#lil' hunt universe

[justabigassnerd]

Never Your Fault

Pairing - Ethan Hunt x daughter!reader

Word count - 6,254

Warnings - MAJOR DEAD RECKONING SPOILERS, death, injuries, blood, knives, violence, guilt, grief, nightmares

Summary - after witnessing a traumatic loss, you begin to blame yourself. can your dad help you out or is he too wrapped up in his own grief?

A/N - the first official part of the lil' Hunt series y'all! I'm so excited for y'all to read this I've been working so hard on it! it was really fun exploring these new dynamics and I genuinely enjoyed writing this so much (even if it was super painful at times). anyways I won't ramble anymore, as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Most people go to places like Italy on their holidays or maybe even visiting loved ones, but you and your dad? You travelled to Rome in search of a woman who had half of a key that was crucial in the shutting down of an ever-powerful AI named The Entity.

Your dad had been tracking Grace since she made off with half the key in the Abu Dhabi airport and had managed to track her down in Rome before she escaped his grasp once more. He, Ilsa, Benji, and Luther managed to track where Grace’s next move might be and it was in Venice, at the party held by someone Ethan and the IMF had dealt with before, Alanna Mitsopolis, better known as the White Widow. They figured if Grace was heading to Venice, then the person who hired Grace must be at that party or in the area.

Ethan decided that he and Ilsa would go to the party to see if they could track Grace or her buyer down while you, Benji, and Luther remained in the safe house and ran surveillance while the two were at the party.

“y/n, be good for Benji and Luther.” Ethan says as he tugs on his blazer, folding the collar down and checking he looked alright in the mirror before Ilsa walked in.

“Seriously? I’m not a kid you know.” You scoff jokingly as Ethan looks over at you with a grin.

“Well gotta put the warning down just in case. And if you want to leave the safe house, make sure Benji and Luther know where you are and-”

“Stick to lit areas and always stay alert. I know dad.” You finish his sentence for him, smiling up at him as he lets out a soft, breathy laugh.

“You’re too much like me, you know?” Ethan says softly, reaching out to tug you into his arms for a quick hug before pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, dad.” You say quietly, squeezing him a little before pulling away.

“I love you too, y/n/n.” Ethan replies before he releases you and he and Isla gather the last of their stuff and bid a last goodbye to the three of you remaining in the safe house before leaving.

“You’ve taught her well, Ethan. She’ll be just fine.” Ilsa says with a gentle smile upon seeing the hidden worry in Ethan’s eyes. She knew how much he worried about you and your well-being, but she also knew that he was protecting you as best he could. The two make their way out onto the streets of Venice and head in the direction of the party to begin their investigation.

Not long after you heard that Ilsa and Ethan had arrived at the party, you stretched your arms above your head and stood up from your chair once you relaxed.

“Guys, I’m going out for a walk. I haven’t gotten a chance to explore yet.” You say as you grab your jacket and throw it on before grabbing your phone.

“Location on?” Luther asks, glancing at the phone in your hand as you nod.

“You know it.” You reply as both Benji and Luther see your phone location appear on their screens.

“Yep, there you are. Be safe out there y/n.” Benji says, looking at you worriedly as you smile softly at him.

“Always am.” You say reassuringly, bidding Benji and Luther goodbye before exiting the safe house and beginning to wander the streets of Venice. You didn’t have a set location in mind and since it was relatively quiet out on the streets you decided to let your legs take you wherever they wanted to go. You’d never been to Venice before so you took in every sight you came across, knowing that you may not come back to this beautiful city again after this mission. You find yourself at one point sitting on a bench near one of the canals and admiring the stars in the sky, you always found the night sky so calming.

Meanwhile, at Alanna’s party, Ethan and Ilsa had tracked down Grace and discovered that Alanna was the one who hired her to steal the half of the key that Ethan had attempted to acquire in Abu Dhabi. They found out that Alanna was planning to sell it on to someone else and despite Ethan’s best efforts, he couldn’t convince her to not sell it. Gabriel stood before the four sat on the plush sofa and revealed that The Entity had been listening in and had infiltrated the party thanks to Gabriel and his men.

“Ethan Hunt. The Entity knows all about you. And your precious little daughter. y/n, is it? Yes, that’s the one.” Gabriel starts, noticing Ethan’s body tense up at the mention of your name and a twisted grin covered his face. He was getting the reaction he wanted and now he was going to have Ethan play right into The Entity’s plan. Ethan’s heartbeat was pounding in his ears, and he could barely focus on anything around him other than Gabriel and his sneer.

“The Entity has also decided that you have to pick someone to die. Ilsa, or y/n. You cannot save both Ethan.” Gabriel says, his grin widening as Ethan shoots to his feet, immediately held back by Gabriel’s men from attacking him.

“If you hurt either one of them, I swear, no one, not even your god will stop me from killing you.” Ethan growls angrily, fighting against the two men, desperate to launch at Gabriel who stands there and laughs at Ethan’s threats. Gabriel slinks off with a couple of men in tow after Alanna leaves and Ethan and Ilsa take the opportunity to attack the men to keep Ilsa safe and buy time for them to find out where you were so they could keep you safe too.

“Grace take this comm, Luther will guide you to someplace safe, I promise. Now go!” Ethan says, shoving a small communication device into Grace’s hand and encouraging her to get out while she still can.

“Benji, where is y/n? Is she with you?” Ethan says as he dodges a punch and quickly delivers a blow in retaliation.

“No, she left a while ago, said she wanted to go on a walk.” Benji says, his eyes fixed on his laptop as he hurriedly scans the map for your whereabouts.

“Connect me to her comm now!” Ethan says to Benji, landing a punch on an enemy, sending them stumbling back.

“She didn’t take one Ethan, but she does have her location on.” Benji says, hurriedly pulling up the map and searching for the dot that signals where you are.

“Give me directions to where she is right now.” Ethan says as Ilsa subdues the final man and they exchange a brief look before both running out of the building, dodging the men pursuing them from outside the building.

“Yes, directions… wait… what’s going…? Ethan, I’ve lost her she’s not on the map anymore.” Benji’s panicked voice comes through the comms and Ethan feels his blood run cold.

“Benji, where is she? Where is y/n?” Ethan’s voice was clearly panicked, and everyone could tell how worried he was about you. Benji was frantically typing away on his laptop trying to figure out why your signal had disappeared.

“Let’s split up and search while Benji tries to find her. We’ll cover more ground that way.” Ilsa says as the two duck into an alley to avoid being spotted.

“Are you sure?” Ethan asks. He knew Ilsa also had a bright red target on her back because of her closeness to him and he wasn’t willing to lose you or her to Gabriel or The Entity.

“I’ll be fine Ethan. Whoever finds her has to let the other know and we’ll rendezvous back at the safe house. Nothing more dangerous than the stuff we’ve already done.” Ilsa says softly, taking Ethan’s hand and squeezing it softly. The two silently agree on which direction they’re going to head in before leaving the safety of the alley and running off.

“Ethan, I’ve got her back on the map I’ll lead you to her now.” Benji’s voice comes over Ethan’s comm and he perks up, completely unaware that back in the safe house, Benji had not said a word and was instead staring at his laptop in confusion at the voice that eerily mimicked his own.

You were oblivious to everything that was going on as you walked around Venice. You stopped halfway across a bridge and just admired the quiet canal and the sky above before the sound of footsteps reached your ears. You barely glanced their way at first, expecting it to be a passerby who would do no more than maybe offer you a curt nod before continuing on their way but when you noticed out the corner of your eye that they were standing there staring at you, you turned to face them. Your breath hitched in your throat and your heartbeat picked up when you got a proper look at the man standing before you. He stood in front of you, a maniacal grin on his face as he stared down at you. Every instinct was screaming at you to run, to move, to do anything but your body wouldn’t co-operate. It was like you were frozen in place and nothing you did could make you move.

“y/n Hunt. I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.” The man says, approaching you slowly and your brain finally kicks in enough to make you pull your small switchblade out of your pocket and flick the blade out. Your dad and Ilsa had taught you how to defend yourself should the occasion arise, but you had always hoped and prayed you would never have to.

“Who are you?” You ask, fighting to keep your voice from shaking as you tighten your grip on the handle of your weapon.

“Just an old friend of your father’s.” The man says simply, moving ever closer as you lift your hand that held the blade and ready yourself, your brain repeating everything your dad and Ilsa had taught you as the man launched at you. You managed to dodge his attack and came just shy of your blade meeting his skin. The fight consisted of a lot of back and forth between dodging attacks and trying to land them. You managed to slash the man a couple of times with your small blade before the weapon was knocked from your hand and you looked up at the man in terror before he punches you across the face and sends you to the ground, hitting your head on one of the stone steps of the bridge which makes your world grow dark in an instant.

Ilsa came across you first, instantly recognising Gabriel who reached down and tugged you up by your hair as he lifted his blade to your throat. You were unconscious and unable to fight back and Ilsa couldn’t just stand by and watch.

“In all the years I’ve known Ethan I’ve learnt he cares for everyone. But his daughter will always be his top priority.” Luther’s words echoed in Ilsa’s head as she noticed the switchblade gleaming in the moonlight and she wasted no time in scooping it up.

“Pick on someone your own size.”

When you come to, the first thing that registers is the sound of an engine and the splashing of water against the walls of the canal. Your head was throbbing as you carefully sit up, blinking your eyes to adjust to your surroundings. You glanced to the side as you caught sight of a blurry figure to your right and squinted your eyes to focus them and are surprised to see the man who attacked you was now missing and your dad had taken his place, kneeling over a figure as you force yourself to your feet.

“Dad, what’s going-” You immediately cut yourself off as you approach your dad, recognising the figure he was kneeling by. Tears instantly sprang to your eyes as you stared down at Ilsa. Her eyes were open but there was no sign of life within them. Your hand covered your mouth as you blinked back the tears. You were confused, and you were worried, but above everything, you were scared. You didn’t know who attacked you and whether they were behind Ilsa’s death or even who that man was working for and what his end goal was.

“y/n, Ethan, get in!” You hear the hushed, hurried voice of Benji which breaks you from your thoughts and you see him positioning the boat near the path so you could get in the boat. You shakily make your way towards the boat, taking Benji’s outstretched hand as he eases you down into the boat.

“Careful y/n, are you okay?” Benji asks worriedly, grabbing a cloth from the first aid kit and holding it against your temple, encouraging you to hold it firmly in place as you sit down on one of the seats. In your haze, you hadn’t noticed the blood that had run down your face from when your head hit on the step.

“I’m okay.” You say shakily, looking up at Benji with tear filled eyes.

“Luther will check you over once we’re back at the safe house, just to be on the safe side.” Benji says softly with a small smile before moving to help Ethan into the boat, Ethan refused to leave Ilsa’s body behind and so Benji helped Ethan load her body onto the boat and travel down the canal until he found a place to bury her. Somewhere quiet that he would be able to visit. When he found the perfect spot, he insisted he didn’t need any help and disappeared on his own to bury the woman he loved. When he returned, his face was set and he barely spoke to you or Benji, just silently confirming he wanted to go back to the safe house and Benji complied.

When you arrived back at the safe house, Ethan excused himself to go to the roof while Luther crossed to you, placing his hands on each of your shoulders which makes you look up at him.

“Benji, keep an eye on Grace, and check in with Ethan when he comes back down. y/n lets go to your room and I’ll check that head injury of yours.” Luther says, at first to Benji who moves to sit near Grace at the table while Luther grabs the first aid kit and carefully guides you to the small room you would use to sleep in. Luther doesn’t switch the main light on, instead flicking on a small lamp. He sits you down on the edge of the bed and sits alongside you, carefully taking your hand in his own and moving both it and the cloth away from your injury so he could take a look.

“The good news is the bleeding is slowing, I’ll bandage it up now, but I think it’s best if you don’t sleep just so we can keep an eye on you. How are you feeling right now?” Luther says gently, opening the first aid kit and finding an antiseptic wipe to clean the wound.

“A bit dizzy, but I’ll live.” You mumble, wincing slightly when the wipe comes into contact with the injury, but you didn’t complain, you felt like you deserved the pain for what happened.

“And how are you feeling?” Luther asks, scrunching up the wipe and tossing it on top of its packaging before grabbing some gauze.

“I just told you I-”

“No, I’m asking how you are feeling. Emotionally not physically.” Luther corrects you gently, carefully placing the gauze against your temple and asking you quietly to hold it in place while he gets the medical tape out.

“I got Ilsa killed Luther, how do you expect me to feel?” The words came out sharper than you meant them to. You didn’t mean to snap, not at Luther but the guilt was beginning to take hold, clinging onto you gleefully like some sort of malicious creature and whispering in your ear about how it was your fault.

“y/n, it wasn’t your fault.” Luther says, a gentleness to his voice only reserved for heart to hearts like this.

“The guy that attacked me wanted to kill me I know it. So why did he kill her instead?” You whisper, tears springing to your eyes again as you think of what had just transpired. You were the one who was supposed to be dead. Ilsa was supposed to be alive, and you knew it. Ilsa was dead and it was all your fault. Luther remained quiet for a moment, silently debating his next words. He knew he couldn’t tell you that Ethan had been given a choice to save you or Ilsa, not that Ethan would have ever made the decision. But he couldn’t let you sit by and blame yourself either.

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened it was out of your control.” Luther argues gently, beginning to put the medical tape along the gauze to keep it in place while you remain silent, Luther’s words seemingly hitting a brick wall. When Luther finishes patching you up, he gathers up everything he’s used and stands, looking down at you softly.

“We’ll be in the other room if you need us.” He says before leaving the room. You remain sat on the edge of your bed, various thoughts swimming through your head of how you could’ve saved Ilsa somehow.

“y/n, we need you in the other room. We’re going over the new plan.” Benji says as he opens the door, making you wonder how long you had zoned out and did nothing but listen to your thoughts. You nod lightly at Benji’s words, forcing yourself to your feet and heading into the next room. Grace was still sitting at the table under both Ethan and Luther’s watchful eyes as you enter behind Benji. As you sit at the table, Ethan starts going over the new plan, how both he and Grace would disguise themselves and get the other half of the key and then Ethan would leave the train and meet you and Benji at the rendezvous point so you could figure out the next move from there while Grace would let herself get arrested and get into contact with Kittridge so she could join the IMF. Gabriel, who you learnt was the man who attacked you, was the only man who knew how to use the key so learning what the key opened and how it worked was important to the mission. As Ethan walked Grace through what she had to do, you noticed Luther packing up his belongings and you noticed he hadn’t been mentioned once in the plan.

“What about you Luther?” You ask, confused when he looks up at you with a soft smile.

“I’m heading off the grid for a while, I have traces of The Entity on my hard drive, so I want to investigate it further. I’ll make contact when I have something.” Luther says, putting the last of his stuff in a bag and straightening up.

“I’ll see you around Ethan. Don’t kill Gabriel, we need him.” Luther says, clapping Ethan on the shoulder as he approaches him.

“Luther, wait!” You call quickly, leaping to your feet and rushing over to give the man a hug which he quickly reciprocates.

“I’ll see you around Lil’ Hunt.” Luther whispers as he hugs you back, bringing a small smile to your face at the nickname Luther had been calling you since the moment he first met you. After pulling away you bid Luther one final goodbye before he leaves to investigate The Entity further. After Luther leaves, Benji notices that the mask machine has broken while making the mask for Ethan.

“Grace, you’ll have to get on the train by yourself. I’ll figure out another way on.” Ethan says, glancing at Grace who is visibly worried by the news.

“Promise me you’ll be on that train.” Grace says to your dad, and you watch him carefully to see how he’ll respond.

“I promise.” Your dad responds, and despite the lack of emotion on his face, you knew he was being one hundred percent serious. He’d never let anyone who trusted him down if he could help it. Grace is then given a mask with Alanna’s likeness and is instructed to put it in a bag so she can board the Orient Express and track down Alanna. She’s also given a sedative to knock Alanna out long enough for Grace to take her place and retrieve both halves of the key.

“We should probably make a move guys; we don’t have long until the train is due to leave.” Benji points out, scooping what he needs into his bag while encouraging you to do the same, so you quickly go into your room and grab the stuff you need and shove them into a bag and sling it over your shoulder. The four of you then head down to the garage that was used for IMF vehicles. Ethan immediately grabs the motorbike, gets on it and looks at Benji.

“You take Grace to the train station. Get her on safely, okay?” He says directly to Benji, barely sparing you a second glance, making you look to the ground, fighting back any potential tears as you follow Benji to the car and get in the back seat while Benji gets behind the wheel and Grace gets in the passenger seat. You lean back against the seat and squeeze your eyes shut to fight back the tears further. Seeing your dad actively avoid looking at you was just confirmation to you that he thought it was your fault Ilsa was dead. That he wished you had been the one who died instead of her. You watch as your dad revs the engine and drives off, with Benji following. When you reach the train station that the Orient Express will stop at, Benji pulls over and lets Grace out, reassuring her that she’ll be just fine before watching her walk into the station.

“Come on y/n, get in the front.” Benji says with a smile, turning back to look at you and fighting back a frown when you shake your head.

