free in a field. It was in some way what you imagined what a vampire felt like hidden and part of wildlife.

With the speed and wind on your side, you arrived in the town by the time the sun was highest in the sky. You forgot how lively a town could be: bustling with life. People of all ages, genders and skin tones wandered the market. Mothers with their babes and young children playing around her skirts. Those who came to sell and trade within the markets. Couples of old and young fill the streets with tender displays of affection for one another.

It made you blush when you looked around, realising that some could maybe say the same about you and Adrian looking like a couple. Would Adrian notice this too? Would he feel ashamed to be associated with you?

You didn’t realise you had been distracted by your thoughts when you felt a tender hand shaking you gently out of your thoughts. Blinking owlishly, Adrian stood before you, his golden eyes were wrought with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Overwhelmed, but I’ll survive,” you told him, puffing your chest out to show you weren’t feeling all sorts of worries. “Have you got the list?”

Adrian doesn’t want to shake away his concerns for you, but he unravels the crumpled note from inside his coat pocket to hand to you. You scan over it quickly before you nod. “See you back at the carriage?”

“I must hire one first,” Adrian chortles, “but yes, I shall see you then… be safe.”

Be safe.

It’s enough to make your heart swoon, and you nod, fleeing like a lovesick teenager who just said hi to her crush. You absorb yourself by finding the necessary things, trying your best to not get engrossed by the things around you.

You get mostly through your list before something catches your gaze.

An array of jewels of different sizes and colours greet you: some attached to bracelets, necklaces and brooches, others gaudy and lavish and sitting for all to see. It doesn’t take you long to fully stop and be standing in front of the older woman’s stall, looking over them carefully.

If only I had enough money.

“The peridot would suit you nicely, young lady,” you look up to catch the warm gaze of the woman, her crow’s eyes wrinkled. “Or alexandrite. Very pretty, will catch anyone’s eye.”

“They are very pretty,” you muse, though you already know you won’t be buying anything from her, it is always nice to look around. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Light colours would suit your skin tone,” she begins as she points to different items, holding them as if for you to compare until the next thing to come from her mouth leaves you practically gasping, “I’m sure your husband would agree.”

“Husband?”

“There you are.”

The first thing you notice is the arm that snakes its way around your waist, a body leaning in closely to you as you feel your body freeze on the spot. Adrian is looking over the jewels with you with interest, softly musing to himself, “I knew I’d find you here.”

You’re gawking now, no words are coming to you and it’s only when the old woman brings up impatiently that you’re buying anything that Adrian pulls a bag from his pocket, casually handing the woman the change as if it's nothing. “The peridot I think would look lovely on you.”

He’s moving away, back to the wagon with you following behind like a lost puppy.

“What was that?” You whisper when it’s just the two of you, watching the world go by.

“What do you mean?” He asks as he pulls out the necklace to inspect himself. “I thought this colour would look nice on you.”

“Yes,” you replied, fiddling with the hem of your gloves. “It’s just—”

Adrian seems to read you easily, and he knows when you’re showing some discomfort. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“Far from it,” you laugh it off, though your heart hammers to great lengths, “She had been the one to say I had a husband.”

Your laugh leaves Adrian silent, quieter than he normally is, and it leaves you spiralling. What was he thinking? Was he too uncomfortable with the choice of words?

“Turn round for me?”

You blink thoughtlessly at the question, slowly following as you turn your back on him. You have to stop yourself from gasping aloud when his gloved fingers graze over the back of your neck, pulling back your curls to give him a proper view.

You’re shivering, and you realise what state you’re in, crumbling just from a singular touch, but you try your best to keep your cool. Adrian steps close behind you, his scent is strong in your nostrils as he collects the links of the necklace, putting it around your neck before securing it.

 “It suits you.” He quips, knowing that his words are having an impact on you, before he turns away to the cart, you follow hot on his heels to nag him for making you feel so unsteady.

-

It's sometime later on the cart on your way back when Adrian suddenly touches your hand.

Even when he wears his leather gloves, you can feel the warmth that resonates within him, the raw strength and power that comes from him. He’s a killer, a killer who could’ve overpowered you a long time ago, but who you put your undying trust in.

Your shock freezes you as you look over at him, his gaze on the road ahead, but you know for a fact, that he’s aware you’re staring. “Is something the matter?” He draws softly, looking at you through his peripheral.

“You’re…” You can’t find the right words, but you direct your gaze to his free hand occupied in holding yours, and he follows. “My hand,” he states coolly, though you feel as if there is a hidden motive to this. “You were cold.”

Right, you tell yourself that, and a harsh chill bristles through you before you have time to think it through. He’s smart, too smart.

“Oh." You don’t consider he’s telling the whole truth, but you don’t shake away the way he’s holding your hand. It brings a great comfort to you. You’re still side-eyeing him as he continues on the road, the silence that envelops you is calming and quaint.

You’re very aware that your heart is hammering, the necklace wrapped around your neck is being twirled as you think heavily with your thoughts. Shall you tell him now how you feel? Would that break everything you built with him? It’s only a matter of time before your feelings are split accidentally and your friendship is cursed.

You squeeze his fingers to get his attention, “Adrian, there is something I wish to tell you-”

You’re lurched forward from your seat at the front of the cart, the suddenness of it is all to not still your nerves. The horses snorted in anxiousness, and all around you stood still as if holding their breath. Adrian’s eyes were deadest on something within the trees, and you couldn’t help but feel even more nervous at what could be out there.

“Night creatures?” You whisper to Adrian, but he only gives a glance your way, a way to tell you it was way, way worse.

It was still far too early for creatures of the night to be out, but with the fading sun passing over the horizon of the trees, that was when you spotted them.

They blended with the trees at first, but you could see their silhouettes, standing as rigid as statues, ready as soldiers for war, staring down at you like vultures. They can’t be just human bandits on the road, their presence alone gave off a bad omen. You don’t know how many you count, their clothes blend as one with the growing darkness as the sun settles.

Adrian’s voice is already speaking to you, cutting the silence with a knife.

“Y/N, get to the back of the cart, do not come out until I tell you so,” it’s not a warning, but an order, and you don’t want to waste his time by stalling. His voice is serious, eyes stone cold as he glares down at the figures not far and lurking around the trees.

Adrian easily hops down from his spot as he flicks the scabbard off his longsword. You watch in a mix of wonder and dread at the scene that unfolds.

The figures draw in closer, watching and snarling as Adrian holds a solid line, almost unfazed as he holds the sword close to his face.

His sword glows suddenly as if imbued with holy light, a shocking flow of blue flames engulfs it, glowing and hissing with life. The flames flicker close to Adrian’s face as he readies his action, changing his stance before he is on the closest one.

He’s quicker than your eyes can register, a shadow of crimson shifts as he moves at lightning pace, soon in front of the hooded creature as his sword moves as one with him. He is no longer holding it, rather, the two of them move as if it is a dance, fluid and graceful.

