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This is so heartbreaking omg! amazing chapter Leah, absolutely in my feels right now. Poor Reader....

I know Matt will be there when she wakes up but I'm still so sad 😢

The Sun Will Rise

Wake Up, Chapter 8

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In an attempt to stop the advances of an unwanted suitor, Matt Murdock accidentally condemns you to being his fake girlfriend.

warnings: sexual assault themes and descriptions, if non-con themes trigger you please do not read. other warnings: swearing, misogynistic language, violence

This chapter is very intense. I tried to keep the S/A stuff as not graphic as possible to avoid triggering people but it is very much there and the violence is more present than any other chapter.

a/n: Today has been a fucking DAY yall. My new cat got sick (he’s ok he just ate too fast and then got sick on me and my bed which was gross), I am having issues with pay equity at work, and trying to deal with utility issues in my house. I am very sorry for the late update. PLEASE let me know how you feel about this chapter, your comments and reblogs literally make my day every week. 

w/c: ~4.5k

Four years ago, you’d been desperate for a change.  Despite spending thousands on a fancy degree, you had gotten nowhere in the legal field and your job waiting tables at a diner in Queens barely paid the bills, though you were grateful for the work. 

Pouring coffee and taking orders wasn’t the worst job you’d ever had and the majority of customers during your shifts were sweet. You played the role of “cute, friendly waitress” well, making even the grouchiest patrons appreciate your soft smile and quick response time. Maybe this persona you’d adopted in your efforts to avoid your crippling anxiety was the reason he started looking your way. Perhaps it was your obvious desperation to be liked. Whatever it was that drew his attention, it was your eventual disinterest that kept it. 

The first day you met James Lannister was a shitty one. You’d worked a double shift, meaning you had been less than perky towards the end of it, leading to stupid mistakes and screaming customers. Emotions were running high when he took a seat in your section, so his calm demeanor and attentive smile drew you in. 

He’d only made pleasant conversation with you the first few visits. Asking about your day, your week, your hobbies, your interests, your family, your aspirations. Anyone would’ve been eager to spill their guts to him, he was quite charming. The way that his green eyes pooled with fascination as you spoke was almost reverent. No man in your life had ever made you feel that way, like nothing else in the room mattered. 

Which is why the red flags zipped right by you without triggering your internal security system. Day after day, he’d visit your place of work after his own shift at the Pro Bono Association. He’d ask his questions and encourage you to ask your own, which led to a standing invitation to sit with him when there was a lull in traffic at the restaurant. Your shared interest in the legal system and his willingness to share a slice of that life with you compelled you to take him up on the offer. 

Next came the gifts. Little things, at first. Large tips, suggestions for weekend entertainment complete with a gift card or fully funded ticket, books to further your legal studies after work. It was strange, but the attention was divine. He wasn’t an ugly man, and you’d never felt noticed like this before. 

Eventually, he’d goaded you into joining him and his wife for dinner at their house. Mrs. Lannister was beautiful and cunning. On the surface, she was always polite, reassuring, more than willing to host you or have you join them in public, but there was an ominous undercurrent that you never could place. The way she looked at you when her husband turned his back was almost murderous, but you were so caught up in the idea of being wanted that you glossed over the tension between the two of you. 

You were lonely, sure, but you never wanted romance or…other things…from Lannister. To you, he was a mentor, an idol. Someone to live vicariously through while in a transition period in life. But after accepting all of his kindnesses, you’d unknowingly crossed a line. 

Before it all fell apart, it almost seemed like universal intervention. During a seemingly mundane conversation, Lannister clasped his hands over yours with a giddy expression. It seemed that there was an entry level position opening up at the PBA office in Queens and he thought you’d be perfect for it. Not only would it be a substantial pay raise from your current position, but there were opportunities for growth and he would be your boss. 

At the time, it felt like a miracle. Your ticket to the next stage of your life. And it was, but letting your guard down for that shark ended up being the biggest regret of your life. 

Transitioning into your new role wasn’t seamless, but you took it in stride. Your eagerness to take on complex projects and expand the mission of the organization impressed the more seasoned employees. Lannister began taking you to lunches, galas, drinks, anywhere that he could introduce you to his network of attorneys. It was thrilling to be thrown into the world you’d always dreamed of and received with such open arms. 

For a few months, it was pure bliss. Until the night you placed your first case. 