“I need my co-pilot for this.” He then says, noticing how you perk up just a little at his words. He knew Ethan tried to keep you out of the IMF life as much as possible but Benji figured that helping out behind the scenes wouldn’t hurt and so he taught you all the technical stuff he knew and allowed you to help out if you wanted to. Convinced by his words, you move to sit in the passenger seat, smiling softly as Benji smiles back.

“Atta girl.” Benji says with a smile before starting the car up and beginning the drive to the rendezvous point. You figured it would be a straight shot and a lot of waiting around. Your dad already knew where he was going to attempt to board the train and Grace was already on it, so it was just you and Benji until your dad met you at the rendezvous point with the key.

“Benji, the train didn’t slow down I need another place to get on!” You hear your dad’s shout come over the comms as you exchange a worried look with Benji.

“y/n, get my tablet and pull up the map.” Benji quickly instructs and you do as he asks, opening the map and handing it to Benji as he puts the car on autopilot. You and Benji scour the terrain and areas your dad could use to get on the train. You notice it first, switching your comm off and pointing it out.

“He might not like it, but this seems like our best bet.” You say, glancing from the map to Benji who lets out a small sigh but nods regardless.

“Okay, this is where you need to go.” Benji takes over directing Ethan where to go while you remain silent, listening to the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears. When you heard your dad confirming he reached the top of the mountain and wondering how he was going to get down you started to worry. Benji insisted he’d be fine since he had his parachute but when your dad’s comm went silent you started to worry that you had caused your dad’s death as well.

By the time you had reached the rendezvous point, you had confirmation that your dad had made it onto the train, but you didn’t hear from him after that, leaving you to wonder if he was okay.

“He’ll be fine. He’s Ethan and nothing stops Ethan.” Benji says reassuringly, noticing you fidgeting and the obvious tension in your body.

“I could’ve gotten him killed with that mountain idea.” You mumble, looking down and fiddling with the charm bracelet that sat proudly on your right wrist.

“It’s the only way Ethan could’ve gotten to the train, there were no other chances for him to get on. Your dad knows what he’s doing, and I bet it won’t be long until he turns up.” Benji says reassuringly, shuffling in his seat so he can face you as best he can. When you remain silent, Benji speaks up again.

“Are you okay, y/n? You seemed shaken up on the bridge and I haven’t gotten a chance to check in with you yet.” Benji asks softly, worry written across his face as he remembers watching you realise that Ilsa had died.

“It’s my fault Ilsa died, isn’t it? And dad thinks it’s my fault too.” You mumble, your gaze not moving from the bracelet as you flick one of the silver charms lightly, watching as it flies away from your finger due to the impact and then bounces harmlessly off your wrist. As you stared at your bracelet you neglected to see Benji’s expression shift to one of shock at the realisation that you were not only blaming yourself but thinking Ethan blamed you too.

“y/n/n, Ilsa’s death was not your fault at all. You didn’t even know what was happening because-”

“You’re right, I didn’t know what was happening and I should’ve. I should’ve taken a comm with me so I would know if anything was happening, like some mad man wanting to kill me. I should’ve known so I could’ve gone back to the safe house and Ilsa and dad wouldn’t have had to run around Venice looking for me.” You say, frustrated tears filling your eyes as more potential ways you could’ve saved Ilsa pop into your head.

“y/n, even if you did have a comm it wouldn’t have helped that much. The Entity managed to mimic my voice and use it to lead Ethan somewhere else when I was trying to figure out where you were because it wiped your signal from the map so I couldn’t lead your dad or Ilsa to you to keep you safe.” Benji explains, his heart breaking for you, wishing he could take this pain away from you because in his eyes you didn’t deserve it.

“It doesn’t change the fact that dad obviously blames me. He couldn’t even look at me before we left, and he didn’t talk to me either.” Your voice was no louder than a whisper now as the tears escaped their confinement and rolled down your cheeks. Benji’s face softened when he saw how upset you were and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Ethan would never blame you for what happened to Ilsa. He’s just trying to put the mission first, so he doesn’t have to deal with his emotions. You know what he’s like. Try and talk to him when we make it to the next safe house, it’ll do you both some good to talk things over.” Benji says softly, squeezing your shoulder gently to make you look up at him, eyes still filled with tears.

“I know you’ve got it in your head that your dad blames you, but he couldn’t. Ethan knows it’s not your fault. It’s Gabriel’s.” Benji assures as you sniffle lightly, reaching up with your hand to wipe at your eyes harshly.

“Benji, I’m on my way now stand by.” Before you had a chance to respond, Ethan’s voice crackles over the comms and you immediately move to sit in the back of the car, knowing it’ll be the easiest way to avoid talking to your dad. You waited with bated breath for your dad to arrive and as soon as he landed, he took his parachute off and loaded into the car.

“I got it, Benji. We’ve gotta get somewhere to lay low and get into contact with Luther to let him know we’ve got it.” Ethan says, holding up the key to show off that he has it while you curl into yourself in the backseat, avoiding even looking in your dad’s direction as Benji starts the car to drive to a safe house you could use to lie low in. Halfway through the journey, Benji glanced in his rearview mirror and saw you staring out the window intently, tears evident in your eyes and fought back a frown as he then glanced at Ethan out of the corner of his eyes and saw him focused on the road ahead.

The drive to the new safe house was silent other than the rumbling of the engine, and when Benji parked the car in the garage you were quick to jump out, grab your bag and disappear in the building, leaving Benji and Ethan behind. Benji, having had enough of the silence, turns to Ethan.

“Ethan, mate, you need to talk to y/n. She’s not okay right now and I know the mission is important, but I think right now your daughter is more important. You weren’t the only one there when you found Ilsa. She blames herself, Ethan.” Benji says, his tone gentle but with a certain strength in his voice showing how he wanted to get his point across. Ethan briefly looks in the direction of where you had gone and nods so lightly that the movement was almost imperceivable. Ethan decided to wait until he could find an appropriate time to talk to you since he needed to get into contact with Luther and try and figure out where to start searching for the Sevastopol so he can end The Entity. Before he knew it night had fallen and when he sticks his head in the room you decided to occupy to see if you were awake, he was greeted with the sight of you curled up in bed. He pressed his lips into a firm line and backed out of the room, vowing to talk to you in the morning.

What Ethan didn’t know was that you were faking it. You couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard you tried. Every time you closed your eyes you were greeted with the image of Isla’s dead body on the bridge and the heartbreak in your dad’s eyes. Your brain refused to let up as you continued to try, coaching yourself through methods your dad had taught you to help you get to sleep. After hearing silence fall around the safe house and realising that everyone has gone to bed, you get up, grabbing a blanket and tugging it around your shoulders as you head out onto the balcony to sit and watch the stars.

An hour after you went out onto the balcony, Ethan shot up in bed, panting heavily as flashes of his nightmare replay in his head, making him squeeze his eyes shut in an attempt to rid of them but immediately regretting his actions when he sees the dead body on the bridge again, but instead of Ilsa, it was you. Opening his eyes again, Ethan pushes himself off the bed and heads to your room, wanting to check in on you just to prove to himself that you were fast asleep and safe within the building. When he opened the door, he squinted to search for your figure beneath the covers, but panic rose in his chest when he realised you weren’t there. He rushed over to the bed to look for any signs of a struggle but when he found nothing, he left your room to look for anything that might clue him into your whereabouts, pausing as he walked past the doors that went out onto the balcony when he noticed a figure outside and when he focused, he realised it was you.

At first, Ethan’s instinct was to head out onto the balcony and scold you for disappearing without letting him know but just as he reached for the door handle, he took a step back and allowed himself to gather his thoughts. Had his nightmare not awoken him and made him want to check on you, you would’ve simply remained out on the balcony until you felt ready to come back in and he would’ve woken up in the morning none the wiser. You hadn’t left the safe house. You just needed a moment. After taking a deep breath, Ethan opens the door carefully before stepping out onto the balcony and closing the door behind him. You didn’t turn to face him, your gaze remained fixed on the stars that had provided you endless comfort night after night and when Ethan stepped closer, he noticed the tear tracks on your cheeks.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks softly, resting his forearms against the cool metal railings and joining you in looking up at the sky.

“Every time I tried; I saw Ilsa.” You mumble, blinking as another few tears roll down your cheeks. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ethan turn his head to look at you.

“I’m sorry you were there. I should’ve been there to protect you.” You hear your dad say and that sentence made you finally tear your gaze away from the sky to look at your dad who had tears of his own shining in his eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault dad. Benji told me about The Entity mimicking his voice to throw you off.” You say, a sad smile on your face as you look at him before looking up at the moon, admiring how its crescent shape shone in the darkness.

“It wasn’t your fault either. Gabriel was already two steps ahead of me when he said he was going to kill you or Ilsa. He made it practically impossible for both of you to survive by distracting me.” Ethan says softly, getting your attention once more as he watches you softly.

“But Ilsa died.” You argue, watching how Ethan nods forlornly but his eyes never lose their gentleness.

“She did. But that doesn’t mean I’d want you in her place. It was never your fault that she died.” Your dad says, reaching out to wipe the tears that had fallen down your cheeks. He catches them softly on his thumbs and swipes them away as he considers his next words.

“Ilsa knew what she was getting into. She died protecting you because Gabriel had gotten to you first. I will miss her as long as I’m alive and I will always love her, especially because she saved you.” Ethan then says, silently asking for permission to pull you into a hug which you allow him to do, clinging to him as you fight back more tears.

“I wish there was something I could’ve done to have her with us right now.” You whisper, biting down on your lip to stop more tears from falling.

“Me too, sweetheart. But we can avenge her by using the key to destroy The Entity, and after that, I’m not going to let Gabriel get away again.” Ethan swears, a hand reaching up to run through your hair before he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head before suddenly being reminded of the injury you sustained.

“Your head, is it okay?” He asks, pulling away slightly to look at the gauze that was covering the injury.

“It’s feeling a lot better than it was.” You admit, a small smile appearing on your face as you look up at your dad who mirrors your smile.

“I’m sorry for not realising how you felt sooner. I was just overwhelmed by losing Ilsa and I let the mission get-“

“Dad, it’s okay. Getting the key was important. And I know you miss Ilsa. Your grief is valid, and I never wanted to make you feel like it wasn’t. I know I’m your daughter and you want to protect me, but you can talk to me, and I’ll try to help.” You say and instead of replying verbally, Ethan pulls you in for another hug, squeezing you gently as he plants another kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you so much, y/n.” He whispers, allowing himself to relax as he holds you safely in his arms.

“I love you too, dad.” You reply, cuddling as close to your dad as possible as you spare the night sky one last glance.

You’d be okay.

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd writes #lil' hunt #lil' hunt universe #mission impossible #mission impossible fallout #mission impossible dead reckoning #mission impossible rogue nation #ethan hunt mission impossible #ethan hunt #ethan hunt x reader #ethan hunt x daughter!reader #x daughter!reader #tom cruise #tom cruise mission impossible

[r-aindr0p]

Back to my magical musketeers for this post !

I have a precise aesthetic for them in mind and I’m trying to work on it and how to convey it aahfnhdej

The two last drawings are older of a few months and I wanted to post them with more content, it’s not much but here you go !

That sword thing interaction has been living rent free in my head since day 1 of their creation…

Lore time, basically in the magical musketeer code of honor/rules one’s sword is unique to each musketeer and is a part of their being and soul, picking up somebody else’s sword or touching it by the hilt is considered like a proposal.

You can see it in the example above, and Gloire (rainbow guy) in all of his glory being blissfully unaware since he did not bother reading the code of honor, thanks Gloire, very cool.

#raindr0p oc #magical boy #musketeer #original character #magical musketeers my colorful blorbos #giving the names again here > #Gloire (rainbow) Ariel (purple and pink) Léonor (black yellow and purple) and Aalis (not rook hunt I swear bangs and blonde hair) #There’s also grils and theys in the school it’s not an all boys but the main cast are the lil guys here #idk how to introduce a universe to ppl but I’ll do my best

[fiddleabout]

didn't think it was possible to experience a more egregious level of Smart-Person Stupid than when dealing with doctors a work, but now. now. now, there are coders. god save me from smart people who couldn't find their ass without going around their elbow because i am about to kill a bitch.

#bro are you someone who thinks that they don't need to check for cars if the pedestrian light says go #because people will always do exactly what they're supposed to #how have you lived this long #how have you not died #i don't understand #i will find you i will hunt you down i will murder you and if i don't then i will find a way for the universe to curse you #so that every time you ask a stupidass question while acting like you're god's smartest lil soldier #you feel like you have to sneeze for three hours straight and never actually sneeze #because then you will spend your entire gd life feeling like that #and it will be better than you deserve you absolute galaxy-tiered shitbird #how! are! you! this! smart! and still! so! so! so! sTUPID #pls excuse me while i go scream into the void for the rest of the evening #the continuing adventures of being a working adult

[mihrsuri]

How old was Thomas Cromwell when he married Liz Wykes and had Gregory? Did Liz ever know about Norwich?

(with the caveat that I have done some handwavey magic math to make this work and also that I’m still figuring out this part of the backstory).

He was fifteen, she was sixteen and it was very much a whirlwind love and first sight thing going on (I really do know though that if Liz had lived it would have been one of those beautiful loving marriages) - partly they were able to be married because (a) Thomas got befriended by the son of a Florentine Banker (prominent) and (b) Liz’s parents saw he was bright/promising etc and (c) Liz was entirely capable of just Getting Married Regardless (Liz very much was the one to kiss him/equivalent of going ‘is anyone going to put a ring on the hot boy with dark curls?’ and not waiting for an answer.

I think he told her the story, maybe because he got triggered by something. Maybe before they married because he felt he was too tainted to be married and she was like ‘FUCK THAT FUCK HIM I’LL KILL HIM MYSELF’

(In universe historically it’s not known if she knew - mostly because Thomas’ first marriage is kind of not a huge topic of study - pre reveal mostly people focused on his career in England rather than Florence because that’s when the records really start - so they know he was in Florence in the household of [probably a Medici] and they know he was married and had three children but there’s very little else).

(Maya’s work may in fact include having found that Liz Wykes could both read and write - possibly in at least two languages - because there’s a record somewhere of her having signed contracts/replied to a letter and that letter/some of Thomas and Gregory’s papers is where we get a sense of her but they were both very private about their feelings).

#ot3: political power trio #lil and her ridiculous aus #fic #tudors ot3 verse reference #thinking about it like they are the teenage couple who make it #they would have been just as in love in their 90s as they were when they first met #(the ot4 potential though) #there’s a historian somewhere in universe who goes hunting down information in Florence (Liz was in this case born there) and in England

[wizard-eater]

do you vore wizards.Are uou a Wizard Vorer

That's a good question! Now onto our next question

#i am the predator to your prey i am the boot to your ant i am the sky to the grass beneath your feet i am hunger i am thirst i am ache #little ants to whet my appetite. milling about as i watch from a universe endlessly bigger than yours #i am a god to your limited physicality #sure i vore wizards. i also cannibalize them and hunt them and tear their soft flesh apart with my teeth #little rabbits in my snare. i hunger and i feed. it is the circle by which we live. consume and consume and consume and consume and #you are little gnats within my web. am i not to sup upon your lifeblood? there is little else for you to do other than be eaten. #asks #gonna add a trigger warning for tags sorry y'all. kinda got a lil too in character #tw vore mention #tw cannibalism mention

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

*kicks down the door dramatically*

Hey :)

*drops these off and backflips away*

CRYING AND MELTING INTO A PUDDLE ON THE FLOOR /POS

*holds them gently* they’re so…..so…..damn precious oh my god-

MMM the lil deity au embrace is so beautiful and ethereal I love so much <33

Pirate au OUGH SHINYA’S FACE EHEHE <333333333333

AND THE LIL HORROR BFS OMG- TSUNAGU LOOKS SO CUTE AAGGHH!!!!!!!

GAH thank you so much for blessing my inbox with these, I can’t stop looking at them I love your lil drawings so much <333

#tw caps #bnha #best jeanist #edgeshot #edgejeanist #hakamada tsunagu #kamihara shinya #eclair’s aus #pirate au #corrupt horrors au #fallen deities au #ough your art is always amazing thank you for these #genuinely can’t stop looking at them #I feel so blessed to have your amazing lil doodles of my favourite aus thank you #I’ve been super busy and stressed these past few days bc of university hunting and stuff #so haven’t had much time to make draw or write anything and I do apologise for that y’all!! #but thanks #this made me feel a lot better <3

[fuleao]

my dash is exploding with excitement over tma 2 and i am alone stewing in my mixed feelings because i found out my favorite band is actually going to release that full-length movie they haven’t spoken of in a long time

#nobody here listens to lord huron but i need an outlet #LH songs are usually narrative and there's lil hints for how stories could be connected #on the one hand we could get Lore #but I don't know if that's a good thing #I've kind of been ignoring popular theories and even some band statements #I dunno LH is maybe just more fun as a lore scavenger hunt with unclear answers #the LH universe is weird and full of supernatural happenings #but because the third album introduced the drug Vide Noir people think it was all drugs #i can't tell from the movie trailer which way it will go #if Vide Noir doesn't actually send you into space then what's the point #listen I always take the literal route interpreting these songs #La Belle Fleur Sauvage was not a metaphor there really was some flower dryad living on top of that mountain #oh also? this thing is probably going to be hokey as hell |D #maybe it will still be fun maybe it will just be pretentious and weird idk we will see

[shanedagoat]

Daily Sketches for April 11th - April 20th, 2024

#digital art #dailysketch #sketch #furry #art #shitpost #my oc art #daily art #furry vore #I fucking love vore dude #goat oc #maw #dnd campaign #my friend started a custom dnd type campaign and we are already getting into trouble lol #content warning #content warning game #steven universe #trauma child lol #tax day #knife #hunting knife #fortnite #big mouth fortnite #not my oc #sefeiren #splatoon 3 #springfest #lil bunnies team #ha ha funny #happy 4/20

[gocelot]

The great and powerful Trixie LAUGHS at the distortion of reality!!