A hiss of a cry lurches into the darkening skies, one is down on the ground, its skin hissing and bubbling as it disintegrates.

Two more are on him with a flash, but Adrian fights with valour and dances around him, swords crashing against the sound of their taloned nails. You’ve not stuck around to know what was happening, having crawled through to the back of the cart for safety.

Once huddled in a spot surrounded by crates, you can only rely on sound: clashes of silver clang loudly around you, bodies fall and you have no clue if Adrian is winning or not. You can only assume he is, from the way you can still hear the glow of his magic sword, twirling around as silent as he is.

Another noise resonates from just outside, creeping behind you and you freeze, before the sound of splattering blood and a gargled choke dies down. You look just to your left to see that the material of the cart is splattered in the thick, viscous liquid, and you shudder that Adrian is here to protect you.

You don’t know how many of them are left, and you can only think that the best thing for you to do is protect yourself if one finds you inside. You scramble to your feet, clumsily looking for any blade that could be of use. You find only a flimsy dagger, and you clutch it close to your chest as you settle in the back of the cart, trying to calm your racing heart.

Something draws in close and you stutter a gasp before you realise it’s too late. The figure pauses almost dramatically, inching closer to the back of the cart, their movement deliberately slow, trying to edge as much fear out from you.

You pray it’s Adrian coming to your rescue, to tell you the area has been cleared, but as the face emerges through the curtains of the entrance to the cart, it’s not those golden eyes you’ve grown to love staring back at you.

They’re red, crimson as the blood that will soon spill from you.

Your screams fall silent as the face erupts into a smile, wide and fanged as the rest of its vampiric kind. The dagger in your grasp feels more like a twig as you stare down, wide-eyed the vampire in front of you.

“What a pretty little thing you are,” his voice is soft yet hoarse, and his red eyes seemed unblinking as he seemed to taunt you from the entrance, blocking one of the ways you could escape. “What a delicacy you’ll be.”

Your fight or flight had kicked in and instead of either of them, you had become frozen in your spot, dreading that this would be the way you died, dying in a smelling cart as a vampire ripped at your throat.

“Don’t worry,” he coos, inching closer, a clawed hand bracing the inside of the cart as he further draws inside, “I’ll make sure I’m quick with you.”

-

Adrian's POV

Blood soaks through the leather of his clothing, but he is thankful it is there’s and not his.

The last of the creatures die within an inch of him, sizzling into nothingness as he stares down what remains. Ash of their bones and the burnt clothes remain, the reminder to anyone who crossed him he would do it a hundred times over.

All in the name of love.

He had once didn’t understand the meaning of love, the way it would pull at his heart and lurch within him. He needed it as if it was necessary like water or food, a hunger that he yearned for in the waking hours of the day to the late hours of twilight.

He is his father's son after all.

Dracula did it in the name of love, and he found he was killing his kind all to keep you safe.

“Y/N, it’s safe.” He calls you to, and he listens for any sound except for the sounds of nature surrounding him. It’s startling how quiet the outside world could be, and how quickly his heart could plummet in knowing something was deeply, deeply wrong.

His heightened senses could not smell blood, not the blood that came from you but what had fizzled and dried. It seemed almost deathly quiet, but Adrian’s mind was racing, the pulling of his heart meant you were not here, or worse, he had failed to keep you safe.

A scream brings his attention, and he wastes no time in hurtling towards the back of the cart, his heart racing.

No, no, no, if he's failed in doing the one thing, he's failed you and himself.

He hasn't even got his face an inch through the gap before he senses something telling him to move out of the way, an object being flung just where his face would be. His head snaps to see a dagger clatter to the dirt just behind him before it turns to what stands before him, a snarl leaving his curled lips.

You were safe, for now, though the vampire he failed to miss had his disgusting fangs inches from the base of his neck, his clawed hands wrapped around you, keeping your body locked to his chest.

 “Son of Dracula, the Messiah,” the vampire greets him, observing him with a lazy smile. You continue to squirm in his grasp, eyes locked onto Adrian for any semblance of safety. “Care to take a bite of your pet first or shall I do the honour?”

His venom is bitter and his anger is boiling at the words he uses for you. How dare he call you a pet!

“Unhand her now,” his voice resonates inside him and he channels his father, the voice he would use and boom across the castle grounds, “I will not ask you again.”

“Ah, ah, one step and I spill her neck open.” The hooded vampire fusses, his movements almost consoling to Y/N as he runs a hand down her cheek, tears drying on her skin. “This one is a waste if you keep it.”

He laughs easily as he stares Adrian down, his next words bringing Adrian close to lopping his head clean off. “Though it is no surprise, you are Dracula’s son, keeping human women around as your pets. It was Dracula’s weakness,” he leant close into Y/N, drinking up her tears as he licked his tongue up the side of her face, “and it will be your undoing.”

Adrian is hunched as if ready to pounce to get him off you, but his golden eyes are never leaving you. A cry leaves your lips when his tongue licks up the side of your face, and you’re shivering, hands clutched around the tightened grip of his forearm.

There is a silent connection that only he can feel when you are close, and it comes from your eyes that stare back at him. They don’t seem as frightened as they did before, and he believes he knows you want him to be calm and not quick to action. Your eyes calm him like a storm approaching, ready to destroy all in its wake.

The vampire holding you runs a hand through the links of your necklace, the hands glimmer in the low light inside and it’s the only thing Adrian sees, trying to not imagine it coated in blood. “Such sweet, sweet blood.” The vampire says, his face drawing into your neck, but you stop him from doing anything further.

With your hands clutching his forearms tightly, Adrian watches how you shut your eyes tight, before shouting the words that resonate through you:

“Ardeo!”

It amazes him every time when you speak that spell, the way flames spill from your hands as easily as water flowing. The endless cycle of nature flows through you, and the power within your hands cries with a mighty scream that neither Adrian nor you know who it’s coming from.

The flames roar as they lick up the clothes of the vampire, and his screams join in fright as they clutch around his arm, a grip in itself that never lets him go. They take and they take, scorching the fabric as they bury deep into the skin.

The vampire is held in place as if something within an endless cycle of life and death ties him to his spot, scorched by your touch as he squirms and screams. He sounds like a pig, Adrian notes, but the sound is as annoying as the actual animal dying.

The vampire is quick though, and though his arm is distorted, blackened and charred, he shoves you away from him, his nails catching you by the skin of your arm, nicking it as you collide with the side of the cart.

Adrian is there in a flash to end it all, to end its misery, to end its hellish torment. He does it for you when his sword is a flash of lightning, quick to the bite and cold as a kiss to the vampire’s neck, coming out the other end before anyone could realise.

Your breath is caught in your throat as you’re unaware you’ve been cut, though the adrenaline dies down as quickly as the body slumps in front of you, turning to ash before your very eyes.