Placing the case itself was unproblematic, you were happy that you fit into the role so well—and you expressed such sentiments to Lannister who invited you over to his house to celebrate. Arriving with a bottle of your favorite wine, it was immediately clear that something had changed. The once cozy house was in absolute disarray, riddled with empty liquor bottles and boxes of feminine clothes. And, although Lannister had implied there would be others there, you found him alone. 

Lannister noticed your wandering eyes and explained that his wife had left him. He told you not to worry about that and to focus on your personal success. The two of you enjoyed some good food and cheap wine, the older man drifting closer by the glass. Eventually, you felt your eyes growing heavy and he insisted that you stay over given the late hour. 

That night, you dreamt of a large shadow, looking over you while you slept, warm touch dancing over your clothes. You tried to protect yourself, but your arms wouldn’t respond to the commands your brain sent. When you woke up, you found your skirt unzipped. 

It got blurry after that. Lannister’s very public divorce led to inopportune inebriation, massive hangovers in the office, lewd comments, and wandering hands. While you still accompanied him to events, he began claiming you in public in increasingly repulsive ways. Holding you by the waist, kissing your cheeks, stroking his fingers over your neck, using that disgusting pet name. My little Princess. 

You only tried expressing your discomfort once before it escalated. You’d approached him in his office after lunch, when he was likely to be more sober, and hesitantly asked if he would consider pulling back. You’d been met with the most terrifying display of anger you’d ever seen. You hazily recall books being thrown, hits landing along your arms and torso, insults being hurled at you. 

He had made you. You would be nothing without him. You were ungrateful and whoreish and conniving just like his wife. While the memories faded, the scars from your skin splitting over the hinges of his office door still shone in certain lights. 

After that his actions were deliberate. His lingering touches scalded you. Being alone with him meant sentencing yourself to torture. When he was angry, he’d call you into his office to “talk it through.” To your absolute horror, these talks often involved a locked door and drunk hands groping your trembling form. 

For weeks you endured his abrupt switches between calculated insults, physical abuse, emotional manipulation, and inappropriate contact. You were barely alive, going through the motions and slowly convincing yourself that you deserved it. You’d fallen out of contact with your friends, were so emotionally fragile that a stern look from a stranger could send you into a panic attack, and you found yourself so nauseous that the first few hours of each day were spent hugging a toilet. 

It was clear you needed help, but Lannister was your boss and his threats terrified you. He’d made it clear that if anyone found out about his behavior, it would cost you your livelihood. As an incredibly well-known attorney with an impeccable record, there was no way you’d win in court, he had too many friends on the force or the bench. Not to mention how new you were to the organization. Despite his growing alcoholism, your coworkers were as enamored with Lannister as you used to be, the chances of them believing you were minimal. 

So, you stayed, trapped in a nightmare of your own unintentional creation. Until a position opened up in Manhattan. 

Applying on a whim, you’d kept your application a secret, not expecting to even get an interview. But, apparently the managing attorney across the East River had heard your name through the grapevine because she reached out within the week to schedule a lunch with you. 

The heavy weight that hung over your shoulders like a shadow has lessened considerably in the days leading up to the lunch. The possibility of escaping the hell you were living in quickly appeared like the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Manhattan was beautiful and the employees of the PBA office in Midtown were ecstatic to meet you. It was the best day you’d had in months, until you got back to your own office. 

Realizing you’d forgotten an important file you needed for a clinic the next day, you walked briskly through the quiet building, hoping to get in and out without running into your supervisor. Unfortunately, the world was not that gracious. 

As you rummaged through your desk, the overhead lights turned on making you flinch. Your hands stilled over the file cabinet, your breath catching on your throat. 

“You little bitch.” Lannister was furious if the rage dripping from his tone was any indication. “Tell me, Princess, why did I receive a call from Midtown about how happy they were to have finally met my assistant?”

You couldn’t speak, your throat constricting as if wrapped with fabric. Frozen in place, you heard him approaching and you cowered. 

“Thought you could go behind my back? Leave me high and dry without a warning? You owe me, little princess. After all I’ve done for you…”

Whether from fear or something else entirely, your brain blocked out the rest of his actions that night. You came to shaking on the floor, bloody and partially undressed, but you weren’t alone. Lannister had disappeared, thankfully, but your coworker stepped into your office with a shaky inhale. 