I love sunset and trixies friendship and was inspired by @dapper-lil-arts drawing of this the other way around with a starlight w/ two trixies.

Does make me wonder though… where is the starlight in the equestria girls universe exactly?? Trixie might have to hunt her down.

#sciset #twiset #sunset sparkle #sunset shimmer #the great and powerful trixie #trixie mlp #startrix #trixie lulamoon #starlight glimmer

[animeshotsh]

Life in heaven | Various x Kid!Reader |

Alternative universe and events - How does kid!reader live in heaven -

Kid!Reader has their memories from their life in earth and hell erased. They only know their name and that they died.

Emily its the one who shows them around, she is soft, friendly and wants to help kid!reader adapt to heaven life. She notices how confused they are so it makes her personal mission to help this soul.

She felt a bump in her heart when they took her hand and called them "big sis" because something in the back of the mind of Kid!reader tells them Emily reminds them of someone.

When showing around heaven Emily ends introducing him to other winners, Kid!Reader has to do a double check in when they notice a pink and white winner....

Emily decides Kid!Reader must meet Saint Peter.

When meeting him Kid!Reader stood there not saying anything, making Peter sweat, Kid!Reader its stuck seeing the blonde hair and light blue eyes.

Next thing they know Kid!Reader has jumped into Peter's arms and huggs him like their afterlife depends on it.

After it, Kid!reader wants to stay at the gates with Peter. No one knows why, and they tell them, they need to rest.

"Then, i will be back tomorrow"

And thats what they do. Its a routine now, when a new winner arrives Kid!Reader its on Peter's shoulders welcoming them. Sometimes Peter has problems fiding the name of the newcomer so kid!reader helps him.

Peter smells like cotton candy and Kid!Reader never tried it before. Peter takes a few hours free to go and enjoy some with Kid!Reader

When walking around heaven Kid!Reader avoid the exterminators, specially one that has no arm and gives them the most cold look ever.

Emily seems to have a sixth sense because she is there to back them up and take them to a safer place.

Emily does not know who kid!reader was in hell, only some high rank angels does, thats the reason they removed their memories and they feel shame for kind of sent a kid to hell when they did mean to go to heaven.

One day Emily tells kid!reader she wants them to meet a centrain newcomer.

Sir.Pentious almost faints when seeing you. But he soons sees that you dont remember a thing and its devasted because of it. He adopts you as his new lil relative. Uses his tail to carry you around, buys you sweet and does go with you to visit Peter.

He also begs that you can live with him (something you accept a full floor was making you feel lonely) and Sir.Pentious its in cloud nine.

The first night he ends cuddling you with his tail. He knows how much you mean to Charlie and the rest, so he is going to protect you and care for you from now on.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Down in hell

Charlie has been depress since you died, Vaggie has tried to cheer her up, to make her continue her dream.

"How can i offer salvation when they killed (Y/N) like they were nothing? They dont care about us"

Lucifer has go back to his castle where he passes his time making ducks, crying and playing the violin. He stares at the photos he took of you and cries more. He cant forgive himself for letting you die.

Alastor its like his old days. Hunting whoever and whatever comes near him. He causes chaos in the city. Decides that he had enough of the stupid TV specially when they show footage of his fight and your death. The empery of the V's its destroyed in one day, and Alastor gets stronger after he consumes their bodies and souls.

No one can mention your name. No one can enter into one of your rooms. They are devasted and broken.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #charlie x reader #sir pentious x reader #Emily x reader

[uncouth-the-fifth]

click, p.2 - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

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

FIVE YEARS LATER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soft breathing. The pages of a book turning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your throat locks up with tears.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re really not saying yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay. Weird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I help?” Sam asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squint at him. Liar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No no no,” you bite out in one short, rattling breath. “S-Suh—Sam, please please—” An unexpected sob shreds out of you. “Miss you. Need you.”

You’re actually, genuinely crying, and not entirely in the fun sexed-out way. Sam backs up. He’s not even halfway standing when you wrench him up the rest of the way, straight into a desperate, maddening kiss. It’s a brutal cross of teeth and tongue. The need for body heat and skin and him burns through you like genuine bloodlust, so you cram yourself up against him with life-or-death urgency. You get your nails into him until you feel something like shirt fabric and viciously yank it over his head, waiting for the moment when he grabs your wrists or shoves you onto the bed o-or—or starts to blow off steam. Cause’ that’s what this is all about, right?

He drags your mouths apart. Sam pants, “Slow down.”

You stop.

This is. This is new.

There’s no slowing, with this. You both go and you keep going until there’s no more fuel in your tanks, and you crawl out of bed the next day feeling like you’ve beaten the rot out of each other. You’ve never once slowed down during this before, and as your wheels spin to a halt for the first time, reality filters back in around you.

Sam stares at you. His hair is all over the place. A patchy blush speckles up his heaving chest, burning in his ears and in his cheeks. Your slick shines on his lips and the bulb of his nose. He’s just standing there and fucking looking at you, but for whatever reason it feels like the color has seeped back into the world.

“S’okay. Gonna be okay,” Sam hushes, bleeding with sweetness.

He picks up your hands, moving you as if you were a delicate glass he was turning over in each palm. Each of your hands are kissed in the center (oh my fucking god) then wrapped around his neck, and when he has you in his bubble he scoops up your face and kisses you.

It’s a boyfriend kiss. Not a blowing off steam thing, or any other excuse the two of you have used to feel each other. A genuine, I’m your boyfriend and I love you sort of kiss, foreheads pressed together, noses touching, the whole nine yards. It’s the kind of kiss that’s meant to say something. Every inch of what he’s trying to tell you echoes through your body in one ringing smash, like you’re a big cymbal he’s taken a mallet to. 

He slips off your lips and hovers, bracing himself for impact. You suck in a rattling breath.

…Then you press up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss of your own, just pressing your lips against his, unmoving. It’s undemanding; an answer. You try to find the words to describe the shift that’s occurred between you, and end up feeling stuttery and shivery and fucking elated. Romantic. It’s fucking romantic.

“Sammy,” you sob out.

“Shhh. C’mere,” Sam whispers, his voice throaty and whiskey smooth. “Lemme make it better.”

He tries to walk you straight back out of the bathroom and towards the bed, he really does, but you stop Sam every other step to overwhelm him with obsessed, affectionate kisses. God. His chapstick is all over your fucking mouth (along with your slick) and his hands are everywhere else, feeling instead of grabbing.

“You always do,” you breathe, and that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to him in bed.

Sam gets this quiet, pleased smile on his face. No matter how naked and turned-on you are, you’ve always got a snappy reply ready, and you’re about to throw one at him—until you’re fucking obliterated. He smoothes his palms down your arms. Your wrists are scooped up again. With all the tenderness on the planet, Sam slides in close, kisses your throat, and places both of your hands firmly on his belt.

“Take it off,” he rasps.

This. This isn’t the first time he’s given you that order. But knowing, feeling that he’s playing this all out like it’s more than a fling to him… that Sam’s gonna fuck you like you’re someone special to him… sweet jesus, it makes you lightheaded.

“Bossy,” your murmur, grinning.

You’re downright feverish going in to kiss him next. Sam parts your lips with a slow, sinful swipe of his tongue, and there must be a drop of psychic still in him, because suddenly you’re flooded with visions of that filthy mouth between your legs. You can still feel the ghost of him there, keeping you open with his thumbs as the blunt tip of his tongue pushes you somewhere vast and sparkly and wonderful. This is going to be even better.

He sounds like he’s praying when he says, “I just like to watch you.”

Muscle memory serves. You work his clasp open without peeking down and let it hang in his belt loops, mostly because it lets his jeans sling low on his hips in the most enticing way. His belly twitches at even the slightest touch of your hands; always so responsive. Sam drops his forehead on your shoulder to watch you work, and you take the rare opportunity to kiss the top of his head. This is one of your favorite parts. When his button is undone and his zipper’s down, you’re free to smooth your hand under his waistband and take a big handful of him.

You reach in and—squeeze. Sam’s hand snaps up to clutch your arm. His nails dig in, and he rocks forward onto his tiptoes to really dig into your touch. “Yes.”

It’s the kind of soft, needy sound that makes you want to smother him with kisses and hug him until he suffocates. Instead, you cooly purr into his hair, “So sensitive, Sammy.”

A hoarse, sharp laugh snaps out of him, which dissolves into a shuddering groan. You tug at his jeans until they’re somewhere you don’t care about anymore, and forget about everything else entirely at the sight of his cock. All these years of sneaking around with him have conditioned you. Just seeing the pretty speckling of dark hair that leads to it, then the real deal, hanging blood-hot and heavy between his legs, makes your tummy flip and your mouth water. One of a million embarrassing Sam-reactions you’ll have to bring to your grave.

You take his cock in your hand, trying to swallow back the slutty amount of saliva in your mouth. Sam whimpers. A real, desperate sound, with his nails stinging down your arms and everything.

“Know you wanted to slow down,” you struggle between open-mouthed pants, “b-but—can’t—don’t wanna wait—”

Sam physically curls towards you, his hips seizing into your hand and his arms hooking around your shoulders. You’re dragged in for a sloppy kiss so deep you swear it melds your souls together. Sam is just as affected, rumbling like a racecar in approval.

“Then don’t.” He begs.

If this was any other night, Sam would just take. You’d be face down and drilled halfway through the mattress by now, no preamble, all business. He got off and you got off and everyone was happy that way. Sam would want the room dark and you would hide your face in the bedding, the two of you eager to touch and experience but terrified of breaking the illusion. He’s so generous that you suppose he’s got to have at least one place in life where he’s selfish, and you’re happy to be his outlet for it, but.

You’ve never seen him take this way before.

He looks at you and he never really stops, transfixed. You don’t doubt you could walk in a circle around him and Sam’s eyes would follow you the whole way, his gaze oozing with longing and something else—resolution? Faith? You push him onto the bed, and he drops down as if hobbling into a pew for the first time, unsure how to clasp his hands in prayer because it’s only ever been something done in his head before.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“God,” Sam utters, spellbound. 

You’re blushing so hard that you forget to be sexy as you crawl into his lap, but Sam doesn’t care, still giving you those big slow doe blinks to express his love. It’s so different from the Sam you know (yet also so deeply, deeply him) that you forget what it means to be sexy entirely. He coaxes you closer to plant tender kisses under your chin, and the plan to seductively peel off your sweater for him and flash him your tits blips out of existence.

You wait for the moment when Sam shreds the Stanford sweater off you. Instead, those wonderful fucking hands tease under the hem to squeeze your waist, and Sam croaks out between kisses, “Should wear this all the time. You’re beautiful in anything, but this… you’re… mmn.”

Your heart gives a pathetic flutter. You press mindless kisses against his mouth and rock your bare core down on his lap, because he’s never acted this way before and you don’t know how else to return the favor. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Sammy.”

The only reaction you get from him is a single huff out of his nose, like it’s something he can’t commit a whole laugh to. Like none of that matters anymore, like it would never matter for Sam, because his body may be beautiful, but it hardly belongs to him anymore. God, you’re shitty at compliments.

You’re fucking wonderful, you suddenly want to tell him. A whole swarm of little truths and sweet nothings roars straight up to the surface of your mind, a whole sea of better things you could say to him, but then one of those perfect hands is slipping between your legs and Sam’s asking you in that perfect, tinted glass voice, “You still on the pill?”

“Yes, doctor,” you tease.

Another flood of sticky heat rushes between your legs, because that question is always a precursor to being pressed into and filled and stuffed end-to-end by Sam’s dick. The one barrier that doesn’t—didn’t exist between you.

“Good,” Sam sighs, relieved, grateful. He never turned down going raw in the past, but he’s downright starved for it right now. Closer closer closer, his whole body begs.

You’re tugged in by a big hand hooked around your back, and you fall right into Sam’s summer-warm, sweat-sticky chest, giggling. He loops both arms around your middle and teddy-bear squeezes even more laughter out of you. The only way to hold yourself up is by planting two hands on his shoulders… which turns into his cupping his neck… then caressing his face, because it’s impossible to be witness to that quiet boyish grin and not shower him in affection. There’s all these little freckles on him that you can only see up close. He feels good, mystical good, prophetic-chosen-one type good.

This is the moment. You can feel the blood in your body pounding between your legs, and Sam’s cock bumps not-so-innocently against your core as you kiss one another. Every shift of his hands sends your muscles clenching tight, bracing for impact, but Sam doesn’t push into you just yet.

Your confusion must be clear on your face, because he says, “Just let me feel you for a second.”

And, obviously, you’re not an idiot, so you let Sam feel you for as long as he pleases. For the next ten uninterrupted minutes, you makeout like lovesick teenagers, whimpering and sighing and swallowing every sound the other makes. You’d always pegged him as a romantic. But seeing it, feeling it, adds a whole new dimension to him you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

By the time the pool of need in your gut has opened up into a blackhole, Sam has caressed or squeezed or kissed every part of you ten times over. He continues to be weird and obsessed with you. (So still in character, then). Sam even pinches the ends of your ears and smooths his thumbs over the bumps of your ankles, being sexy about it but also a little terrifying. He touches you like he’s never gonna see you again.

Around the time that Sam starts suckling marks into your neck and trying to tickle you under your arms, you giggle out, “O-Okay—okay! Enough—!”

“Enough what?” Sam cocks his head. His hand makes another dive for your belly, making you shriek and squirm with more giggles. You try to wriggle away to protect your tickling sides, but Sam’s too strong and you’re a little in love with him, so it’s easy for him to pull you flush against him and blow tingly-warm breaths beside your ear. He purrs, “You need it that badly?”

“Fucking yes! So quit torturing me,” you pant, and you’re pretty sure this grin is going to get stuck on your face.

Sam’s smile gets even bigger. “Only if you say please.”

Your attitude slips from your grip like water. Next time, you’ll play push and pull with him, but right now there needs to be a lot more pushing and pulling in a different context.

The words are out of your mouth in an instant. “Please, Sam.”

As reluctant as he is to stop teasing you, Sam’s a little in love, too. He leans back enough to fist his cock in one hand, and you can’t help how your breath hitches when Sam’s touch follows the curve of your ass to where you’re soaked and sensitive for him. Those thick, maddening fingers spread you open. The velvety tip of his cock finds your hole right away, and your legs nearly give out when Sam starts to swipe himself up and down your folds one dizzying stroke at a time. Back…. and forth. Up… and down. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay, fine…” He concedes, his eyes glittering with joy. “You’re just so cute when you act all tough.”

Maybe not all of your attitude is gone. You bark out a laugh, telling him, “I hate you.”

Sam presses down for the last time, then presses in. You don’t mean to look into his eyes when he fills you up, and that’s probably what does you in. Sam’s rosy face flutters and twists with pleasure, but he never stops looking at you, not even once, terrified to miss even a small moment. The long hitching moan that slips out of you makes his whole face darken with desire. You’re pulled onto him deeper and deeper and deeper until—click. Cue the angel choir.

Your fingers dig desperately into his hair. Sam curls into you in one slow pulling movement, a thread pulled taut, until his face is stuffed in your neck and his hands are mindlessly scrabbling down your back.

“God, I love you,” he moans.

Soon your pussy feels achy and hair-trigger-sensitive and beyond full, which could mean that you’re all the way on him. It’s impossible to tell, since the first full minute of having Sam’s dick inside you sends you straight to the moon every time, where everything falls in peaceful slow-motion and the whole world hums with cosmic, sparkling pressure. You shove your face into him and nuzzle in a daze, little ripples of electricity sparking up your spine.

…Wait.

“What?” You register, slow.

Sam is still clutching you for dear life, even if the moment’s slowed and you’re both comfortable. He hugs you full-bodied, nose in your neck, tilted forward, the kind of hug where he sways you side to side with joy. Sam sucks in a harsh breath. Can’t hold back anymore.

“I love you,” he gushes. The words burn out of him, declarative, overjoyed.

There’s so much you want to say to that. But then Sam digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you off his lap, only to gloriously sink you down the rest of the way, and. Fuck fuck fuck. His cock drags thick and hot against the pliant walls of your pussy. You couldn’t be any more full if you tried, clamping down on him with long, silky ripples of pressure that outline the shape of him inside you in obscene detail. It’s the kind of mind-blowing that’s beyond comprehension, beyond feeble human understanding. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper into his hair.