Adrian is beside you, a hand tending to your arm before the sting catches up with you. You hiss in pain, realising what had happened and how deep the wound is. Three long scratches reach down to your elbow, bleeding freely.

“Careful.” He’s quiet with his words, delicate as if treating you like the fine China you are. He rips part of your shirt, wrapping the open wound to stop the flow of blood. He reminds himself he needs to clean it when you return to the castle.

You’re staring at him as he does so, your eyes glazed over as if in a daze, and before he has time to register if you’re okay, he feels something press against his cheek, and he realises it’s your warm lips, chaste and sweet.

“Thank you,” you murmur, leaning into him as the silence fills the cart. Adrian is silent for what feels like forever, but his mind is screaming. You kissed him, and he’s gaping like a dead fish. You kissed him and he feels like a boy all over again.

He shakes out of his thoughts to collect himself, to calm the rush of blood that goes straight to his head, and he feels lightheaded, but he gladly accepts your embrace, cradling you to his chest.

“No... thank you.”

-

Latin Translation:

Ardeo - (I) burn

#castlevania alucard x reader #castlevania fanfic #alucard castlevania #alucard x reader #adrian tepes #adrian tepes x reader #reader x alucard #itstheendofthegoddamnworld writes #reader is a witch #mixed race witch #half black reader #part 8 #witch! reader #alternate universe

[jotawes]

The only person I know is you.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #jojolion #yasugap #Yasuho Hirose #Gappy Higashikata #part 8 #my edits #THINKING ABOUT THEM. ALWAYS.

[angelynmoon]

Eldritch Steve

Part 8

-

Owens arrives in Hawkins as the government always does, a day late and a dollar short. He shows uo with his goons a day after Joyce and Hopper get back from Russia, and Hopper goes off on him.

Steve is amused, leaning against the wall next to Eddie, who is just staring, sometimes Steve forgets that this is his first go around, he's been so calm.

He has nightmares, but not as often as he did before Steve showed him what he really was, showed him just why he had no reason to fear the Down Below. Steve doesn't tell Eddie that he is doubly protected, Wayne has not told Eddie that he and Steve are the same kind of creature, and it is not Steve's secret to tell, so he won't.

Hopper finally trails off, the months of torture in a Russian gulag showing on his face.

Steve almost feels sorry for him, sorry he didn't confirm his death but he had the kids to take care of, the woods to patrol, just because the main gates are closed does not mean the cracks are, cracks like the ones Steve slipped through, like the one Wayne must have slipped through.

Steve has been eating the Demongorgans that came hunting, the demodogs too, making trinkets and charms from their bones.

Hmm, Steve thought as he looked over at Eddie, eyes falling to his hands, maybe he should make a ring next, Eddie would probably like that.

"We really shoud do some tests, Steve." Owens said to him making Steve tune back into the conversation.

Steve looked at Owens, "No, I'm fine."

"You were attacked by a new creature, we should make sure that they don't carry any diseases." One of Owens' doctors said, sounding way too gleeful about it.

Steve stared at her, with a frown, then remembered that for humans the air of the Down Below was toxic, it wasn't for Steve and he'd protected the kids from the hostile air when they had seemed to forget about that fact.

"It doesn't matter, I'm not doing any tests." Steve told them.

"Steve, sweetie, you should let them help." Joyce said softly, it was the same tone she tended to use on Will and Jonathan when she wanted them to do something. It was a tone mother's used on their children.

But she was not his mother, and Steve forced himself to remember that she was Will's mother, that El considered Joyce her mother too, but she had left them while she ran off to Russian, left them vulnerable and alone.

Steve knew what El had gone through, what Owens and Brenner had put her through, she'd told him in stops and starts late at night when nightmares woke her and Steve returned from hunting.

Steve would never forgive Joyce or Owens for that, and he'd never trust either of them with his kids again.

"I said no." Steve said, tone cold, with zero inflection, and he ignored the way Nancy and Robin flinched, it was the same otherworldly tone he'd had in the Down Below.

Eddie's hand found his wrist to ground him, something he'd picked up from Carol, who used it to remind Steve about being Human, but Steve no longer cared as he watched several soldiers tighten their grips on their guns, scents coiling with disgust at the display of affection between two men.

Owens seemed to realize that there was an edge of hostility but he didn't try to defuse it, not yet.

Steve shifted, and his kids seened to understand and moved so they were behind him, Will and El even moving from Joyce and Hoppers' sides, El wrapping her small hand around the wrist not occupied by Eddie's hold.

"There's no need for there to be any problems, a few tests, and then we all go home, like the last few times." Owens tried to placate, but it was clear by the shift that Owens was not in charge here.

"You should make them lower their guns." Eddue said softly, he could almost feel Steve's anger, feel him losing control.

Eddie knew Steve could hurt the soldiers faster than they could fire, he'd seen Steve swallow Demogorgans whole in the blink of an eye but killing the soldiers would not solve anything except satiate Steve's hunger for a time.

"I don't think so. You're going to let the doctors do their tests, and then sign the disclosures." One of the ranking soldiers said, gun coming up more firmly.

"There's no need for threats." Hopper said, tone angry.

"They are not threats." Steve said before Owens could speak.

They all looked at him, because now there was that otherworldly echo in his voice, and it would be so tempting to tear the nearest crack to the Down Below wide open and throw the soldiers to the creatures there that Steve hunted and feasted upon.

But El squeezed his wrist, looking up at him with wide, pleading and terrified eyes, she'd never seen his real form, even Eddie had only seen glimpses of it, only Wayne had seen all of him, just as Steve had seen all of Wayne before they'd come here to the Upper World.

"There are no threats here." Steve said, forcing himself to calm, but he would not be keeping his secret any longer, not when keeping it would put Eddie in danger, Steve turned to Owens, never taking his eyes off the soldier with his gun raised, "I'm the most dangerous Creature the Down Below ever released into this world, and I do not take threats to what's mine lightly."

Steve reached out and watched every single gun in the room fall to the ground in useless pieces.

"You ever threaten My Mate again and you will beg for a death that will not come." Steve said, suddenly in the ranking soldier's face, "I will feast on your flesh for centuries, and before I am done with you I will devour your wife, your child and all those that are yet to spring forth from you disgusting seed. I will make you watch and remind you that your line is ended in this way because you have such hate in your heart. You will wish your bloodline had ended with you."

Steve stared at him and waited for the prey to look away, ignoring the way he trembled in fear, the stench of terror he released.

Once the man looked away Steve turned back to Owens, a little delighted at the way the man had paled.

"No tests, and I expect Eddie's home to be replaced and the same compensation given to him as the children, as per our first conversation." Steve told him, "Now, if you'll excuse us, it's passed the childrens' bedtime, they have a game to play tomorrow."