Erica was a young attorney who’d started a few weeks before you. Your emotional state had made it difficult to grow close to anyone in the office, but she’d always seemed sweet. And, fortunately for you in the end, she’d heard the commotion your boss had caused before storming home. 

As your wonderful coworker helped you clean yourself up, you tearily confessed the secrets you’d worked so hard to hide. Disgusted, Erica had encouraged you to speak to HR and you’d submitted a complaint later that day with her assistance. 

You owed Erica a great debt. Over the period of the investigation, she’d become a fixture in your office, making sure to keep you at a distance from your abuser. Without your prompting, she’d offered the committee looking into the allegations her full testimony. You were quite certain that her statement is the reason Lannister was fired. 

In the weeks following his termination, you felt like a new woman. You’d moved to a cute little place in Hell’s Kitchen and begun your new work as a volunteer coordinator. While you still struggled with crowds of lawyers and the taste of alcohol, a good therapist and a decent amount of time had helped you heal a considerable amount. 

Enough to open yourself up for the possibility of a relationship, which you weren’t sure you’d ever want after everything you’d been through. Meeting Matt had changed that though, turning ‘never’ into a ‘not right now’. 

Sweet, considerate, adorable Matt who had brought you more comfort than you ever thought you deserved. Who was probably still furious with you for falling for him, but you couldn’t help but plead with the universe to send him anyway. Please, Matty, please come for me. 

As the muggy van rumbled over potholes and uneven roads, you pictured his beautiful face. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. How his brow furrowed with concern over the most minor harm that had befallen you. The beautiful way his lips melded with yours as a single kiss made you feel weightless. You regretted not kissing him one last time before ruining what you had. 

I’m sorry, darling. Please don’t let them take me from you. I’m not ready to let you go just yet. 

As Matt neared the 4th floor, a knawing pit of dread grew in his stomach. He could smell your tears, newer than those that had fallen after he’d left, but your heartbeat was nowhere to be found. Frantically pacing the hallway, he quickly noticed your suitcase abandoned a few feet from the door to your shared room. Crouching down, he tilted his head, evaluating the scene. The scent of your fear coated the floor, walls, and fabric of your bag. You must have been terrified for it to penetrate your surroundings to that degree. Underneath your pheromones, Matt shuddered with rage as the sickly saccharine fragrance of Beatrice Snyder’s reached his sensitive nose. Mingling with her perfume was a different smell, smoky and dark. 

You’d been cornered by Snyder and an unidentified man, he was sure of it. Fumbling to find the right end of his key card, he threw open the door and stripped out of his suit. Given that he’d intended to share the night with you, he’d intentionally left his body armor at home. A black long sleeve tee and scarf around his face would have to do tonight. 

Stepping back into the empty hallway, he fled to the stairs. While the scent of your fear only fueled his dark anger, it was strong enough to leave a trail down the stairs and out the back door into the cool night air. As inconspicuously as possible, Matt navigated through the building, dodging employees and guests successfully until he reached the loading dock behind the kitchen. Your scent stopped here, replaced by the smell of gasoline. 

No, no, no. Where are you, angel? What happened to you? 

Matt growled in frustration, spinning around desperately searching for any sign of you, he ripped his phone out of his pocket and pressed your speed dial, hoping that you could still reach your phone. 

Receiving nothing but your voicemail message in return, he felt his fists clench. “It’s going to be ok, my beautiful girl. I’m coming.” 

Replacing the phone in his pocket, he took off in the direction of the strong scent of auto fuel, praying to God that the most recent vehicle would lead him to you. 

The van jolted to an abrupt stop and you slid along the dirty carpet into a seat in front of you. Your back ached from the jostling you’d gotten on the ride to whatever destination you’d apparently arrived at, and you could feel the imprint of thousands of plastic carpet strands that had melded with the flesh on your cheek during the drive. The sound of car doors slamming and the heavy footfalls following made you strain against your binds one final time. 

A large, rough hand snatched your ankle, yanking you towards the night air at the tail end of the vehicle. Kicking your legs wildly, you flopped like a dying fish along the carpet as you were slowly pulled outside. The fingers at your ankle moved to wrap around your throat, forcing the airway to constrict. Struggling fiercely against your captor, you heard a familiar, rasping voice from behind you snarl, “Shut her up, you idiot!” 

Lannister’s goon pressed a sharp implement against the soft flesh of your stomach. “Keep movin’ and you’ll lose a lot more than your man, bitch.” 