“God, I love you,” he chants again through grit teeth. “So much. So fucking much.”

You find his face with your hands and kiss him quiet, tasting the promise in his mouth. When you part and the two of you really start to move, you kiss him again, and again, whispering where only he can hear, “I-I love you too.”

It should scare you how easily the confession slips out. You should be terrified, because even if you live to see next week, or next month, or next year, even if Sam isn’t saying yes to Lucifer, those words are a death sentence. And yet.

“I-I miss you,” you choke out, “I need you.”

“Me too. So much,” Sam soothes, his voice tight and sharp with restraint. You know his instinct is to jackhammer up into you and never stop, but he puts in effort to resist, letting you both marinate in the wonderful, glistening, twitchy feeling of each other. His hands are rubbing your back and he is so fucking warm, turning the rain outside to steam.

He doesn’t bounce you on his dick. It’s more of a slow, cresting drag, waves stroking a beach. You don’t think you could handle much more than that, anyway—sometimes these positions make him feel big enough to pop you like a balloon. What you can’t fit on your own, your weight pushes you down onto anyway, turning your whole body into a big expanding bubble of pressure ready to burst at any moment. You clutch at his shoulders and just throb around him for a second.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam leans away, not letting you shove your face in him like you want. Instead, a big hand cups one side of your neck and keeps you in front of him. “Wanna see your face. Look at me. Look at me,” he insists, genuinely pleading.

When your eyes find his, that’s when he decides to snap up into you for real. You don’t even get a full look at him. The arm slung around your waist drags you up off your wobbling knees, then slams you down into a beautiful, endless white space popping with color.

“Sammy!” You choke.

That’s the magic word. You’re instantly thrust up into four more lightning-fast times, one-two-three-four, and hitch out four squeaky gasps to match. Sam’s eyes bore into yours with every beat, blazing with liquid love. For a second you wonder if you’ve fallen back into your rough routine again. But then words and thoughts melt out of your brain altogether, because Sam draws you into the tenderest, sweetest kiss human beings are capable of, fucking into you deep and smooth with that deeper, smoother voice, “Keep saying that.”

Sammy Sammy Sammy, you rattle out under your breath. Sam hisses out your name the exact same way.

You do your best to help him out a little, bobbing up and down in his lap, but’s a drop of water in the ocean for him. All Sam cares about is seeing your reaction. He soaks up everything you do like a sponge, moaning when you moan, gritting his teeth when you bite your lip, grinding up as you stir down. The weight of his eyes on you is so heavy that your skin stings in its wake. Again, it’s Sam’s brand of freak-sweetness that makes you get stupid notions in your head about wedding rings and anniversary presents. But that’s—

…something he knows about. Something he just said to you five minutes ago. Above the haze of bouncing, rhythmic pleasure, you’re flooded with relief. You can tell him! Holy fuck, you can tell him!

“I love you,” you gasp out again, and just saying it feels like it could save the world. “O-oh, god, Sam—”

The breath you have left is stolen from you by another fierce kiss from him, so passionate it lets you taste the bassy, happy hum that rumbles in Sam’s throat. You’re devoured by feverish kisses for a full minute, then Sam pops off you to sob, “So much—so fucking much, yes.”

He slips a hand between the two of you to thumb your clit, stirring in and never once stopping. Every so often he’ll brush up against where you’re hot and filled to the hilt with him, your bodies sliding together with slick, filthy noises that are so—so fucking much that your thighs cramp up, protesting the constant pistoning. But the pleasure is easily worth the burn. Your core booms with long echoes of pleasure that shudder through the trembling spiderwebs that make up your nerves. You make a move to lean back on your hands and switch up the angle, (since you’re a damn good cowgirl, thank you very much), but Sam refuses to stop kissing you. He physically pulls you back in with a hand fished around your neck and kisses you breathless, determined to pound you to your climax one thorough snap of his hips at a time.

“So beautiful,” Sam gushes. His voice is hoarse and thready, like he’s moments away from bursting into tears of pure desire.

You smooth your hands down his flushed cheeks, telling him between huffy moans, “It’s okay, s’ okay, Sammy… so pretty… love you so much…”

You feel him pull the Stanford sweater up over your ass and out of his way, exposing more, more, more of your bare skin for him to touch. Sam palms the slope of your back and your belly in a daze, but that’s still not enough—he’ll never be satisfied with how little of you he’s had. He wants more. He wants forever. You embrace each other to the fullest, cheeks smushed together, chests flush, his parted lips claiming your throat, making you his—but. Sam’s breath ratchets up. Not enough not enough not enough—

In one ragged motion, Sam rolls you both over, tossing you back-first onto the bedding and smothering you with his weight.

A squeal of delight jumps out of you. “Hey!”

If Sam wasn’t all over you before, then he literally is now, dropping onto his elbows so he can cup your face in both hands and surround you completely. “Sorry,” he croaks, “need you. Need to fill you up.”

You whisper against his lips, “Then fill me up already.”

His thumbs press into your cheeks a little. Sam’s breath fans across your face, throttled by the lump in his throat.

“Tell me you love me again.”

Um. You don’t exactly have the sexy heat of the moment to hide behind this time, but you still want to say it for him. His eyes swim with something unreadable. Desire and love, enough love to put a lump in your throat too, but a third thing also. It worries you.

You bring your hands up to stroke his wrists, and give a bit too much of your soul to him when you promise, “...I love you, Sam.”

The words hit him like a bullet. Sam shudders from head to toe, unable to reign himself in any longer, and plants a long, surging kiss on your mouth that makes your belly flash with nuclear levels of lust. He squirms his hands underneath your body so he can cradle you against him—genuinely cradling, one palm cupping the back of your neck—and then burrows into you face-first, groaning your name as his cock nestles itself as deep as it can go.

With all of his weight on top of you, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. You caress and kiss and dig your nails into him, and somewhere along the way you’re given a dose of whatever has made him fucking insane for you right now. It fogs your head and turns your reason to ash, so when Sam returns to ruining you for any other man, you whimper, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam hiccups out, and something strange hangs in his voice.

You would ask him what’s wrong, but the shuddering, flimsy scraps left of your brain are busy being blasted all over by white-hot pleasure. Everything scorches. Sam’s bare skin and his breath and his hands feel fucking molten, melting you down like hot glass. You’re pinned down in every possible way, and it pushes the sinking, gorgeous pressure inside you all over your body, like it’s not just Sam’s cock filling you up, but him, just him, the source of all good in the world. Holy fucking fuck. His hips glide back and then thud back into you again and again and again. You get why it’s called making love, now. You can taste your love for him in the back of your throat, feel it sitting in a sticky film on your skin. It hangs like humidity in the air of your apartment. And jesus christ, it bleeds from Sam, glowing off him like fucking radiation.

When you’re shamelessly wailing gut-deep in ecstasy, Sam peels himself off you. He forces himself to sit up. His chest putters up and down with desperate little breaths, and a gloriously big hand scoops under your thigh and welds it against your chest. Whatever he sees from this new angle—probably your wet, abused pussy stretched tight around the full base of his cock—makes Sam gape, utterly transfixed. You watch as his mouth falls open, and then those dark, soul-swallowing eyes crawl up your body to meet yours.

“Keep lookin’ at me,” Sam rasps.

Even if he doesn’t sway your opinion with a few dizzying, stomach-deep drags of his cock, (which he does), you’re convinced. You lock eyes with him—and then suddenly feel stupid for not watching him the whole time. A long curl of hair hangs in his eyes and sways as he fucks into you. His expression flutters with these sinful little giveaways, exposing just how starved he is for you, how in love. Maybe if you’d looked back sometime in the past five years, that’s what you would’ve seen: how much this has always meant to him. He searches your face for the same pleasure, obsessed with his effect on you. 

“Fuck,” you shudder out. “C-could cum just watchin’ you, Sammy.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, and you’ve never heard him sound so damn happy. “Cum for me. Please. Look so pretty when you do.”

Usually, when he makes you cum, it’s the roughest part of the whole act. He’d get both your wrists pretzeled behind your back and pinned viciously in one of his hands, and that’s when you’d know the big finish was coming. His pace would go from bouncing to bruising. But this Sam, your Sam, would stop time if he could, so he slows down even further, winding you closer and closer to the top of the mountain with little figure-eights of his hips. He gazes down at you the same way you’re sure you must gaze up at him. Beautiful, he murmurs under his breath.

You utter another, tight, almost-sob of, “love you so much, Sammy,” and his dick twitches wildly shoved in you to the hilt.

“Ohh—shit,” he chokes out, and his other hand snaps desperately towards yours on the bed. They find each other easily, and you squeeze his hand with everything you’ve got, infusing in him all the love he’s infused in you.

The slow, mounting tsunami of perfection you’ve been moving towards finally overcomes you, and in one long gorgeous slippery rush you cum for Sam. And because your life is a movie—he cums for you too. He rocks faster and falls forward to kiss you, your faces pressed together, your mouths slotting against each other, your pussy squeezing down on him in golden rippling strokes. Sam hisses your name out between his teeth as he cums. You’re lanced straight through by a whole fucking universe of fluttering, flickering pleasure. To be honest, you’re a little pissed about it—because it’s the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, and it’s all because Sam raggedly chants those words to you again and again, laying sloppy, obsessive, head-over-heel kisses all over your face. Love you love you so much baby you feel so good squeezin’ down on me.

You could’ve had this ages ago. How much more time could you have had with him, if you had just stopped being stupid?

Sam’s crazed, sobbing, hitching I love yous somehow become, in true Sam fashion, a low spiral of thank yous. He lays there and clutches you until there’s a Sam-shaped imprint in your body. You’re pretty sure he would stay inside you all night if he could, but you coax him into some cuddling instead, since you both are in desperate need. It’s. It’s new, but it feels cleansing in the holy way.

What feels like hours later, your brain dimly connects to the rest of your body. You’re halfway through detangling Sam’s hair with your fingers as he hides face-first in your chest, pretending he’s not embarrassed that he cried. At least, that’s what you assume. The Winchester mind is a mysterious one, and as much as you would hope to know what Sam’s thinking, the slow hand drawing circles on your hip tells you nothing. Is he shy that he got emotional? That seems silly, since you both sobbed into each other earlier. Is he embarrassed about everything he confessed? Does he regret it?

Just when your train of thought really starts to take the curves of your spiral hard, Sam tiredly croaks into your neck, “I meant what I said, y’know.”

He draws in a lungful of your perfume through his nose, soaking up as much of you as he can possibly get. His hands smooth over your body, innocent and loving, caressing you, memorizing you, begging silently for forgiveness. 

Sam is a dead-silent crier. But you hear him sniffle as he gushes, “God, I love you.”

Maybe if you hadn’t been so tired, you would’ve picked up on it. Or maybe you’d heard it in his voice, seen it, something, and ignored it, hoping it was something else. Everything he felt, he put into a teeny, unmarked box that he’d bury god knows where, far from where anybody could be hurt by it. Sam didn’t—he wouldn’t say that to you. Not unless it was the last time he ever could. He would feel it, but it’d go right into that box where it couldn’t hurt you. You should’ve known.

Lie to me, you’d begged him. 

…And Sam had.

_

The dull realization that you are awake sets in around noon. Noon as in after-noon, well past when you’re normally up and at em’. When you wonder why the hell you slept in so late, you remember last night’s rain, thrashing against the windows all night, and Sam, his face haloed by lamplight and bleeding with quiet resolution.

Sam. Alive, and not going to say yes.

He’d been the one to keep you up all night. With his mouth and his hands, yes, but then afterward he’d been hellbent on talking. Just… talking. You’d been sluggish and cozy and sated after having sex, but no matter how close you came to falling asleep, Sam wouldn’t let it happen. For two straight hours he asked you every question he could come up with to keep you up with him.

Do you remember when we met? Cause’ I do. Do you remember what I said to you? Do you remember what you thought about me? I remember thinking how similar we were, y’know, how much we’d get along. You were so pretty… my whole face went red every time you looked at me. Do you remember…?

Being cuddled, kissed, and protected by the man you love really tempts a girl to doze off, too, so this was not an easy battle. But Sam persisted. He studied your face intently, uttering I love yous even when sleep started to pull you under. Hearing any Winchester drop those words on you still blew your fucking mind, to be honest. Sam especially. But it was romantic as it was worrying, so you’d shut him up with a kiss goodnight and echoed it back to him. Love you, Sammy. It was probably just an anxiety thing, you assumed—Sam, for some fucking reason, was a pretty insecure guy, so you imagined that was his way of making sure you wanted all of this. He seemed… scared. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

The apocalypse was still on. Maybe the world would end tomorrow, or maybe you’d get lucky and live a whole lifetime with Sam. Regardless, he’s never saying yes to Lucifer, and that alone means that there’s still hope for the future. You’re going to spend every second of it making Sam feel wanted.

Sitting up in bed, you scrubbed at your sleepy face with the heel of your hand and stared around the room. Sam was physically incapable of staying asleep after five in the morning, so the familiar evidence of his military-efficient morning routine was all over the place. You smiled to yourself. He’d picked up after the two of you, and had tucked another blanket over you in your sleep. Stupid chivalrous dumbass.

To think, you’d been terrified you’d never see him again just last night.

You push out of bed, only to almost buckle onto the carpet rag-doll style. Even being torturously gentle, that man manages to make you sore. With a very, very happy groan, you hop (and wince) into some clean underwear, then traipse out into your kitchen to show that dork who’s boss.

“Dammit, Samuel, you’re not my maid—” you start to say, but of course, this is Sam, who wouldn’t miss a morning run for anything. Right. That explains your empty kitchen.

…But it’s afternoon. Sam would be back by now. Your gut prickles with a bad feeling, and you superstitiously sweep your apartment, looking for him. His clothes from last night are still sitting in your hamper, his shirt folded neatly in your dresser and his watch on your nightstand. A spike of nausea rolls through you seeing that his jacket is gone—and his boots. But his duffle—it’s. It’s still on your kitchen table. It looks a little smaller than usual, but his books and his laptop are still inside. He probably just ran out to run some silly errand for you, determined to make up for worrying you so much. Yeah.

You force your hunter’s paranoia down to a simmer, padding over to your breakfast table. There’s a big ol’ note smack dab in the center of it, perched on his half-open duffle bag, and you start to play with one of the bracelets Sam left behind as you pick it up.

You cross your fingers, smiling ear-to-ear. “C’mon. All bets on breakfast. Please be getting me breakfast, please be getting me breakfast—”

…That’s not what the note says.

You read it.

Then you read it again, and the hammer falls, crushing the breath out of you and doubling you over the kitchen table. You read the note for the third time, needing to be sure, and the thin sliver of hope you had—maybe you’d just read it wrong, m-maybe he was fine—turns to ash. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

You’re fighting back a surge of ugly, choking tears in an instant. He’s… Sam… he…

Your whole apartment lingers with the heat and goodness of him, like he’d been here just minutes ago. Just seconds. Even your clothes still smell like Sam. Just inhaling it tears chunks out of your reason, like—like you’d just missed him. Clawing around for something to do, you pace in a daze between your bedroom and the front door, desperate to recreate the moment you realized he was gone. You’re still just in the Stanford sweater and your underwear, but you don’t give a single shit and go careening out into the hall, stalking up and down your floor for him—because, b-because Sam wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to you—he would tell you first, he would never leave you in the dark like this—

…But you know Sam. And if it meant fixing his mistakes, saving you, saving everyone… Then he’d say yes in a heartbeat.

“These belong to you. You deserve a world to live in. I’m sorry - Sam.”

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1@lacilou@cevans-winchester @leigh70@ seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1

#uncouthspn #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #user uncouth #sam winchester x reader

[justabigassnerd]

Newest Team Member

Pairing - Ethan Hunt x daughter!reader

Word count - 5,320

Warnings - violence (guns), death, child endangerment (not on Ethan's part), allusions to sex, swearing, angst

Summary - a one night stand changes Ethan's entire life

A/N - hey y'all it's time for another part of the Lil' Hunt universe!! I'm sorry it's taking me so long to churn out fics I swear I am trying. since this is the first fic to come chronologically in the universe despite it being my second Lil' Hunt fic, I will be making sure the masterlist (when it's posted) will be in chronological order although they can work as standalones. anyways I'll stop rambling now, as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ethan often found that he never knew what to do with himself in between missions. His life was entirely taken over by the IMF so being in between missions was a horrible state of limbo for him. He itched to be handed a message detailing his next mission and to be told it would mean he had to get to work almost instantly. With nothing to do but sit in a safe house and twiddle his thumbs until he gets his next mission, Ethan decides to go for a walk around the city he’s in. He wanders the streets until he stumbles across a bar. It wasn’t anything flashy, but he figured he earnt himself a beer or two.

As he walks in the bar he’s greeted by the overwhelming stench of beer and sweat. He skillfully manoeuvres himself through the sea of patrons to get to the bar and order a drink for himself. As he’s handed a beer bottle, he notices a woman sitting a couple of seats away from him and when he sees the forlorn expression on her face, he decides to cross to her.