Without waiting for the other adults to agree Steve ushered the kids out of the room, guiding the younger ones to Eddie's van and giving Nancy a look as he touched Robin's shoulder.

A warning that she would pay if anything happened to Robin while she was in Nancy's care, but Steve let her go with Nancy.

But he would not be letting the children out of his sight while Owens and his men were in Hawkins, not even to their parents, he did not even think he'd be able to leave them in Wayne's care.

He'd lost his spawn once, he would not lose them again.

--

@addelyin @merricatty @lesbiabrobin @apuckishwit @0o-mushroom-o0 @starlight-archer @darkwitchoferie @just-a-tiny-void @swimmingbirdrunningrock @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @goodolefashionedloverboi @adhdsummer @purpleanimeoverart @space-invading-pigeon @lilaclilyroses @nohomoyesbi @plantzzsandpencilzzs @korixae @subversivecynic @flusteredcas @persnicketysquares @freddykicksasses @little-trash-ghost @cupcakesnwhiskey @cats-ate-all-of-my-pasta @planetsoda @paintsplatteredandimperfect

#eldritch monster steve #upside down creature steve #steddie #period typical homophobia #sorry guys #but #feral Steve #protective steve harrington #part 8 #the sorry is for the homophobia not feral Steve #we like feral Steve #From the Rot

[mineralboa]

put together these

#jason voorhees #interwiew #friday the 13th #jason takes manhattan #part 8 #gif

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 8

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥 Series Masterlist

AN: Just wanted to say thank you so much for all the amazing feedback on the last chapter! I work hard on all of these, but I agonized over Part 7 in particular lol. Really wanted to get that balance right. 😉

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Angst, fluff, suggestiveness, implied sexual harassment, and a (sort of) cliffhanger.

Part 8: “Likewise, Baby”

You woke feeling delightfully warm. Your eyes cracked open. Though the room was dim, the window behind you had horizontal blinds that were letting in a bit of light.

You cradled the pillow beneath your head, with your hand tucked under your cheek. And you weren’t alone.

Dean was sitting up against the headboard beside you.

He was already dressed in a faded gray Fire Department shirt and sweatpants, with his long legs crossed over the navy comforter. He sipped at a mug of robust-smelling coffee while holding an iPad in the other hand, occasionally scrolling with a finger.

A slow smile cleared some of the sleepiness from your mind. You should’ve known he’d be an early riser, considering his job, but you were pleasantly surprised that he was just sitting with you, waiting for you to wake up in your own time.

Breathing in deep, you stretched out your legs under the sheets. The sound earned Dean glancing away from the screen, and then his smile aimed at you.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted. You hummed sleepily in response.

“Sleep good?” he asked.

You nodded and braved swimming through the sheets to snuggle closer to his side. After setting aside his mug and iPad, Dean welcomed you over with a hand soothing down your back. You curled against him, resting your head against his chest.

He dropped a kiss onto your wild hair. You still wore his shirt from last night and nothing else, but you felt the warmth of his hand through the fabric, rubbing up and down your back. You slipped an arm comfortably around his middle and let out a soft sigh.

“I see you’re not too chatty in the morning,” he teased.

You made a sound of agreement. “You wore me out, Lieutenant.”

And you hadn’t felt this relaxed, this warm and comfortable and safe, in a very long time.

You also felt Dean’s chuckle reverberate through your chest. His hand came up to pet your hair, and he pressed another kiss on the top of your head.

“Likewise, baby,” he replied. Cheekiness colored his tone. “That record’s gonna be hard to beat.”

You smirked and huffed against his chest. After trying some of the cake last night, he’d given you another sample of his talented fingers, right there at the table. Then you’d tried to start cleaning up the kitchen, only for Dean to distract you once again.

That time, he’d settled behind you at the kitchen sink and goaded you with sinful lips along your neck and wandering hands, until you decided that your earlier promise of “next time” was right now.

You’d turned in his arms and finally found out what he tasted like, after you sunk to your knees and dragged down his sweatpants and took his waiting cock into your mouth…

Needless to say, it was a while before you both made it to a shower, and finally to bed for actual sleep.

Remembering it all made you blush, biting your lip. He let out a quiet laugh as you hid your face in his chest. His fingers slipped into your tangled hair and gently massaged the back of your head.

“Want some coffee?” he asked. You nodded.

“Need some,” you replied. “Let me freshen up first though.”

So you slowly got up, reluctance pulling at every muscle in your body. While you were in the bathroom brushing your teeth and fixing your ridiculous hair, Dean cleaned up the rest of the dishes from last night and poured you a steaming cup of coffee from the carafe. He didn’t remember how you liked it, but his intuition said you liked a bit of sugar and creamer.  

He found himself smiling like an idiot, until something Meg said rolled through his head again.

Goddamn. I am twitterpated.

With that thought, he immediately shook his head to rid himself of it.

You padded back into the bedroom to find your dress…and your panties, for that matter. While you were getting dressed, a phone buzzed on one of the nightstands beside the bed. It was Dean’s phone.

You went over to it curiously as you fixed the straps on your dress. The screen showed a missed text message from last night, around 10:00 p.m., and another one this morning. You read the latest one with a sinking feeling in your chest.

From Marissa: Surprised I didn’t hear back from you last night. The offer still stands. 😘

You knew it was wrong, but your finger scrolled to see last night’s text preview.

From Marissa: Hey, been thinking of you… ❤️ I’m free tonight if you want to come over. You always look so good in my bed. 😉

You were beginning to feel sick to your stomach. You forced deep, even breaths through your nose as you sat down on his side of the bed, and you contemplated doing something you knew you’d probably regret.

You’d seen Dean unlock his phone enough times to remember his passcode. Your thumb hovered over the keypad…

Again, you knew it was wrong. You’d never, ever done this to someone in your life, and if he caught you at this, he’d probably be pissed.

But you couldn’t help yourself. You unlocked his phone, and you found the girl in his text messages. While you saw that he hadn’t even looked at the message, and hadn’t even spoken to her in a couple of months, the previous text messages were a sick siren song that you couldn’t help but fall into.

However, you could only read a few of the old ones before you became disgusted, and you quickly minimized his text messages. You reminded yourself that you didn’t have a right to be reading this, or to be jealous, for that matter.

Those messages were before he even met you. It just didn’t change the fact that reading them, and hearing his voice in your mind while talking explicitly dirty with another girl still stung. 

Another thought whispered in your mind. You’re already here. Might as well…

Biting your lip, your thumb shook as you went into his contacts. You saw familiar names: Benny, Cas, Dad, Eileen, Gordon, Jo…but those were followed by unfamiliar ones. Haley, Jackie, Kat, Lisa, Lauren, Marissa, Nadia, Olivia, Priya, Rachel, Serina…

What the fuck! He’s got the whole damn Kansas Directory of Sluts in here! you thought in both alarm and disgust.