“Is this seat taken?” Ethan asks, pointing to the empty seat beside the woman as she looks up at him, eyes slightly wide from the shock of Ethan sneaking up on her but she soon relaxes.

“Knock yourself out.” The woman says, gesturing to the seat and turning back to the bar as Ethan seats himself alongside her, placing his beer in front of him.

“I know I’m a complete stranger, but I noticed you looked a bit down. Is everything okay?” Ethan asks, loud enough to be heard over the music and commotion, but quiet enough for the words to stay in between the two of them. She stays silent for a moment before deciding to speak.

“Just an argument with a friend. Nothing can be done now.” She says with a shrug, smiling sadly before lifting her cocktail to her lips and taking a sip.

“Anything I could do to help?” Ethan then asks, always driven to help people as best he can.

“You could tell me your name.” The woman says with a chuckle, looking over at Ethan who lets out a small laugh himself at the realisation that they had in fact not exchanged names.

“I’m Joe. What’s your name?” The fake name comes quickly to Ethan, knowing it’s safer for both her and him to use a fake name in case anyone who may be a danger sees them together. The woman purses her lips slightly, looking him up and down before letting out a laugh.

“Sorry, you don’t look like much of a Joe. Your parents should’ve thought twice about that name. I’m Abby.” She says, introducing herself after having a laugh about Ethan’s fake name. She then holds her hand out for Ethan to shake which he does with a grin.

The pair continue to have drinks while discussing everything and nothing at the same time. Ethan was just grateful that for most of the questions she asked about him, he had preset lies ready to tell her so she wouldn’t find out about the real-life he led. Before they knew it, they heard last orders being called and Ethan suddenly realised how long he’d been at the bar for. But with the handful of beers he had drank he found himself too tipsy to care.

“So… Joe, your place or mine?”

Ethan woke up the next morning alone in a hotel room. He furrowed his eyebrows as he thought about how he got there in the first place, his memory fuzzy from the night before. He sits up slowly, blinking to adjust to his surroundings as he glances around, immediately catching sight of his clothes strewn all over the floor. When he realises what happened his eyes widen in horror, and he hurriedly gets changed before searching for any kind of note Abby could have left for him since she was nowhere to be found. As he prepares to leave the room, memories flash in his mind of coming back here with Abby and ending up in bed with her. After Ethan has changed and determined that Abby is gone with very little chance of returning, he exits the hotel, retreating to the safe house quickly vowing to not do something like that again.

Ethan would not see Abby again until almost ten months later.

Ethan was placed on a team tracking down a group that was rapidly becoming a bigger threat. When they first emerged, the IMF thought very little of them and figured local police would track them down and stop them before they got any bigger and their faith in that assumption was proven when they disappeared before reappearing after nearly ten months. Ethan and his team had very little trouble in tracking down the group’s main operating warehouse and when they entered the building, they were only moderately surprised to see a group of henchmen with guns staring them down. Ethan and his team were of course very quick to pull out their own guns and get locked in a standoff. Every person itching to pull the trigger but not wanting to initiate a gunfight in fear of injury and death. A couple of minutes pass and all of a sudden, a door is thrown open and a woman marches in. A woman Ethan recognises.

Abby storms in, glancing around at her men before noticing the team opposite her and a sadistic smirk comes to her face when she recognises Ethan.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Joe… or should I say, Ethan Hunt?” Abby says, pacing gleefully before she approaches one of her henchmen, whispering in his ear and sending him off while Ethan’s eyes widen slightly at the fact, she knew his name.

“Oh, don’t act all surprised Hunt. I knew who you were the moment I saw you in that bar. You can’t be one of the IMF’s top agents and expect us to not know who you are. You caused us a lot of problems Hunt.” Abby says, a ferocity covering her face that Ethan had never expected to come from her. Ethan struggled to process her words, surprised he never figured out she knew who he was or that she was working for the group that he had been tracking.

“So you guys hid because I met you? You were that scared of me that you hid away for almost ten months?” Ethan asks, grip tightening on his gun as he stares Abby down who merely laughs at his words.

“We’re not scared of you. You have one hell of an ego to think that. No, in fact, it’s hard to run a business like this when you’re pregnant.” As if it was cued, the henchman who had been sent out of the room mere minutes ago emerged with a baby in hand. Abby takes the baby and holds them with a look of disgust.

“You know I never wanted kids. But when a one-night stand like you knocked me up. I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to get you off our damn backs.” Abby says and Ethan’s eyes widen at her words, lowering his gun slightly to study the baby in her arms.

“Oh yes, Ethan. This brat is yours. We ran a DNA test and everything the moment she was born.” Abby says, glee overtaking her features as Ethan lowers the gun completely, shocked at the revelation.

“Ethan, what are you doing?” One of his teammates, Jamie, hisses as he notices Ethan lowering his gun.

“Hunt, get it together she’s bullshitting you.” Elsie says harshly, glaring over at Ethan who doesn’t lift his gun, still in shock with his mind swimming with a thousand thoughts.

“I’ve had enough of this.” Daniel mutters, pulling the trigger on his gun and the bullet hits one of the henchmen in his heart. That action caused a gunfight between the two groups. Ethan and his team dove behind cover while the henchmen did the same. Ethan glared over at his teammates who simply shrugged and continued to fire back at the enemy. Taking a quick peek over the box he had hidden himself behind, Ethan was shocked to see that Abby had run off and that the baby was on the floor in the middle of this gunfight. The second Ethan heard the cries of his baby girl it was like something snapped inside him. He steadied his hands and took out the remaining henchmen like he was doing nothing more than playing catch in the park.

“Go and check the rest of the building!” Ethan yells over to the team, already sprinting forward to grab the baby girl who is still sobbing.

The second you were scooped up into Ethan’s arms you began to settle down, tears still in your eyes but Ethan began to wipe them away carefully, holding you closer to his chest as his team thundered down the halls in search of other members of the group.

“I got you, sweetheart. It’s okay.” Ethan whispers soothingly to you as he begins to bounce you lightly in his arms moving away from the bodies that littered the floor and instead moving towards the entrance, continuing to bounce you gently as he waits for his team. He hears no gunshots, and no evidence of anyone else in the building, giving away to him that those of the group that were in the building when the fight happened, had run for their lives.

“Anyone who was here ran for it. This place is deserted. Even that girlfriend of yours ditched.” Jamie says, taunting slightly as Ethan’s jaw clenched.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Ethan says lowly, glaring at Jamie who shrugs unapologetically.

“Well, you knocked her up.” Daniel accuses, pointing at you snuggled in Ethan’s arms making him hold you slightly tighter.

“I don’t think she’s yours. They’re lying to you Ethan to get you out of the way they said it themselves. Ditch the baby and let’s go.” Elsie says harshly, her words almost a hiss as she looks at Ethan.

“Whether she’s mine or not I can’t just leave a baby here. She’s coming back with us.” Ethan says firmly, glaring at each of his team members in turn who all shrink away from the intensity of Ethan’s glare. Ethan may not have confirmation of whether you were actually his baby or not, but everything in him was screaming that Abby was telling the truth. She may have been using this information to mess with him mentally, and his team was convinced there was no truth to her words. But Ethan’s heart knew different, and when he reached out to gently run the back of his index finger along your cheek and you grabbed it in your small hand, he had no doubt in his mind that you were his baby girl.

“We should head out. We don’t want to get caught by any local police or anything. We’ll get back stateside as soon as possible.” Daniel says and the team quickly exit the building, climbing into the van. As the van begins to drive off, Ethan notices that you’ve begun to doze off and a small smile comes to his face. On the journey, Elsie manages to find some plane tickets back to America, but all the flights have different times. Ethan was granted the earliest flight back which meant the team had to quickly put together a passport for you as well at Ethan’s request to ensure you could make it back to America as well.

When the team made it back to the safe house, Ethan packed his belongings, keeping you in his arms because the moment he tried to lay you on the bed so he could pack quicker you began to cry, only soothed by the feeling of being in Ethan’s arms.

“Okay, we’ve got a bit of time to kill before our flight so let’s get you some supplies, huh?” Ethan asks you softly as he grabs his bag and smiles down at you. He knew he wasn’t going to get a response out of you, but the way you looked up at him curiously was enough for him. After exiting the safe house, giving his team no more than a half-hearted goodbye as he went, Ethan heads in the direction of the nearest shop that sells baby supplies and heads inside, grabbing the basics just to last you until he gets back to America and can buy more.

After getting what you need, he heads to the airport and finds somewhere to change you before having to go into one of the airport's cafes to ask if they could heat a bottle for you which they do so with a smile. After getting the bottle back and at the perfect temperature, Ethan finds himself somewhere to sit and gently offers you the bottle which you grab eagerly, drinking as quick as you can.

“Whoa, sweetheart, slow down a little. Don’t want anything bad happening from you drinking this too fast.” Ethan warns softly, moving the bottle away from your mouth as you squirm to reach out for it. He figured you might’ve been at least a little hungry but the way you were acting indicated that you were more than a little hungry. Ethan gently brought the bottle back to your lips as he began to wonder if this was something he needed to be worried about or if he was just reading too much into it. After all, he had never really been around babies before. When you finish the bottle, Ethan has to think about what to do next, he knew some basics of baby care but some of it was still fuzzy in his memory. A woman noticed Ethan’s concerned expression as he looked down at you and took pity on him, telling her toddler to stick with his dad before getting up from her seat and crossing to him.

“Forgive me if I’m intruding but do you need a hand?” The woman asks gently, looking down at Ethan as he looks up at her.

“I just can’t remember what I’m supposed to do after a feed.” Ethan admits, a slight blush of embarrassment flushing across his face as he sits you up on his lap.

“You’re already on the right track. Sitting your baby up is good and then gently burp them just to make sure there’s no trapped air. After that, they’ll be right as rain.” The woman says, her kind smile never leaving her face as Ethan’s eyes widen in realisation, instantly positioning you correctly and gently patting your back.

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver.” Ethan says gratefully, smiling up at the woman who shakes her head.

“Just helping out a fellow parent. Someone helped me out when I had my first baby, so I do my best to help people out now too.” The woman says softly, nodding at Ethan before bidding him goodbye and crossing over to her family. Ethan watches as the little boy hurls himself into his mother’s arms when she returns and Ethan softens, looking down at you where you had settled on his shoulder after the burping. When it came time for him to board the plane, you had practically dozed off in his arms. He boarded smoothly and found his seat, keeping you securely in his lap as he settled himself in his seat. You remained sleeping until the plane began to take off and your eyes opened, and you looked up at Ethan with teary eyes, clearly scared of the engines and feeling of taking off.

“Hey, it’s okay sweetheart. It seems scary and loud, but I promise you’re safe.” Ethan says soft enough to provide some comfort as you stare at him, reaching your little arms up and placing your hands on his cheeks, bringing a smile to his face that in turn brings a smile to yours. Ethan bounced you on his knee ever so slightly which made you giggle before snuggling back into Ethan’s chest, moving your hands from his face to his shirt where you grabbed a handful of his shirt and began dozing again. Ethan braced a hand on your back and rested his head against the seat and let his eyes slip shut to sleep for a while. He only had to get up once to change you and the rest of the flight was smooth and he soon found himself back in America. He was tired from the day he had, his sleep on the plane helped but he was sure he needed a proper sleep in a proper bed. Despite having the thought of wanting to do nothing more than collapse into bed, Ethan had to make a quick pitstop at the IMF headquarters to talk to the Director about what happened. He begins the journey from the airport to the IMF headquarters, entering the building once he arrives, avoiding the stares of fellow IMF personnel who stare at him with raised eyebrows when they see the baby in his arms.

“Director Brassel, forgive me for intruding but could I have a word?” Ethan asks, knocking on the Director’s office and entering upon gaining permission.

“Ethan, back so soon? And… you have a baby?” Director Brassel says, faltering when he sees Ethan setting down his bag and adjusting the way he’s holding you so you can be more comfortable in his arms.

“That’s what I wanted to talk about, sir.” Ethan says, launching into the full story of what happened from when he met Abby that night in the bar to right now. He saw the variety of emotions swimming through his Director’s eyes as he told the story and all he could hope as he spoke was that he wouldn’t be cast out of the IMF. By the time Ethan finishes his story he’s almost out of breath, having explained everything he deemed important.

“Ethan… that is a real turn of events. And you’re sure this baby is yours?” Director Brassel says, easing himself up from his seat and slowly making his way over to Ethan.

“I was going to head down to the med bay after this to get her checked out and also to have a DNA test run. But I’m confident already in saying that she’s mine.” Ethan says, bouncing you slightly as you let out a giggle. Brassel stops himself in front of Ethan looking down at you and then at Ethan.

“May I?” He asks, holding his hands up as Ethan looks down at you and then back up at Brassel before nodding and handing you over to him so he can get a look at you. However, the moment you were out of Ethan’s hands you began to cry, squirming and reaching in Ethan’s direction as Brassel quickly handed you back over, your cries quickly turning into sniffles as you settled in Ethan’s arms once again.

“I am so sorry, sir.” Ethan apologises, wiping your tears gently and rocking you to soothe you.

“No need to apologise. She clearly feels very safe with you.” Brassel dismisses with a chuckle, smiling at Ethan. Looking down at you one more time, Ethan is reminded of what he came here to ask about in the first place.

“Sir, I was wondering if I could have a couple of days off? Once I get the DNA results back, I will need time to think about my next move, whether I give her up, keep her, or maybe there’s a secret third option I don’t know, but I’ll need time to think about it. As much as I enjoy the work I do here I need to have a clear head for whatever I do next.” Ethan asks as you snuggle into him, not paying attention to either of the two men anymore. To Ethan’s relief, Brassel’s smile doesn’t leave his face and he nods.

“Of course. Take as much time as you need and just get in contact when you’re ready to get back into the field.” He says, making the tension that had been sitting within Ethan dissipate almost immediately upon hearing the words. Now relaxed, Ethan nods slightly.

“Thank you so much, sir.” Ethan says gratefully, giving his Director a quick nod of acknowledgement before being dismissed and heading down to the med bay to get you checked over by the medic. When Ethan reaches the med bay, he’s greeted by one of the medics and ushered into one of the private rooms.

“Ethan, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Jane asks as both adults sit themselves down on chairs.

“I rescued this little girl earlier today. I just wanted to have her checked over and make sure everything’s okay.” Ethan says, drawing Jane’s attention to the baby in Ethan’s arms and she nods before looking back up at Ethan.

“What else can I do for you? I can tell by the look on your face that there’s more to this story.” Jane says, beginning to dig around in her equipment for the things she needs to give you a check-up.

“She’s the daughter of a woman I slept with almost ten months ago. There’s a good chance she’s my baby so I need to have a DNA test done.” Ethan admits, slightly embarrassed that Jane had seen through his façade so quickly. Thankfully, Jane nods and digs around for the equipment she needs for the DNA test while encouraging Ethan to sit you up on his lap so she can examine you. You didn’t take too kindly to the poking and prodding, as well as the cold stethoscope that was used to listen to your heart and lungs. You didn’t like when you had to be sat down out of Ethan’s embrace to have your weight checked but soon settled once you were back in his arms. Finally, Jane took a small swab and rubbed it on the inside of your cheek to collect what she needed for the DNA test. While Jane recorded everything and put the swab into the DNA tester, Ethan gave you all the fuss and attention you required as you giggled.

“Well, the good news is, her heart and lungs are strong, and she seems to be a strong girl. However, she is a little underweight for her age, so I’d just suggest giving her a little extra when you feed her, just so she gets that weight up a little.” Jane says, looking at Ethan who nods, realising that Abby and her group must not have been feeding you enough and he tenses his jaw to prevent his anger from coming out through words. Before another word could be spoken between the two, the DNA test machine prints something out and Jane picks it up, eyes scanning the words before looking back up at Ethan who without thinking, begins to hold his breath in anticipation.

“Well, congratulations Ethan this little bundle of joy is yours.” Jane says, a soft smile covering her face as she looks up at Ethan who releases the breath he had been holding before smiling with a nod in Jane’s direction before looking down at you as you let out a giggle, seemingly sensing Ethan’s happiness. Ethan ducked down to press a tender kiss to the top of your head and his heart swelled as you giggled further before the realisation of his decision hit him like a ton of bricks. He now had to make the decision to keep you or give you away.

Thanking Jane, Ethan gets up, leaves the room and then exits the IMF building before making his way back to his designated safe house. Once he reaches the safe house, he feeds and burps you before pulling his phone out of his pocket, staring at Luther’s contact in his phone, debating whether to have Benji and Luther come over to help him make a clear decision. After a few minutes of internal debate, Ethan texts Luther, telling him to get to the safe house as quickly as possible and to bring Benji with him. Bouncing you gently as he looks down at you, Ethan can’t help but smile.

“I guess I need to figure out a good name for you, huh sweetheart?”