So consumed were you that you didn’t hear Dean coming down the hall, nor did you see him appear in the doorway to his own room with a fresh mug of coffee. 

“Hey, so what do you want for breakfast…” His question died on his tongue the moment he saw you with his phone (and an angry, perturbed look on your face). His brows furrowed as he entered.

You were caught red-handed, and you knew it. Guilt and hurt and anger radiated under your skin in equal measure, though you set his phone down for him on the bed and met his eyes.

“You got a booty call from Marissa,” you said. “She misses you in her bed.”

“So you snooped through my phone?” Dean levied at you. The warmth in his tone was gone, though his still handed you the mug of coffee and grabbed the phone. His contacts were still open on the screen.

“I shouldn’t have,” you testily agreed. “Believe me, I regret it now.”

You stood, set down the mug on the nightstand, and began searching the room for your sandals. You didn’t think you could stick around for breakfast.

Dean’s jaw locked, and he let out a sharp breath as he watched you.

“So you’re leaving?” he asked incredulously.

“Why, don’t you need to check on your side piece?” you shot back.

Dean huffed in irritation. You bent over to put on a sandal and nearly toppled over as you lost your balance. He got up, but you managed to catch yourself and held up a hand against him helping you.

You straightened and looked up with him with steel in your eyes, where last night had been all softness and fire. It reminded him of when he saw you square up against your boss. No nonsense, no inches given. He remembered then that you were a real pistol when you needed to be.

“Okay, Nancy Drew. I’m sure you saw that I haven’t hit up that girl in months!” he said. He wanted to be patient with you, but his temper was already snapping at the invasion of his privacy.

Yours was snapping right back, as your hands went to your hips.

“Dean, you’ve got an entire catalogue of ‘Pussy On-Demand’ in your phone!”

Frowning, Dean held his hands out wide in a what do you want from me gesture.

“Look, I was honest with you about my past,” he tried, but you cut in quick.

“Is it your past?” you asked. Your heart pulsed with pain at the thought, but you had to ask. “Or were you still talking to these girls, even seeing these girls while you were ‘wooing’ me? I mean…I guess I don’t have a right to complain. We never explicitly said we were exclusive—”

“All right, stop. For the love of Christ,” Dean said in sheer frustration. He approached you with caution. You were still frowning and testy, but you allowed him to grasp your upper arms.

“First of all, I didn’t even see that text. Because I was preoccupied with you. Second, no I wasn’t seein’ anyone but you after our first date. And third…” His lips pressed together.

This last one was tough for him to admit, even embarrassing. You were waiting for him though, probably with the last shred of benefit of the doubt you had left for him.

He sighed, brushing your arms with his thumbs. “Before last night, I hadn’t had sex in a couple of months.”

Your brows went high at that one, only because the weight in his voice told you that two months was a big deal for him. (For you, it was child’s play.) Remembering that laundry list of names, though, you had to agree.

You eventually relented, your shoulders relaxing a little.

“I’m sorry I looked through your phone,” you said again, more sincerely this time. “I’ve never done that to anyone, ever, and it’s not who I am. It’s just…you’re making me a bit crazy.”

A smirk pulled at Dean’s lips. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

You reluctantly smiled and pushed at his chest with a half-hearted hand. Sighing, he pulled you in close. You allowed yourself to rest against him, and even slip your arms around his middle and tangle your fingers into the back of his shirt. Dean pressed his lips to your hair.

“I might be playing a lot of this by ear, but I told you. I’m not playing around,” he said. “I want to try being with you. Just you.”

After a moment, you nodded. You looked up at him, resting your chin on his chest.

A smile tugged at your lips.

“So what you’re saying is, you’re my boyfriend.”

Dean’s smile grew as well. “I mean…yeah. If you’re on board.”

You nodded and leaned up for a kiss. “I could be persuaded.”

He met you there with both passion and sincerity as his lips glided over yours. Your fingers dug into the muscles in his back, spurring him to hold you tighter against him. The weight of his hands felt deliciously good against your lower back. 

“Stay for breakfast,” he said between heated kisses and panting breaths. “I’ll cook this time.”

You remembered that you had to check on your grandfather. You’d texted him before going to bed that you were staying over at Dean’s place. George had already been asleep, but he answered you this morning that everything was fine. Still, your instincts warred between wanting to make sure, and staying here a bit longer.

Your curiosity was piqued, however.

You paused against Dean’s lips. “You cook?”

He looked down at you with offense at your surprised tone.

“I’m a damn good cook,” he said, his brow waggling. “What do you want? Pancakes, eggs and bacon, or something more chill, like oatmeal or something?”

Your stomach began to percolate at the mere mention of food.

“Yes,” you replied with a grin.

Dean’s amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Someone’s hungry. Worked up an appetite, huh?”

“Starving,” you admitted. Your hands moved down his back, feeling how some of the muscles there contracted. Looking up at him through your lashes, you added, “But I’ll take whatever you give me.”

Dean laughed and kissed you again. 

“Oh, I’ll give you plenty, naughty girl,” he promised against your lips.

Thank God it’s Saturday, you thought. You inhaled the coffee Dean made for you before taking another sip. It was delicious, and you had to make a mental note to buy the same brand the next time you went to the grocery store.

You peered out the small kitchen window while the smell of food continued to stir your appetite. Really is a cute neighborhood. The building overlooked a nice little park. Already there were people jogging, walking their dogs, parents with their children heading to the playground.

You liked where you lived as well, but the two-story house was a bit much just for you and George. It also needed some work done, of which you hadn’t gotten around to taking care of with how busy you’d been lately. Not to mention your car, which was occasionally starting to shake when you accelerated past 50 miles per hour.

I really should ask Dean to look at it. Bet he’d relish the challenge of reviving an old car.

Then a small ding alerted you to the toast, now ready to be buttered. You were helping with the smaller things while Dean worked on the eggs and bacon.

You also heard the front door unlock. Soon enough a tall man with dark, long hair down to his shoulders entered the kitchen with a workbag on his shoulder and a small overnight bag. He wore a smart-looking, but simple suit, chestnut brown.

“Hey,” he greeted Dean, but his hazel eyes widened a fraction when he saw you. “Oh, hi there.”

Dean turned his head and smiled.

“Hey, Sammy,” he said. “Come meet my uh…my girlfriend.”

Your face heated up at the way he glanced at you with that smile.

Hear that? Official girlfriend status.

You also tried to hide your excitement as you introduced yourself to Sam Winchester. He shook your hand with an amiable look.

Dear God, you thought, noting his height, and his broad shoulders that rivaled Dean’s. Winchesters are massive.

“Finally. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said.

“Same here,” you agreed, matching his smile. “Really good to meet you, Sam.”

“And how is it you always make it right on time for breakfast?” Dean teased. He was pouring the scrambled eggs out of the pan and into a large bowl.

“Just good timing,” Sam replied, smirking as his brother rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, how’s Eileen?” Dean asked.

“Good. She had her students help her decorate the classroom for the fall this week,” Sam said.

He fished out his phone and showed you and Dean the pictures. The two of you had your heads bowed close to the phone. Dean wore a smile at the sight, while you cooed at the adorableness of Eileen with her students.

They seemed to be elementary school age (between seven and ten years old, if you had to guess). They’d done the Thanksgiving turkey hand for arts and crafts, even though the holiday wasn’t for a couple of months. One of the boys had taped it to his forehead.

“They’re so cute!” you gushed. “I remember doing that in elementary school.”

Dean shot you a grin. “You like kids, huh?”

Sam’s brow quirked. Mr. Serial Bachelor was joking like that already? 

Meanwhile, you sent Dean a narrowed look, despite your blushing smile. Never mind that you two had just established the seriousness of your relationship about five minutes ago.

Honestly, you were surprised that having kids was even on his radar…but for the first time, maybe it was starting to be on yours too.

And that alone was a shocking revelation, considering how career-driven you’d been up until now. It was even somewhat scary, just how quickly this man had buried his way into your heart.

“Yeah, and what if I do?” You laughed and carded your fingers through his hair, but you made sure to tug on it a bit. “Clearly I need to be careful with you.”

“That’s probably best, as a general rule,” Sam interjected. He smirked at Dean’s flat look.

“All right, all right,” Dean waved at him. “Help me get the plates.”

The three of you talked and joked and laughed all throughout breakfast. You and Sam had a fair amount in common, speaking of your respective experiences in college, with him following into law school and you with culinary school. He told you more about his work at the District Attorney’s office, and about how he and Eileen had met.

Then you and Dean told the story of how you two met, from each of your perspectives. You recounted how it had been Nick’s fault that you’d been in that elevator to begin with, grabbing his latte, of all things. You remembered how goddamn hot it had been in that elevator, how no one could hear you, how you’d been doing your best not to freak the hell out.

And then you heard his voice. “Fire Department!”

The save was pretty standard, from Dean’s perspective. But he’d noticed you, even in your coffee-stained blouse and skirt. He remembered the way you lost one of your shoes.

“And I mean, ridiculous fucking high heel,” Dean said to Sam. He held his hands apart several inches, making you laugh at his gross exaggeration. “I got no clue how she walks in ‘em.”

Dean also relished retelling the moment you later stood up to Nick with gusto.

“I thought she was gonna chuck it at the guy’s head, Psycho style,” Dean said. He mimicked holding the shoe like a knife stabbing from above.

You laughed and covered your face with your hands. “I wasn’t that bad!”

Dean chuckled, but he rubbed your shoulder.

“Nah, it was awesome. I remember thinkin’, this girl’s a badass.”

You lowered your hands and glanced over at him, letting your smile peek through.

“Oh yeah?” you asked.

“Class and style, baby,” he said, giving you a wink. You shook your head, despite your amusement, and how his words touched you.

“Says the guy who literally rappelled from the roof like Batman,” you said with a smirk.

“Ooh, Batman. Here that? I’m taking it.” Dean’s brows rose, and he shot Sam a grin.

To which his younger brother rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re Batman.”

You giggled into your hands. His brother’s sarcasm was nothing new, but Dean enjoyed seeing you laugh after all the tension this morning. He took one of your hands away from your face so you couldn’t hide anymore.

You looked over at him. When your eyes met his, somehow you were captured again.

Sam watched carefully from his side of the table. He watched his brother, and was hardly able to believe what he saw. He continued to sip his coffee, all the while hiding a certain smile behind his mug.

You left the apartment a short while later, despite offering to help clean up. Dean knew you wanted to get back to your grandfather and didn’t want to hold you up, but he still walked you to the door and made sure you had everything you needed before you left (including a leisurely goodbye in the doorway that had his old neighbor Gladys tsking as she walked by).

He eventually returned to the kitchen to help Sam finish cleaning up, thumping him on the back while Sam was trying to wash the pans in the sink. Sam uttered a grunt, but his lips edged at a smile at Dean’s obvious good mood.

“I take it last night went well?” Sam asked knowingly.

“Yeah, good thinkin’ on staying at Eileen’s,” Dean smirked back. His mind rewound the evening: having you cook for him, the shenanigans that interrupted your baking lesson, and also the baking, and the cleaning up.

His smile only dropped a bit when he remembered the arguing part.

“Well, there was a rough patch,” he admitted. At Sam’s questioning look, Dean explained how you’d looked through his phone…and what you’d seen on it.

“She apologized, but it was a tough go of it for a second,” he said.

Sam had finished the dishes by now. He stood leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed. He sighed through his nose.

“You want my advice?” he asked.

Dean quirked a wry smile. “Something tells me I’m gonna get it anyway.”

Sam nodded. “You just need to take the ‘L’ on this one. Don’t hold it against her.”

Dean’s brows knitted together as he frowned.

“Oh yeah?” he said in full sarcasm. “Is that what I need to do?”

He loved when his brother when full Dr. Phil on him.

“Listen,” Sam said. “Yeah, what she did was wrong, but her concerns were understandable.”

Dean took that in, carding his fingers through his hair.

“You can’t assume that she can read your mind, Dean. On your intentions, on how you feel—any of it.” Sam leveled him with a more serious look. “She’s taking this as it comes, just like you are. And she’s taking a chance on getting hurt, just like you are.”

Damn it, Dean thought. He especially hated when his brother made sense.

He was quiet for a moment, until something occurred to him.

“You think Dad would like her?” he asked.

At that, Sam’s smile broke free. Dean’s gaze flattened in annoyance.

“What?” he asked.

“If you’re willing to subject her to Dad, I know you’re serious.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He stole the last leftover piece of bacon from Sam’s plate and headed for his room.

I think he’d like her.

“So how’s it been going?” Andréa asked you.

The two of you were finally getting a chance to have lunch together in the staff breakroom, for the first time in about a month. You blamed it on your busy schedules, but you knew it also had to do with the fact that you both had new men in your lives.

You had been reaching out to your friend a couple of times a week to check in, sometimes even offering to grab dinner or catch a movie after work, but Andréa always seemed to have an excuse. You didn’t think she was pulling away from you intentionally… It did hurt though.

You just supposed you should be grateful that she showed up out of the blue in your office, asking if you had time for lunch.

“Work is…well, the usual,” you replied.

Nick was still an asshole who made your life harder and more stressful with every interaction. He changed his mind on deadlines, or better yet, forgot them entirely. He often got drunk while schmoozing with CEOs and representatives of potential accounts.

He also sucked at paperwork, which meant you often had to redo it, or get his assistant to do it. And he still pitted you and Josh and other teammates against one another (Paul had quit last week due to the pressure).