By the time the two men arrived, Ethan had changed you and the two of you were now dozing on the sofa but the entrance of Benji and Luther stirred Ethan who quickly shushed the two the moment they came into his line of sight, carefully getting up from the sofa and crossing to them, ignoring the look of shock and confusion that covered their faces at the sight of a baby nestled in Ethan’s arms.

“Ethan… have you stolen a baby?” Benji asks, eyes wide as he looks from the bundle in Ethan’s arms to Ethan’s face. When Ethan looked over at Luther he could see a similar expression, however, Luther was better at hiding his shock than Benji. Luther’s shock all laid within his eyes whereas Benji’s shock was across his face as clear as day.

“No Benji, I didn’t steal a baby. I slept with someone a few months back and well… she ended up being a part of that group I was tracking and when she showed me her, I just couldn’t leave her behind so, Benji, Luther, this is my baby girl.” Ethan says introducing you to the team despite the fact you were still sleeping happily in his arms. He then watches Benji and Luther process the fact Ethan admitted to sleeping with someone from an enemy group, albeit accidentally, before they focus on you.

“Does she have a name?” Luther asks, a softness to his voice that not many get to hear as he watches you sleep against his chest.

“I’ve been doing some thinking and I think I got it. y/n Hunt.” Ethan says with a gentle smile, looking from you up to Benji and Luther who break out into the softest of smiles.

“Is this why you wanted us here? To meet her?” Luther then asks, watching as Ethan’s jaw tenses slightly as he shakes his head ever so slightly, the movement so minute it could’ve been missed entirely if Benji and Luther had not had their full attention on Ethan.

“Yes and no. I wanted you guys to meet her, of course. You’re two of the people I trust most. But I’ve got a difficult choice to make. I need to decide whether I keep her or give her away.” Ethan explains, looking at his closest friends, a deep pleading in his eyes that makes the two men exchange a look before focusing back on Ethan.

“This isn’t an easy choice, Ethan. It’s a dangerous life we lead.” Benji starts, his brain working as fast as possible to weigh up every pro and con of both situations.

“But we know the best ways to keep her safe. If she’s sent away, people could find out she’s yours, especially if that group tracks her down.” Luther then says, countering Benji’s point gently, both of them sharing a quick glance as they realise the other has made a valid argument. The three men share different viewpoints on the pros and cons of each decision. After about ten to fifteen minutes of debating Luther speaks up.

“We’ve debated this as much as we can, but this is up to you at the end of the day. She’s your little girl and we know you’ll pick what’s best for her. And we’ll support you every step of the way.” He says gently, watching as Ethan looks down at you, gently brushing your soft wisps of hair away from your face as you curl closer into his chest. Benji and Luther could see the internal debate going on within Ethan, how he struggled with knowing that you could be in danger regardless of what he decided to do. After a minute of silent debate, Ethan looks back up at his team.

“I’m keeping her. She’ll be safer with me, and I can protect her from anyone who would try to hurt her.” Ethan concludes, watching as Benji and Luther nod with gentle smiles.

“Looks like we have a new teammate now.” Benji says with a soft chuckle, looking over at Luther who lets out a light scoff, shaking his head at Benji’s words.

“Can I hold her?” Benji then suddenly asks, looking at Ethan for permission who hesitates.

“You can try, but so far, she’s not liked being out of my arms for more than a second so please don’t be offended if she starts crying.” Ethan says, handing you over to Benji, trying to be as gentle as possible to not rouse you. As Benji held you, your eyes blinked open, and you looked up at the man who was now holding you in place of Ethan and Ethan found himself once again holding his breath. To his shock however, you just smiled up at Benji and snuggled further into his arms, giggling at the shocked expression on Benji’s face before a huge grin crossed his face. Both Ethan and Luther could tell how instantly smitten Benji was with you as he watched you quietly as you reached up and grabbed his pinkie finger in your hand, melting Benji even further.

“I’ve known her for about ten minutes, but I’d already die for her.” Benji states, looking up at Ethan who can’t do much more than smile back at Benji, fully understanding how Benji is feeling because it’s exactly how Ethan felt himself when he held you for the first time and saw how you settled so quickly in his arms. Benji continued to coo and fawn over you while you just giggled at the light tone in his voice, clearly as smitten with Benji as he was with you.

“May I?” Luther then asks, looking at Ethan who nods before glancing at Benji who passes you over hesitantly, visibly upset at having to give you to Luther. Just like you did with Benji, you accepted being in Luther’s arms instantly, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and curling closer as Luther watched, melting with each movement. Ethan and Benji had never seen Luther melt like this. He was usually so stoic, but you had reduced him into a puddle within seconds.

“You comfy there, Lil’ Hunt?” Luther says softly, so softly in fact that Ethan and Benji had almost missed the comment entirely. When they realised what he said, the two melted further at the nickname that they were sure would stick. Luther continued to talk to you in whispered tones as Ethan and Benji watched on.

“Shit, I forgot to buy more things for her and now all the shops are closed.” Ethan swears quietly, immediately ending up on the receiving end of a death glare from both Benji and Luther.

“It’s okay, we can figure all that out tomorrow. For now, I think little y/n deserves all the fuss in the world.” Benji says, before asking Luther if he could hold you again. The two of the men begin to bicker lightly with each other as they argue over who gets to hold you while Ethan watches with an amused grin. It was reliving for Ethan to see how Benji and Luther took to you immediately, but it was a million times better to see how quickly you took to them, evidence to him that you felt safe around his two teammates, and he knew he could trust them to look after you no matter what.

That day, Ethan and his team got a new mission, a permanent one, to keep you safe and protected no matter what.

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd writes #lil' hunt #lil' hunt universe #mission impossible #mission impossible fallout #mission impossible rogue nation #mission impossible dead reckoning #ethan hunt mission impossible #ethan hunt #ethan hunt x reader #ethan hunt x daughter!reader #x daughter!reader #tom cruise #tom cruise mission impossible

[vcikera]

megumi fushiguro x black f!reader

(i was actually the bed in the second pic btw! 😊)