But all that, you could handle. What bothered you more were the “harmless” comments threaded with innuendo. The lingering looks he gave you, seizing you up from breast to toe.

You’d taken to wearing pants exclusively, instead of skirts, and flat shoes instead of heels, just to try and put him off. You maintained your professionalism and always kept several chairs between you and Nick in meetings. Though you dreaded moments where you had to be alone with him. Those were the times you were on your guard the most.

Thankfully, he hadn’t done anything outrageous since the last time he was drunk before a meeting. As in, you hadn’t had to threaten going to HR again…yet.

And these things you kept to yourself. You didn’t want Andréa to worry. Or worse, for her to try and get involved, and earn Nick’s eye on her next.

“What about with Dean?” Andréa asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

You brightened with a smile. That you would happily share.

“Good. Like really good,” you said. “I mean, we had our moments this weekend, but…I really think this could work.”

Andréa shot you a sly look, though her smile said she was happy for you.

“Oh wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so smiley,” she teased. “What is it with these firefighters at Firehouse 25? God sprinkled them with something special, I swear.”

You eyed her with amusement. “Oh yeah? How are you and Benny doing then?”

And that seemed to be the exact question she was waiting for. She turned to you fully and grabbed your hand.

“Oh, girl. I have so much to catch you up on,” she said.

You smiled at her indulgently. You truly wanted to hear everything she had to say. You wanted to hear about her disastrous first meeting with Benny’s family, especially with his father. You wanted to hear about how she was able to turn it all around with a bit of charm and a few funny stories.

You wanted to hear about their impromptu sailing trip last weekend, and the plans they were already making to go to Greece next summer if all went well. Andréa and Benny were clearly a whirlwind romance in the making, the stuff of good old-fashioned rom-com legend, and you wanted to hear the story unfold.

You just couldn’t help a small thought in the back of your mind…that she wasn’t quite as invested in your life as you were in hers.

A couple of weeks later, you parked your old Camry on the side of the road. You didn’t want to block any part of the driveway at Firehouse 25.

Oh good, they’re not on a call, you thought. The truck was there, along with the Squad truck and the ambulance. A full house.

You smiled and first smoothed down your sweater dress. It was mid-November with a chill on the air, and it also gave you an excuse to break out one of your favorite dresses, made of warm brown wool, but still cute with your knee-high boots. 

You pulled out the large plastic dessert carrier resting on the passenger seat. It held not one, but two large cakes. You wanted this treat to last a little bit longer than a few hours this time.

You walked up the driveway, smiling as you greeted the Squad men playing poker at a square table just outside the building. A couple of them eyed you in curiosity, and maybe even with recognition. Though you had to swallow a bit of nerves as you pushed past the familiar glass doors of the firehouse. 

The first person you saw (that you actually recognized) was Meg. She sat in the common room with her feet crossed and perched on the dining table. She was reading a book, but her head perked up when you came in. She stood and left her book on the table as she waved you inside.

“Hey there,” she said.

Remembering what happened the last time you met the paramedic at the Roadhouse, your smile was a bit thin.

“You must be real special,” she’d remarked, gesturing at Dean. “He usually doesn’t bring his girls around here, where he actually likes to hang out. Guess that’d mean he’d have to see ‘em again with the lights on.”

Despite the less than stellar memory, you tried to be polite.

“Hey, Meg. How are you?” you asked.

“Sober,” she answered frankly. Her head tilted as she let out a short, self-deprecating sigh. “Uh, sorry about last time. I have a bit of a mouth when I’ve had a few.”

Your smile became a bit more genuine. Before you could say, That's okay—

“Oh no, that’s her resting state,” a familiar voice wryly interjected.

You brightened when you saw Dean striding in from down the hall. He met you with a grin, as well as a kiss that lingered on your lips. Meg’s brow rose.

He eventually pulled away, but his hand stayed on the small of your back. He looked happy to see you, and it secretly warmed you down to your toes.

“To what do I owe this surprise?” he asked, his green eyes gleaming. He noted the dessert carrier hanging from your hand with interest.

“I come bearing gifts.” You raised your offering. Dean took it from you with both hands and boyish glee.

“Mmm, I do love me some cake,” he said, licking his lips.

You had to laugh. Firefighters do love food.

Or maybe it was just Dean.

“Remember, you’re meant to share,” you teased.

“No promises,” he muttered. But he still brought it over to the kitchen. Even Meg followed the two of you, peeking over his shoulder in curiosity.

“What kind is it?” she asked.

You gave her a smile. “Orange, cranberry, and poppyseed, with an orange glaze.”

Her eyes widened, but you could tell she wasn’t sure if she was intrigued or not.

“Trust me. It’s like lemon poppyseed, just more orangey,” you promised. “And even a bit sweeter.”

Dean grinned at his friend. “She went to culinary school.”

He said it proudly, which warmed you. Though you bit your lip in slight embarrassment.

“You don’t have to say that,” you said with a nervous giggle.

“Why not?” he protested. “It’s true.”

Meg surveyed you both with a knowing smirk while Dean set up your cakes with a cutting knife and some paper plates.

“It’s still early, but the droves will come soon enough,” Meg said wryly, and she nodded at Dean. “Have you shown her around yet?”

His brows rose. “Around the house? No, as a matter of fact…”

He turned to you with a smile and offered his hand. ��Got time for a quick tour?”

You smiled. It was Saturday, and you had a rare morning where you had nowhere else to be.

“I do now,” you agreed. And you took his hand.

Dean led you past the humble kitchen to the barracks, where there were several rows of cots. They were empty and made up with white sheets and dark green comforters.

“We’re all busy by now, but we stay quiet around here,” he explained. “Especially during night shifts, of course.”

He showed you where the bathrooms and showers were, along with passing by a large, closed office. Through the frosted doors, you could see a man talking firmly into a desk phone.

“Is that the Chief?” you asked.

Dean nodded. “Yep, that’s his office. Good ole’ Bobby.”

A scoff made both of your heads turn. Benny gave his friend a wry brow raise.

“Only this one gets away with callin’ him that,” he said. Though he gave you a kind look and touched your shoulder. “How are ya?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you smiled at him. It was just a bit weird for you, knowing he was dating your best friend.

You felt like you knew him from everything she’d told you, but you hadn’t actually been around him that much in person. Everything you knew about him had been pieced from stories you’d heard from either Andréa or Dean.

“I hear ships are sailing with you and Dre,” you quipped.

Benny chuckled with an imaginary tip of his hat. “Well, you’ve heard right.”

At Dean’s slightly curious look, Benny filled him in about his and Andréa’s sailing trip last weekend.

“Who the hell goes sailing in Kansas?” Dean remarked.

You had to laugh a little. “Andréa’s family owns a yacht club. They go boating on the river, mostly. But she goes to Greece every year…and I hear you’re planning to join her.”