contains: smut (so expect anything) and if you see any grammar errors you didn’t.

~~~~~

being rivals with megumi is like a rock in your shoe that you can’t get out. it’s like hes everywhere no matter how hard you try to get rid of him, he just seems to come back every time, again and again.

you’ve been rivals and hated each other for so long now you can’t even remember how it started but you just hate his guts and he hates yours too. his stupid hair and stupid face and those stupid eyes of his you definitely don’t lost in from time to time.

no. you hate him

today the universe just seems to love messing with you and making your day worse. you had been assigned to get rid of this curse at a local hotel and it’s been scaring the residents away so the business has been losing customers. gojo and nanami said they partnered you up with someone so you both could work together and get rid of the curse but they won’t tell you who.

“quit bothering me y/n”, gojo said annoyed as you asked him who you were partnered with for the thousandth time today. “no, just tell me who and i’ll leave you alone”, you said to him, trying to get information outta him.

“i said no already, if you don’t leave me alone i’ll leave you on the side of the road”, gojo annoyingly said to you, getting frustrated with you.

you groan as you sat back in your seat. gojo was driving you to the hotel and you had to stay there for a week so you can be able to learn more about the curse and how to defeat it without getting hurt or causing any damage to the hotel or anyone else that’s left in that haunted place.

“we’re almost there”, you heard gojo say but you side eyed him in the rear view mirror and looked out the window. “y/n you must wanna sleep on the streets with the hobos tonight”

“you already look like a hobo with that lil dumbass blindfold, looking like you stared in birdbox”, you mumbled under your breath. “you wanna say that louder again for the people up front?”, gojo said as the car came to a stop, finally stopping at the hotel.

“both of you need to shut the hell up”, nanami said from the passenger seat. you screamed because he jumped scared you, you honestly forgot he was also in the car. “nanami please don’t do that again, almost scared the black off me”, you put your fingers to your neck to check your pulse to see if you’re still alive.

“i’ve been here the whole time how did you not know”, nanami sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “i didn’t know okay, just forget that just happened”, you looked away.

gojo and nanami both stepped out the car so you did too, grabbing your bag that you brought with you that includes everything you’ll need for the next few days. “i swear if i get killed im hunting both yall asses”, you said to nanami and gojo as closed the car door. “even as a ghost imma still beat your ass”, gojo replied back to you. you scoff and side eyed him.

jack frost looking ass

you were unpacking your things a few minutes later after gojo and nanami checked you into the hotel and gave your room keys. of course you were thinking about who your roommate would be, hoping it was either nobara or itadori but mostly nobara cause you didn’t wanna have to share a bed with itadori since gojo decided to be dick and only get one room and one bed for you and your partner.

after unpacking your things you were standing there staring at the bed thinking about how you were gonna share it with your partner when you heard a voice behind you groan, “you gotta be fucking kidding”. turning around to see megumi.

“oh hell no, no no no no”, you said to him as you gave him a stank look. you were gonna kill gojo.

“gojo must wanna die”, megumi said as he mumbled under his breath. something you both finally agree on for once, what a surprise. “why out of all people does it have to be you”, megumi groaned as he dropped his bag on little couch in the corner of the room.

“nigga don’t act like i want this too”, you replied back to him, already ready to kill this curse and leave. “i would prefer anyone with you”, he said again. “yeah i think i get your point”, you side eyed him.

he sighs as he plops on the bed, man spreading as he laid down all spread out. you stood there with your arms crossed looking down at him.

not gonna lie right now he kinda- no

“you realize there’s only one bed right and not even a couch big enough for someone else to sleep on?”, you asked him but was it even a question if it was obvious. “yeah i know, you’re gonna sleep on the floor right?”, he faked smiled at you as he opened his eyes to look at you. the way he looked at you just now gave you a weird feeling in your stomach you’ve never felt around him before. you must be hungry fr.

“you’re funny, that’s real hilarious, look at my laughing face”, you said as you pointed to your face, giving him a straight face. he got up and stood in front of you as he sized you up. he looks down at you, “relax y/l/n, i might not like you but i’m a gentleman enough to not let you sleep on the floor”

why was that kinda-

“so you gonna let me sleep on the bed?”, you asked almost not believing because what if you wake up the next morning on the floor. still looking up at him, he answered back, “yes, we can just a pillow between us or whatever”.

hmm, so megumi actually wants to be within 6 feet near you, how weird even for you. it was odd but you weren’t complaining, you weren’t gonna sleep on no hotel floor. “suspicious but i’ll trust you it for now”, you walked away as you went into the bathroom to change into something that was considered pjs right now.

after changing into your pjs, you walk out the bathroom to finally go sleep now since it was almost midnight, megumi was on his side of the bed with a pillow in the middle and he was shirtless and in nothing but some grey sweatpants. you’re not gonna lie, he was definitely looking like a 12 pound seafood boil, spicy.

“are you not cold?”, you asked him as you laid down on your side of the bed and put the covers over you. “nah i’m kinda hot rn”

you definitely are hot

“suit yourself i guess”, you said as you took out your phone and went on it. “i will y/l/n”, megumi said. you rolled your eyes, why does he always feel the need to be cocky. “yo y/n”, megumi called out your name. “what”, you responded to him and looked up from your phone to see what he had to say now.

“make sure not to cuddle up to me when i’m sleeping cause i know you got a little crush on me or whatever”, he smirked at you teasingly as he had his back against the bed frame while crossing his arms with one leg up.

you scoff at his comment. “why’re you so full of yourself, if it’s anyone that has a crush it’s you cause i mean who wouldn’t like me”, you shrugged and looked at him. “that’s actually kinda funny that you think that i would like you”, he said. “i’m just saying”, you shrugged again.

“wanna bet then?”, megumi said. “bet on what”, you turned your phone off and put it on the nightstand, getting intrigued in what megumi was getting at. “who ever touches the other person first likes that person”, he said as i smiled at you. “is that just some lame bet so you can touch me?”, you laughed at him slightly.

“please, if i wanted to touch you i would’ve ever since”, megumi said truthfully. “save your love confession for another time fushiguro”, you laughed at him again. “but i’m in”

“how about a staring contest to make it ‘harder’, megumi said. you nodded as you removed the pillow from in the middle and sat next to him but not too close. “alright, 3 2 1, go”, he counted down as you both began staring at each other. both of you looking into each other’s eyes and being so close, what could possibly happen

both of you have been looking into each others eyes for about a minute now, it’s like every second you get closer and closer to each other, at this point you can feel his breath on your face and even your lips.

you got an idea to distract him so you’ll win so you began to move your hand closer to his leg, your fingers moving slowly up his thighs. “what’re trying to do y/l/n”, megumi said lowly as he looked at your lips and back up to your eyes quickly. “what do you mean?”, you said, acting clueless to him.

as your fingers move higher and higher up you can feel his muscles in his thighs tense up, you notice his adam’s apple move up and down as he swallows. you feel his hand on your other hand as he squeezes it gently. finally reaching up, you slowly trace your fingers up to his crotch as you as you feel something hard. that’s when he squeezes your hand tighter.

that’s it you’ve found his weakness, you’re definitely gonna win now. you move your hand up and down as you rub his dick through this sweats, his hand still squeezing yours tightly. you can notice him struggling as you hear him breathe out. you move your hand up to the waistband of his sweatpants. you knew you were playing with fire but you didn’t care, this was bond to happen some day.

you got the courage to reach into his pants but that was it, megumi blinked and looked away as he puts his head down and sighed. the room had been quiet the whole time, while you were teasing him and the two of you staring at each other.

since you won, normally you would rub it in his face and laugh at him but tonight for some reason you felt confident so you took your hand out his sweatpants and straddled him. megumi knew exactly what you were thinking as he began to kiss your cheek and then your other cheek as he kisses his way down your face. from your jaw to your neck as he attacked your neck with kisses and left hickeys and marks all over.

you moan a little as you feel his hands began to roam all over your body as he put his hands under your shirt and grabbed your waist. moving your waist aso you can grind on his clothed dick as he continued to kiss all over you as you had your hands in his hair, gripping it. he took your shirt off as he reached behind to unclasp your bra.

he instantly began sucking on your titties as his fingers played and pinched the other one, then he switched, giving both your breast the same amount of attention. after he was finished leaving hickeys and marks all over your breast too he looked up at you, “can i kiss you?” you didn’t have to answer as you kissed him instead.

you moan into the kiss as his hands find your waist again, using you and moving you to grind against him again as he kissed you hungrily. you slip your tongue into his mouth and he deepens the kiss as he explores your mouth as tiny fireworks go off in your stomach right.

you were becoming wet more and more, you needed him. “i need you megumi”, you said through the kisses. “i know y/n, i know” he replied back. he turned you over so you’re laying on your back on the bed as he’s on top of you. he kisses your forehead then both your cheeks and then your lips as he kisses his way down your body until he reaches between your legs.

he looks up at you as he takes your shorts off a long with your panties but you look away, not wanting him to see your face. “look at me, just keep your eyes on me”, he said after taking your shorts and panties off. he slowly kisses your thighs and also leaves marks on them too. when you gets to your pussy he waste no time.

he licks a long strip up your heat and blows on it after. you moan because that blow caught you off guard, he begins sucking on your clit as you sat up and grab his hair as you balanced yourself on your other arm. you moan again but a little louder this time as you feel megumi insert a finger inside you and then a second one as moves them in and out of you slowly.

“f-fuck megumi”, you moan his name as that gives him more motivation to speed up his pace. his fingers moving in and out of you fast as he sucks in your clit. he hums to himself, your pussy being the best thing he’s tasted in a long time.

you feel yourself reaching your climax as you began to moan more and grip his hair tighter. megumi knowing you’re about to come take his fingers out of your cunt and replaces it with his tongue as he tongue fucks you. few seconds later you cum all over his tongue as you moan his name and he groans as your thighs tighten around his head and squeezes.

he licks up all your juices while looking at you as he grins. “sorry for almost smothering you with my thighs”, you said guilty to him. “i’m not complaining, i love my thick thigh girl”

did he just his ‘his girl’

“lay down on your stomach for me and put your ass up”

you do as he says as you hear him take his sweatpants and boxers off. a few seconds later you feel the tip of megumi’s dicks near your entrance. “tell me you want this y/n”, megumi said. “i want it”

“say it again”

“i want it-“, your sentence was cut short as you feel megumi ram into you, his dick hitting your g-spot immediately. you and megumi both moaned at the same time but you cover your mouth with your hands as you put your face into the pillows. megumi grabs from the front of your neck and brings you up, “let them hear you, i don’t care how loud you are, let them hear how good i’m making you feel y/n”, he says into your ear as he kisses lips.

something about the way he says your name while he’s inside you, struggling not to whimper or come instantly. he puts back down on the bed as he grabs your ass to reposition you again.

he starts to move in and out of you slowly as his grip on your ass tightens with each slow stroke he’s giving you, preparing you and making sure you can take it when he starts going faster and harder. “m-megumi?”, you whimper his name out. “yes y/n?”

“can you go f-faster?”

“you’re gonna have to speak up louder than that”, he said. he totally knows what you said, he’s just trying to see you suffer to speak while his thick and long ass dick is inside you. “go faster please”, you said a little louder this time. “since you said please, i will”

he begins to start going fast and with each stroke he goes faster and faster and deeper. at this point your moans and whimpers mixed with his groans and the clapping noises are bouncing off the walls as he’s giving you backshots.

“fuck y/n, who knew you could take me so well”, he said as he grips your hips tighter, not stopping once to let you rest. you moan at his words, your thighs getting a little sore.

“gonna come”, you moan. “good, i want you to come on my pretty dick for me alright?”. you nodded and hummed a mhm. “i said use your words y/n”

“y-yes megumi, i wanna come on your dick~”, you said as he hits your g-spot over and over. he’s trying to put you in a wheelchair.

“i’m close too”, megumi said. a few minutes later his strokes starts to become sloppier, you came on his dick as you whimper his name and a few seconds later he comes inside you as he whimpers under his breath. still moving in and out of you slowly to let you ride out your high as he slows down after a few seconds.

he pulls out and you feel his tongue inside you as he licks up all your juices mixed with his, not caring. after cleaning you up he turns your around and kisses you deeply as you taste both your juices on his lips.

he falls on top of you as you wrap your legs around him and play with his hair as he lays his head on your chest while playfully fondling with your breasts.

“i won by the way, you touched me first so you like me”, he said into your chest. you laugh as you bring his head up to look at you, “i still won the staring contest tho”.

“at what cost tho”, he replied back. “shut up”, you rolled your eyes as he says “make me”. you kissed his and he kisses you back and the kiss turns into a make out session.

“round two?”, megumi says as you laugh at him

—-

on the 3rd day you and megumi defeated the curse so you were both able to go home. gojo and nanami came to pick you both up and gojo saw you limping slightly as you walked over to the car. “what got you limping like that?” he asked. “the curse”, you lied as you got into the car but he saw the faint marks and hickeys on your neck as him and megumi both grinned at each other and dabbed each other up.

—————

thank you guys for reading! it was my first story on here so i hope you liked it and hope it wasn’t too long 😭

#anime #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi x y/n #megumi imagine #x reader #x reader smut #fem reader #black reader #smut fic #imagine #black!reader #black!y/n #black!writer #megumi x black reader #megumi x female reader

[albatris]

Since it's come to my attention a lot of folks don't know ATDAO....... here's an intro post :3c

All the Doors are Open! A funky lil sci-fi-ish, fantasy-ish, horror-ish tale about some South Australian kids going about their daily lives... oh, and also reality is collapsing and cracks between universes called Ports are appearing, letting otherworldly energy leak through and wreak havoc.

Four plotlines intertwine into one big stupid plotline, n the key players are as follows:

Tris Greer, panic attack in human form, who just witnessed a freak car accident that somehow caused his older brother to blip out of existence. The relevant authorities prove supremely unhelpful, so he takes it upon himself to find the truth and bring his brother home, even if it means a daring trip into an unstable air bubble between dimensions - a task easier said than done when he’s anxious enough just leaving the house.

Yun Sung-won, edgy intimidating badass hiding nooo insecurities or trauma whatsoever, who can suddenly bend and break the reality around her the same way Ports do. The shiny new destructive powers might be kinda cool - if the crack in reality inside her wasn’t chaotically deteriorating... and if she didn’t work for the Department of Interdimensional Instabilities, whose whole shtick is eliminating dangerous interdimensional energies.

Shara Aleng, conspiracy enthusiast and amateur paranormal investigator, who's new in town and on a mission. She's been able to see cracks in reality no one else notices since she was a kid, and, armed with just a handheld radio, she's mapping interdimensional fault lines and hunting down the source of the apocalypse.

Kai Lancaster, peddler of haunted antiques and mender of cracks in reality, who went to investigate an abandoned house for an hour and emerged to find seven years had passed. They're now grappling with the emotional and social repercussions of their trip out of time, having been tossed into a life that's moved on without them. And how can they try and re-enter their family's lives when their family has spent seven years grieving them and fighting to get back to any sense of normality?

Anyway. It's a cheesy power of friendship story about the human capacity for kindness and connection! It’s also full of horrifying things that will make your skin crawl <3 We got existential horror, we got body horror, we got cosmic horror... we got love and courage and joy in the face of despair! Also, we got mentally ill heroes, including one with psychosis and one with a dissociative disorder, whose experiences are never demonised or used as cheap plot twists :3

Here is the them:

I'm not posting much about it at the moment but it's my longest-standing WIP and very close to my heart :D I've been working on some version of it since I was 16! Lemme know at any time if you wanna be added to the tag list~ I can't guarantee I'll work on it soon but I CAN guarantee I'll work on it sometime!

#atdao #writeblr #I'm doing a complete overhaul of the plot #i think maybe an equal delve into all four povs which is gonna be a lot of work but fhdjskdj doable maybe

[mcdonaldsplayground]

| actually the worst | bonus part

aged up ao’nung x f!reader (18+)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | bonus part

summary: a few years after meeting the metkayina people (and quaritch trying to kill your entire family), you finally get a chance to bring ao’nung to see your former home. however, there’s more to think about than just touring him around the forest.

includes: 18+ content (not anything actually spicy, just more suggestive), teasing, swearing, suggestive remarks, ao’nung being a cocky bastard again😮‍💨

word count: 5.4k

a/n: okay so in this universe neteyam is still alive because i simply cannot process complex emotions at this time😀 also please note that i made up the general plot here just to fit the story but obviously it’s probably gonna be very different in the next avatar films😅 ALSO, i’m so sorry to anyone who was expecting smut or like, in-depth descriptions, but this is as spicy as my writing is gonna get for now hehe. hope you enjoy this lil’ bonus part. i’m gonna get to writing some other stuff soon:)

“Okay, everyone! We’re leaving in ten minutes so if you’re not ready by then, you’re flying by yourself!” Your father called, looking frantic as he saddled up his ikran and tried to herd everyone over at the same time. Jake always went full dad-mode before these trips.

Since the battle on the ship with Quaritch a few years ago, things had finally calmed down and allowed your family the ability to travel back home to the forest and the Omatikaya clan. However, the island had become your home too, so you tried to split your time between each. As much as you loved returning to the forest, though, there was someone that you found increasingly difficult to leave behind.

Ao’nung. The most annoying person you had ever met. Also, often to your chagrin, your boyfriend. The past few years together had been whatever your guys’ version of domestic bliss was. Mostly a lot of playful teasing and sometimes borderline bullying. A lot of flirting, too. Your family and friends often called the two of you childish, but that was just your dynamic, and you loved every second of it.

Recently, though, you’d been a little disappointed. Not with Ao’nung’s treatment of you, definitely not, but with how busy he’d been with his duties. You knew it wasn’t his fault, he was the son of the Olo’eyktan, after all. It was just that between going out hunting, Olo’eyktan training, and working on completing his warrior rites, you felt as if he was becoming a stranger that you were watching from afar. You couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you had been alone.

“Hey, I’m sorry that Ao’nung can’t come, [Y/N].” Neteyam said as he packed the last of his things and strapped them to his ikran, shooting you a sympathetic look. You sighed to yourself, trying not to let your disappointment show.

“It’s no big deal,” You shrugged. “It’s not like we’re leaving forever.” It was true that you wouldn’t be gone as long as usual this time, but it was certainly long enough. Not only would you be away from Ao’nung, but you would miss the completion of his Iknimaya. He was supposed to finish up next week, which was the only reason he wouldn’t be able to come with you like you had originally planned months ago. Actually, you'd been begging him to go along with you for a while, but it had never worked out with his schedule. This time seemed to cut the deepest, though.

“You keep saying it’s not a big deal, but I don’t think you mean that,” Neteyam pushed, coming over to stand next to you. His presence was a comfort, especially because he had inadvertently become the person you always went to for relationship advice. “It’s okay not to be okay, you know.”

“Yeah, I- I know…” You trailed off, unconvincing. “I just wanted to be there when he finished his Iknimaya. He’s worked so hard, Teyam.” You bit your lip, staring hard at the ground. “And-” You cut yourself off, suddenly feeling embarrassed at your own thoughts.

“And?” Neteyam’s tone was gentle, encouraging. You sighed.

“And I just keep worrying that he’s going to get tired of me being gone all the time. Once he’s officially a warrior he gets to choose a mate. I know it’s really horrible of me to think it, but, what if he doesn’t choose me?” You involuntarily imagined coming back from the forest to find him mated to another, your heart rising to your throat.

“I hear what you’re saying, but I have to tell you that’s impossible, [Y/N]. If you could see the way Ao’nung looks at you, you would know.” Neteyam grinned as you flushed, fighting a smile of your own. Before you could say anything in response, your dad declared it was time to leave. Your heart sank back down, and you turned to mount your ikran.

“Wait! Wait up! You’re going to forget your favourite, most handsome possession!” The deep voice sent a familiar shiver of longing down your spine, though his words made you roll your eyes. There was only one man in the world who could do that to you with just a sentence.

You whipped around, wide-eyed as your big dork of a boyfriend sprinted over to your family.

“Miss me, forest girl?” He was grinning like an absolute fool as he finally came to a stop a few feet away from you, panting slightly. You were quick to hide your extreme joy with a glare, lest you show just how much power he held over your emotions.

“Aren’t you supposed to be taming a skimwing right now?” You raised an eyebrow. “You know, so you can prove that you’re a man or something?” You held back a smirk as he narrowed his eyes.

“Alright, then. If you didn’t want me to come you should have just said so.” He said, nonchalantly shrugging as he turned to go back. You knew he was goading you, but you couldn’t help it as you jumped forward, catching his wrist.

“No! Don’t.”

“Oh, so you do want me to come?” He simpered, eyes dancing with mirth. If you weren’t in front of your family you probably would have jumped his bones right there. Something about that perpetual conceited attitude did things to you.

“Can you not be a dickhead for like, one second?” You asked, eliciting a chuckle from him. That was when you noticed the tattoo.

The sweeping intricate black lines spanned a good portion of the left side of his rib cage, swooping slightly up and around the curve of his back. It was gorgeous, but the ink looked incredibly fresh, the edges of the elegant piece slightly raised. You gaped, your fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and touch it.

“What is that?” You breathed, flicking your gaze up to meet your favourite ocean blues.

“I’m surprised you don’t know what a tattoo is considering you’ve lived here for-” You glared daggers as he spoke, indicating that now was not the time for witty banter. He cracked a wide grin, holding his hands up in surrender. “Alright, geez. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Okay but-” Suddenly everything fell into place in your mind and you gasped, your eyes growing wide. “You finished your Iknimaya?”

He nodded. “Just call me the greatest warrior who’s ever lived- woah!” He laughed deeply as you barreled into him, wrapping your arms around his neck before he lifted you off the ground and spun you around.

“Ao’nung the mighty warrior.” You could barely contain your smile as you peppered a few kisses along his cheeks. “I am so proud of you!”

It wasn’t like either of you to show such blatant affection in front of others, especially your parents, but it seemed impossible not to in this moment.

“That’s why I’ve been so busy lately,” He admitted, pulling back and setting you down in front of him, maintaining a loose grip on your waist. “I had to beg my father to let me work overtime, and it was a pretty tight schedule. I technically finished yesterday, but I woke up before dawn this morning to get my tattoo done.” You could have sworn the only other time Ao’nung had smiled this big was after your very first kiss.

“Oh, Nung, I’m so happy for you! Thank you!” You leaned in to kiss him, but you were rudely interrupted by your youngest brother, who was standing a few feet away with your family.

“Oh, Ao’nung! I’m so proud of you, mighty warrior! Let’s kiss in front of everyone and waste a whole bunch of time being gross!” He mocked in a high-pitched voice, rolling his eyes. Lo’ak may have gotten older, but he still loved to make fun of you two. “I hate to break up your guys’ little love fest, but we were supposed to leave like, ten minutes ago.” He huffed. Tsireya may not have been around to chastise him, but your mother certainly was. She smacked the back of his head, glaring at the boy.

“Lo’ak! You should be happy for Ao’nung! He is a warrior of the clan now.” Neytiri turned to look at Ao’nung, smiling proudly. Ever since your parents had found out about you and him, your mother was very supportive. She’d grown to love him like a son. Your father, however, was not so fond. You and him had been through many arguments in which he claimed you needed to wait until you were old enough for a mate in order to be with Ao’nung. Even now, when this had suddenly become possible, Jake looked a little disapproving.

“My love, Lo’ak is right. We really do have to get going.” You frowned at your father’s lack of enthusiasm, but nothing could truly drag your mood down for long as you thought about finally getting to show Ao’nung your precious forest. Even the days-long ikran flight didn’t seem all that bad anymore.

After you and Ao’nung clambered onto your ikran together and took off, you sighed contentedly, leaning back into him when you had a chance to relax a bit. You could feel the low tenor of his voice through his chest as he spoke, his hands placed on your thighs as he rubbed slow circles along them with his thumbs.

“I can’t wait to see this great forest you’ve been raving about for years.” You grinned at his words, biting your lip as you fantasized about showing him every inch of your former home.

“I can’t wait to see what my grandmother thinks of you.” You snorted. The image of her scrutinizing gaze making the usually overconfident Ao’nung sweat had you giggling.

“She’ll love me. All the ladies do.” You could hear the smirk in his words.

“I hated your guts when we met.” You reminded him, hoping to humble him even just slightly. It was a futile attempt.

“And now?”

“Maybe I still do.”

“Is that so?” He bent his head down to whisper into your ear. “It’s interesting that you hate my guts but yet you love when I rearrange y-”

“If you finish that sentence I will push you off this ikran so fast, Ao’nung.” You warned, a nervous laugh threatening to escape your chest.

“You’d miss me if you did that.”

“Unlikely.”

“Oh, you'd definitely miss me."

“So what is this boy’s name, again?” Your grandmother questioned as you helped her prepare food for dinner. You couldn’t help but smile as she squinted her eyes in the direction of where your brothers and Ao’nung were talking around the fire a little ways off. You all had arrived at the forest late, so everyone was just resting for the remainder of the night. Exploring would have to wait until tomorrow.

“His name is Ao’nung, grandmother.”

“Hm. Well, he could do with an attitude adjustment. But he looks to be a strong warrior, no doubt.” She pursed her lips, still appearing to scrutinize him.

“Yes. He actually just completed his Iknimaya,” You tried your best not to sound like you were gushing over him. “He is very strong, indeed.” The image of his toned arms flashed through your mind. The way he could lift you over his shoulder and carry you. The way his muscles tensed when he gripped your hips as he kissed you. You couldn’t help but flush, shaking your head slightly to clear it. Your grandmother was staring at you, the smallest of grins tugging at the corners of her lips.

“So you are mated, then?” She questioned, and you almost choked on air. You supposed you should have expected the question sooner or later, but it still surprised you. Your heart sped up at the thought.

“Oh- well… no.” You mentally cursed yourself for stuttering.

“You sound unsure, child. Do you not want to be his mate?”

“I- It’s- Yes. Yes of course I do,” Your gaze drifted over to him, watching fondly as he laughed at something Lo’ak had said. Despite the obvious stupidity of it, you still couldn’t shake the thought of him possibly choosing someone else to be his mate. It was like some deeply hidden fear you didn’t know you had until now. “It is just a matter of whether or not he wants to be my mate too.” You finished your thought quietly, looking down at your hands in your lap.

“I would think that would be the least of your worries, my dear.” Your grandmother spoke softly, placing a gentle hand on your knee. “He may be a mighty warrior, but even I can see his weakness is you. His eyes betray him every time he looks at you.” This was the second time recently someone had told you such a thing. It made you slightly dizzy with childish giddiness, the idea of you having such an affect on the aloof and confident male.

You were unsure how to respond, but you smiled widely to yourself, a little embarrassed. Your grandmother just chuckled and turned to call everyone over to eat.

The food was almost painfully good after eating pre-prepared meals over the course of your trip. Even Tuk, normally the pickiest eater ever, was scarfing every last bit down. It also felt great to eat together with your family, just enjoying their company as you leaned into Ao’nung’s side, his free arm wrapped around your shoulders. It didn’t take too long for everyone to finish and start turning in for the night.

Your family all slept in a group of hammocks nearby one another, but Ao’nung had been given a spare hammock a little ways away in order to give him more “privacy”, as your dad said, but you figured that he just didn’t want the two of you sleeping near each other. He was very protective and hypocritical considering everything he got up to with your mother when they were young. He was also naive if he thought that sending Ao’nung off by himself was going to keep you two apart.

Once everyone seemed soundly asleep, you silently slipped out of your hammock and crept away to find Ao’nung. It wasn’t too difficult as he appeared to be struggling to lie down comfortably in his hammock. You giggled quietly, sneaking up beside the warrior.

“Do you know how stupid you look right now?” You whispered, quickly slapping your hand over Ao’nung’s mouth as he yelped. You could barely hold in your laughter. “Shut up, skxawng! You’ll wake the whole clan!”

“Very funny, you little brat.” Ao’nung’s expression was sour, especially as he continued to struggle slightly with his hammock.

“You know, I’m very good at helping people who ask.” You smirked, folding your arms across your chest as you watched him try to stop swinging from side to side.

“Fine.” He huffed, glaring up at you.

“Fine what?”

“Seriously?” Ao’nung shot you an annoyed look, but you just stood there, enjoying the power you held in this situation. When you didn’t respond, he finally huffed, resigning himself to what he knew you wanted.

“Would you please do me the favour of helping me figure this stupid thing out, your all-knowing royal highness?” The last bit was a snarky joke, one meant to annoy you, but it only made you grin.

“Why didn’t you ask sooner, Nung?” You made your way over and steadied the hammock, fingertips pushing lightly on Ao’nung’s bicep to indicate that he should move over. When he shifted, you took the chance to climb in beside him, a look of pleasant surprise overtaking his features. The hammock stilled once the two of you had found a comfortable position facing each other, close enough to breathe the same air.

“So this is what you came here for?” Ao’nung questioned, his eyebrows raising as his signature cocky smirk settled onto his lips.

“It’s like you want me to punch you.” You scoffed, tracing the familiar patterns of his skin with your finger, particularly the glowing constellation of freckles that spanned his broad chest. He shivered beneath your touch. However, when you accidentally grazed over the edges of his new tattoo, he hissed. You quickly pulled back, cringing.

“Sorry!” You apologized hurriedly, worried that you had hurt him.

“No, it’s alright. It’s just still a little sore.” He admitted, offering you a gentle smile. You returned it, but did not place your hands back where they were.

“So, you can choose a mate now.” You finally said after a few moments of silence, peering through your lashes to try and gauge his expression. This was a conversation you had been dying to have for days, but it hadn’t seemed like the right time until now. Even so, your heart began to race slightly.

“Yes.” Ao’nung’s tone was low, serious. Maybe it was because of your nerves, but you found it difficult to read his expression.

“And?” You bit your lip, waiting impatiently for him to say anything. Your irrational fears were screaming in the back of your mind.

“And?” He quirked an eyebrow. “What do you want me to say?” You heart plummeted into your abdomen, unable to stop yourself from frowning deeply as you flicked your gaze down so you could avoid eye-contact. You swallowed thickly as your throat constricted. You felt like such a baby for reacting this way, but it was like you couldn’t stop it. The next words coming out felt like someone had stuck a branding iron down your throat.

“Do you want to mate with someone else?”

“What?” Ao’nung sat up slightly in shock, confusion and worry written all over his face. “What are you taking about?”

You just shrugged, afraid you would truly start crying if you spoke or even looked up from your fidgeting fingers.

“[Y/N].” His tone was firm but soft, a plead for you to explain. You felt ridiculously stupid.

“There’s lots of beautiful women of the clan. Many who would make a great Tsahìk some day,” You managed quietly, letting out a short breath. “I don’t want to hold you back just because we have been together so long. Besides, I know what your mother thinks of me, and maybe she is right. I still act like a child sometimes. I am gone so much visiting home. And I am not-” Your voice broke, a few warm tears finally spilling over onto your cheeks. “I am not Metkayina. I am not like you.”

It was painfully silent for a few torturously long seconds. Finally, you felt Ao’nung’s fingers tilt your chin up so he could look at you. His gaze was giving you the all-too-familiar impression that he was seeing you intimately, seeing beyond just your face.

“I do not want anyone else.” He breathed, moving to cradle your face in his hands, brushing away your tears with his thumbs. “I have the most beautiful woman here in front of me. And for some reason, Eywa forbid, I think she likes me.” He grinned and you felt your heart lift.

“You might be right about that.” You said quietly, earning a low chuckle from him.

“[Y/N], I need you to know that I do not care if my mother doesn’t approve of you. The other women of the clan do not tease me. They do not make ridiculously funny faces when they’re annoyed. They do not have the courage to stand up to me and call me a jerkwad when I’m being mean.” The two of you laughed faintly at the memory of you calling him every English insult you could think of. “I love you because you do all of those things. And I love you because you are just as much Metkayina as anyone else in the clan, even though you did not grow up knowing our ways. You were not born into your place there, you earned it, and I can only hope I’ve earned even a slight chance at being worthy enough to be your mate.” You were staring hard at each other now, barely breathing as you hung on to every single word he said. You slid your hands behind his neck, tugging him closer to you, your lips ghosting over his.

“Whether I like it or not, you own my heart, Ao’nung.”

His lips crashed to meet yours with an intensity that set your heart racing. The kiss was all heat and desperation, tongues and teeth. Ao’nung bit your bottom lip, smirking when you gasped. His fingers then found your waist and he smoothly flipped your positions so that he was over top of you, groaning as you placed kisses along his neck and jaw.

“I can’t believe you were worried about me not wanting to be your mate when I’m so fucking in love with you.” He said between sloppy kisses, his hands sliding slowly up and down your thighs, positioned on either side of his body. You shuddered at the way it made your stomach tighten. “As if I would let anyone else hold my heart in their hand.” You whined as he fingered the waistband of your clothing, sucking on a sweet spot just beneath your ear.

“I can think of something else of yours that I would love to hold right about now.” Your eyes glinted as you gazed at him, a quick flash of surprise passing over his face before he broke into a smirk.

“Be my guest, love.”

The mid-afternoon sun shone brightly as you excitedly made your way up the hallelujah mountains. You and Ao’nung had spent the morning around the forest with your family, but you’d really wanted to show him some of your favourite spots by yourself, one of which you were heading to now.

"Hurry up, slow poke!" You found yourself calling out, a laugh bubbling from your chest when Ao’nung groaned behind you. You turned your head back to grin tauntingly at him.

"When you said you were going to show me your home, this is not what I pictured us doing." Ao'nung frowned, glancing warily over the side of the vine you both walked upon.

"No? What exactly were you picturing, then, Nung?" You queried and Ao'nung's lips split into what you could only describe as a suggestive grin.

"Oh, you know, maybe a little less dangerous hiking and a little more finding a secluded spot to-"

"Oh my Eywa!" You yelped, shaking your head. "Just keep walking, you sick bastard."

"Just putting ideas out there.." He chuckled, suddenly pushing forward to catch up to you. He slung his arm around your waist, pulling you into him like it was the most natural action in the world.

You leaned in closer, standing on your tiptoes to whisper into his ear. "You're so desperate, Ao'nung." He shivered.

"Only for you, forest girl." As the words left his lips, you suddenly felt as if you’d experienced this moment before, down to the exact details. You furrowed your brows, trying hard to remember why it felt so familiar.

“Oh!” You gasped out loud, nearly sending your boyfriend toppling over the side of the vine as your memory came into focus. On instinct, you reached out quickly to steady a confused looking Ao’nung.

“Are you trying to kill me, woman?” He asked incredulously, placing a hand over his heart. “What was that?”

You flushed, unsure of what to say. It was such a strange experience to have to explain.

“Um, it’s nothing.” You laughed breathily, trying to sound as casual as possible before continuing your trek up the mountains. Unfortunately, that was not satisfactory enough for him. He grabbed at your waist, pulling you back into him so you were both were facing forward, your back flush against his chest.

“Tell me.” He whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps along your skin.

“It’s weird.” You chuckled, turning your head so you could meet his eyes. They were alight with interest.

“Like you don’t already say weird things all the time?” He asked, laughing as he earned a gentle punch to the bicep. You turned fully to face him.

“Do you remember the first night we went to the cove of ancestors? The night Kiri had a seizure?” You questioned, playing with your fingers as they rested on his chest, feeling his slow breaths beneath your touch.

“Of course.” He furrowed his brows slightly, as if playing through the memory in his head. “The first time you let your guard down around me.” His lips split into a small smirk, though it was more fond than cocky.

“Yeah, whatever,” You smiled softly. “Well, before all that crazy stuff happened, I had a vision when I connected to the tree. It was- well… it was this.” You bit your lip, spreading out your hands to indicate the scene around you.

“The mountains?” He questioned, not entirely following.

“Yes. But us, too. The exact conversation we just had a few minutes ago. It felt so familiar while it was happening, but I couldn’t remember why until now.” You felt awkward explaining it to him, avoiding eye contact and instead trying to read the rest of his face.

“So you knew this was going to happen?” It was a loaded question, indicating both the general situation and your relationship as a whole. A smirk was tugging at his lips.

“Kind of…” You said slowly. “But at the time I still thought I maybe hated you, so it freaked me out. I didn’t know if it was actually going to come true or not. I was working up the courage to talk to you about it before everything went to shit.” You laughed a little, thinking back on all the chaos of those first few months living on the island.

“I want you to be my mate.” Ao’nung said suddenly, staring down at you with a rare completely serious expression. You snapped your head up quickly, confused at the sudden turn in conversation, though a flutter of excitement settled in your stomach.

“I know,” You smiled softly. “I can’t wait until we get back home-”

“No, now.” His voice was firm, his mind already made up. Your eyebrows shot skyward. “I don’t want to waste anymore time not being officially bonded. We can go tonight,. I think Eywa has given us a sign through your dream.” He grabbed your hand, gently lacing his fingers with yours.

“But- what about our parents?” You asked, trying to ignore the rising giddiness inside of you. “I mean my dad will probably burst a blood vessel in his eye. And don’t even get me started on your mom… She already has enough reason to hate me.”

“It’s not about them, my love.”

“But you are the chief’s son, Nung. There are rituals and ceremonies for you and your chosen mate-”

“Me and you.”

“Yes,” You breath hitched slightly, blushing. “Us. Your parents won’t be pleased if you do not complete them in the traditional way.” You were speaking to deaf ears, reiterating things he already knew well.

“We’ll have our own stupid rituals.” He muttered, his fingers skating along your arm, bringing them up to trace the outline of your jaw. “Ceremonies and parties and disapproving parents can wait until we return.” He searched your eyes, desperately hoping for you to be feeling the same immediacy as him. The same all-consuming desire to be one after waiting so long. Despite your feeble rationale behind why it was a terrible idea, you had to admit that you wanted to do it just as badly.

“Tonight, then.” You finally caved, an excited buzz settling under your skin. Ao’nung grinned, picking you up to swing you around before pulling you into a hug. You could feel his excitement in the air around you, making you bite your lip to keep from smiling too wide.

You woke to the sun already shining brightly, pleasantly warming your skin. A pair of strong arms were wrapped around your abdomen, your legs tangled together with two other, longer and broader ones. It could have been any other morning after sneaking out to be with Ao’nung.

It was not.

You could feel the mating bond even now as your mate lay sleeping beneath you, his soft breaths tickling your skin. Nothing about your feelings for the warrior boy had changed, you still felt the deep love that had claimed a stake on your heart years ago, but it was like it had been fortified, made immortal under the gaze of Eywa. Your soul was tied completely to his, two halves to make a entirely new whole. His eyes fluttered open as you stared at his sleeping form, admiring his peacefulness. He smiled sleepily.

“Good morning, my love.” His voice was slightly raspy from sleep, and you felt your stomach tighten, suddenly replaying every euphoric detail about the night before. You clenched your legs together, letting Ao’nung sit up and pull you into his lap while running a hand slowly up your thigh. Once you were comfortably sitting on top of him, he began to place sweet kisses along your neck.

“Ao’nung.” You tried (failed) to sound stern, placing a hand on each of his biceps in a weak attempt to stop him from caressing all along your body. “We have to go back.” Your words got lost in a moan as he nipped at your collarbone, looking up at you in a desperate sort of way. You shuddered, unable to stop yourself from dipping your head down to place a kiss on his pouted lips. He kissed back fervently, one of his hands sliding to the back of your head while the other danced along your ribcage, dangerously close to eliciting another moan from you. If you didn’t stop now, you knew you never would.

“Alright, alright. Don’t make me smack you, dipshit.” He groaned in annoyance as you pulled away, your lips already slightly swollen from the kiss.

“C’mon, [Y/N].” He whined, his ears flicking back in disappointment. “You're my mate, now. Can we not just enjoy this time?”

You chuckled, tracing your thumb over his bottom lip. “I’m sure you got more than enough enjoyment last night. Now it’s time to for us to deal with the repercussions of that.” You quickly placed one more soft kiss on his lips before sighing and untangling your limbs from his. He unhappily followed your lead, holding your hand to help you up. As the two of you slowly began your walk back home, you smiled to yourself, feeling more content than you ever had before. Even the thought of confronting both your parents seemed but a small inconvenience, an easy price to pay for the sheer elation you felt at the bond you now shared with Ao’nung.

“I still think we could have stayed longer.” He frowned, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth slightly.

“Doubtful. It’s pretty much a miracle they haven’t sent out a search party already.” You laughed, guessing it was already mid-morning. Your family had probably been awake for hours.

“What should I say to your parents?” Ao’nung questioned.

“Well, you should probably start by begging my dad for mercy,” You deadpanned. “Though I doubt that will help.”

“Thanks, I’m so glad you’re confident in me.” Ao’nung quipped back sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I’d like to remind you that I’m a warrior now.”

You grinned. “You’re about to be a dead warrior.”

“Well, at least my last great memory is of you on your knees last night-"

You cut him off with a light punch in the gut. It was like hitting the bark of a tree, but he did you the courtesy of pretending to feel it, at least.

“Geez, someone’s touchy about that.” He smirked, amusement flickering in his gaze.

“Just save the cockiness until after we talk to my parents. I know you probably don’t know to be humble, but-”

“Oh, I’ll be humble. I’ll be even more humble than Neteyam when he gets a compliment.” He spoke of it like a challenge, and you giggled.

“Speaking of that, I forgot to mention that my brothers are probably going to kill you, too, you know. Then maybe even Kiri. You’ll be dead four times over.”

“You’re lucky you’re worth all this murder I’m about to experience.”

“Just remember that this was your idea, genius.”

“Yeah, yeah. But who’s the one who loves me too much to have said no?”

“Shut up.”

“Fine. But only if you give me a good luck kiss before we get back because I’m starting to get nervous now.”

taglist:

@luvlykrispy @foreverfolkloregirly @findingourtreasure @tiddybiddy @nao-cchi @goodiesinthecloset21 @elegantkidfansoul @azaleaniath @cloakedvengeance @philiasoul @aonungmybf @joshuahongsfuturewife @shartnart1 @ayanamire @tireytesulineytiriite @bigmama123 @fucksnow @seashelldom @melsunshine @littlethingsinlife @thesheelfsworld @in-luvais @perseny @minkyungseokie @acrobatcheeks @theblaxkbird @sakura-onesan @1-800-not-simping @srrybroo @ellasully @trulynotavailable @dreamergirljen @ipoopedmypants47 @hangezoes-wife @scarletrosesposts @kaealowri @eggnox @spiceyhotsherbet @awkward-halfhug

#ao'nung #ao'nung fanfiction #ao'nung fluff #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x y/n #ao'nung x you #aonung #aonung fanfiction #aonung fluff #aonung x reader #aonung x y/n #aonung x you #atwow #atwow ao'nung #avatar #the way of water #avatar the way of water

[apompkwrites]

👁👁 requests are open, can I request some fluff with Leona featuring cheka to save me after binging all the black sheep fics

mhm mhm of course! this time its gonna be in the black sheep universe!! so expect lil kingscholar except nothing bad happened :D so not canon in the actual fic but it'll be the same character <3

takes place where lil kingscholar goes to nrc but they stayed at home bc the elders weren't bad people :D

unca/aunnie is used like once to describe (name) by cheka :D

"unca leona! unca/aunnie (name)!" a familiar high-pitched voice squealed your names, prompting leona to groan under his breath.

"damn it..."

"wah! cheka!" contrary to leona's resignation, you were ecstatic to see the little redhead bounding through the halls. you scooped him up into your arms, pressing your cheek against his. "you've gotten so big since we last saw you!"

"you ran away from your attendants again, didn't you?" leona grumbled, looking around to try and spot the familiar red hair of your brother. "falena's not even here."

"papa's busy right now but i wanted to see you!" cheka explained, a bright grin on his face. he wrapped his arms around your neck, his legs swinging as much as they could in your hold.

"oh! then, let's go," you snickered, whisking cheka away to one of your favorite spots. critters and insects crawled all over the floor in the shadows, prompting cheka to squeal at the sight of them. you pressed your finger to your lips and plucked a beetle off of the ground, dangling it in front of cheka by its head. "your papa won't know what hit 'im!"

"oi, this again?" leona huffed from behind you. when you turned to face him, you laughed as you held up the bug.

"c'mon! it'll be just like old times, right?" you pointed out, earning a sigh from your older brother.

"you're on your own when falena hunts you down," he shrugs, already making his way back home. you pouted but opted to hand the beetle over to cheka, who struggled to have a proper grip on it for a few minutes.

"here, hold it like this," you moved the beetle to the center of his palm and placed his other hand alongside it. the beetle scurried into the middle of his hands and seemed to nestle where it stood. "now quiet! we gotta catch your papa off guard!"

"okay! i'll be quiet!"

needless to say, the moment cheka dropped the beetle in his father's hair, you ran down the halls, screaming and laughing at the top of your lungs.

leona, despite using a pillow to cover his ears, relished in the idea that this very moment felt like the good old days when there was no talk of inheriting the throne.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland fluff #twst fluff #twisted wonderland leona #twisted wonderland leona x reader #twst leona #twst leona x reader #leona x reader #twisted wonderland leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona kingscholar #twst leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #black sheep