Again, you looked over at Benny with good-natured teasing. He took it with a smile and a nod, even taking Dean’s raised eyebrows. His growing smile told you that his friend would be taking some shit about this later. And Benny knew it too.

“All right, I see you guys were in the middle of somethin’. Let me not get in the way,” Benny graciously bowed out with another chuckle. 

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, Captain, my Captain over here’s gotta find a parrot,” Dean ribbed.

Benny just rolled his eyes and gave a lazy wave as he departed.

You gave your boyfriend a bemused look. “What is he, a pirate?”

Dean shrugged. His grin was contagious.

“I just can’t picture that dusty lumberjack on a yacht,” he said. “God, what’s the world coming to?”

You shook your head and bit your lip against a giggle.

“All right, what’s next on the tour?” you asked.

Dean hummed, but after a moment, he brightened with an idea…and a sly look. He took your hand and led you over to a small side room behind the barracks. He opened the door and led you into what was essentially a cubicle, complete with a desk, chair, desktop, and a document filing unit, except it also had a cot in the far corner.

“Step into my office,” he said, gesturing with a hand. You gave him an impressed brow raise as you ventured inside.

“My man’s got his own office? Complete with a bedroom, I see.”

“Yeah. Benny’s got one too, since he’s Captain of the Rescue Squad,” said Dean.

You made note of this with another impressed hum. You then sat down in his comfy office chair and twirled around, before you began perusing his desk area. It was a bit cluttered for your tastes, but you had a feeling Dean was an “organized chaos” kind of guy.

Dean remained standing with casually crossed arms. He watched you trace a finger around one of the picture frames he had on his desk, though he had a few.

There was one of him and Sam after he graduated from law school, cap and gown and all. Another was one of Sam, Dean, and John on one of the rare camping trips they did when they were kids, for Dean’s 13th birthday.

“That’s my dad,” Dean supplied. He pointed at the man, handsome, salt-and-pepper beard, dark eyes, and broad shoulders. Your brows raised of their own accord as your eyes blinked wider.

“Wow, look at that silver fox. I see where the handsome genes came from,” you teased.

Dean’s lips curved in amusement. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

You gave him a sidelong glance and playfully jabbed at his side. But you returned your attention to the last frame.

The picture inside was of a beautiful blonde woman, holding a newborn baby bundled up in her arms. You could see his small pink face peeking out, as well as a little boy cheese grinning over her shoulder. Your attention lingered on this one.

“Is that…”

“Yeah. That’s my mom,” Dean confirmed.

“She’s beautiful,” you said softly.

“Yeah, she was,” he said with a nod. And a thought filtered through his mind, one he spoke without really thinking about it. “Wish she could’ve met you.”

You turned to him more fully then, with a bit of wonder hidden behind your eyes.

“Yeah?” you asked.

Something in Dean’s chest clenched, but he grazed your cheek with his thumb and nodded, giving you a reserved smile. It hadn’t been that long at all since he met you. Just a couple of months. He couldn’t deny it though. It was true.

“I think she would’ve liked you,” he said with a shrug. Like it wasn’t such a big deal.

You both knew that wasn’t the case.

You stood out of his desk chair and went to him, gripping the front of his gray lieutenant’s shirt. You leaned up on your toes for a kiss that almost immediately deepened. Dean cradled your cheek with one hand and pulled you in close by your hip with the other, but you were the one who licked sensuously into his mouth.

He hummed deep in his throat, pleased and a little surprised when you pushed at his chest. He took your cue to step back, leading you along with him when he sat down on the edge of the neatly made cot. He guided you down by your hips, but you didn’t sink down into his lap the way he expected.

Instead, you slotted his right thigh between your legs and took a comfortable seat. You slid up his thigh with slow friction, giving him a small smile as you twined your arms around his neck. A smirk graced his lips as he held your hips.

“Don’t pretend like this wasn’t your plan all along,” you said.

You’d caught the look in his eye before he led you into his office. It made you wonder (with a tremor of unease) just how many women he’d given the “grand tour” of his office…

But you couldn’t let yourself fall down that train of thought. It was a futile thing that would ultimately just upset you, and no doubt would frustrate him. Whatever he did before he started dating you was his business. You just had to focus on the here and now…

And right now, you could already see the half-pitched tent in your boyfriend’s uniform pants as he began to touch you.

“You’re the one who came prepared, Little Miss Easy Access,” Dean remarked. His hands slid up your thighs, bunching up your dress the farther he went. Your lower belly clenched in anticipation when he brushed the edge of your panties. “Maybe I wasn’t the only one with a plan.”

A more amused smile grew across your face, despite the blush warming your cheeks. Something had just occurred to you.

“There’s no way we’re allowed to do this here,” you whispered, but Dean’s grip on your hips was already encouraging you to rock against his thigh.

“No one’s gotta know,” he replied. His voice was deeper, laced with grit. “Just try to stay quiet.”

AN: ...🫣 Sorry for leaving it there lol. But hey! Official girlfriend status! 😂 And how'd you like how they dealt with the Marissa of it all, and the reader meeting Sam for the first time?

Of course, there will be more in Part 9.~

Next Time:

“Where’re you goin’?” he teased.

You let out a quiet laugh. “I think we’ve pressed our luck enough for today.”

Dean leaned in to kiss your cheek. His lips then veered off toward your ear.

“But see, I’m pretty damn sure that pussy’s still on fire,” he said.

The depths in his voice made you shiver. Your spine undoubtedly prickled with arousal again. He smiled.

“You understand, I can’t let you go just yet.”

Keep Reading: PART 9

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Likewise Baby #Smoke Eater #Part 8 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

[apiculturegal]

NOT canon to the selkie!au but TECHNICALLY this would be part 8. i wanted to test out a comic format to see if that would be better for telling the story, and i DEFINITELY need practice drawing comics but for right now i think it’s okay! if i do end up doing a light novel format for the selkie!au instead of a regular fic, i’ll be posting it here as well as on ao3 and twitter.

#toh #the owl house #art #toh fanart #fanart #huntlow #my art #digital art #toh hunter #huntlow selkie au #toh fae au #possessed #tw mild body horror #part 8 #comic #manga #manga style #toh comic #shallow waters

[aintinacage]

tom holland tuesday - part 8

#tom holland tuesday #tom holland #thomas holland #hot celebrities #celebrity #celebs #celebrities #hot celebs #celebritystyle #celebritylife #celebrity crush #part 8 #unilad #crush #famous #famous actors #famous men #cute #cute guy #cute men #cute actor #the crowded room

[chalktaco]

part 8

[First page] [Previous page] [Next Page]

dont worry tail will be explained <;3

#snorpy x chandlo #chandlo x snorpy #snorpy fizzlebean #snorplo #bugsnax snorpy #chandlo funkbun #bugsnax chandlo #chandlo #bugsnax #bugsnax comic #snorplo comic #my art #chalktaco #part 8 #Gainz