As your squirming died down, reality set in and tears began flooding down your face. It was over. He’d won. All of the efforts that went into putting distance between the two of you were meaningless. He’d found you, and Snyder was going to take Matt from you because of it. 

You were roughly stood on your feet and forced to move in the trail of Lannister and his other goon. Eventually, you were forced into a cold metal chair, binds attached to the stiff bars of the furniture. Your blindfold was ripped off, though your gag remained. James Lannister’s ferocious grin appeared in your line of vision, making you flinch. “So glad we’ve been reunited, Princess. We’re gonna have some fun.” 

The group had taken you to what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. There were broken wooden palettes and scraps of steel scattered around the floor. Holes in the sheet metal walls allowed cold, winter air to blow crisp waves of wind through the space, raising the hairs on your neck. A gaping hole in the roof above you showers you in moonlight, illuminating a small s circle around you and Lannister. 

A knife glinted in your peripheral vision and you whimpered, squirming involuntarily. Lannister grabbed a fistful of your shirt, yanking you forward with a growl. “The more you squirm, the more damage I do, little princess. I’d hold still if I were you.” 

With that warning, he slashed a jagged cut in your top, nicking the skin along your collarbone. A hand ran over your hair, grasping the strands and tugging so that your face was turned towards your captor’s once again. “There’s my obedient little pet. Was wondering where she’d gone.” 

Bile rose in your throat as Lannister stroked his massive hands along your face, planting heated, bourbon-soaked kisses along your neck and down your chest. Prying away your torn clothes, he turned to face the goons. “Is it ready?” 

“Yes, sir.” One deep voice responded from the shadows of the warehouse beyond your visible surroundings. “Before I have my fun,” Lannister stepped aside, revealing a tall dark shape topped with a blinking red light. “I’d like to record a confession, dear. For my sanity, and for the board to know the truth.” 

Raising his barely slurred voice, he turned to the camera. 

“State your name, for the record.”

“Please don’t do this. I don’t—“ Your pleading morphed into a screech of pain as the point of the blade ripped a gash in the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

“Wrong answer, pet.” Lannister took a swig from a practically empty bottle of liquor that had seemingly materialized out of thin air. A trail of blood wormed its way to the cement floor, pooling at your feet. You stared at the river of red liquid for a moment before stammering out your name. 

“That’s a good pet. What’s your relation to me, my dear?” Chucking the now empty bottle aside, it shattered at your feet, spraying you with cheap alcohol and pieces of glass. 

“I worked with you. In Queens.” A smaller knife plunged into the meat of your thigh and you screamed in agony. The larger of the two goons shuffled into your wavering vision, smiling as he wiped your blood from his hands. 

“More specific, Princess.” Lannister spat at you. 

“You were my boss.” 

“That’s right. Now tell us, how did you get me fired?” 

You sobbed, “I didn’t, I wasn’t—“ Grasping the knife still planted in your leg, Lannister twisted it, grabbing your throat. 

“Yes you did, you miserable bitch. You ruined my fucking life. I lost my divorce settlement, my job, my house, my reputation. All because I took an ungrateful slut under my wing.” Ripping the blade from your body, he hurled you to the ground. 

“TELL THE TRUTH!” Lannister roared, sending a brutal kick into your chest and knocking the air from your lungs. “Tell them that you seduced me for months and then used me to land a promotion. TELL THEM THAT YOU TOOK MY ENTIRE LIFE FROM ME AFTER I’D GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING!”

Stomping over your body again, he stumbled backwards allowing you to cough out a response. “I—I took everything f-from you. I was un-ungrateful.” 

Lannister cackled, pulling you from the ground by your uninjured arm. “Turn the camera off. They won’t want to see this next part.” 

The goons stepped forward to follow your former boss’s orders, but a piercing sound from outside halted them in their tracks. A horrific shriek, the sound of metal grinding on metal, echoed through the warehouse. All three men froze, looking to each other as if expecting to find the cause of the noise at the hands of their fellow assholes. Dropping you hard onto your shoulder, Lannister turned towards the source of the creaking and your head lolled after him.

As the door to the warehouse slammed open, you cried in relief as your weak gaze made out the black clad figure against the night sky. Daredevil. Your devil. He came for you. Tears poured down your cheeks and your limbs tensed, Matt’s presence drawing you in like a magnet. 

Lannister huffs out a laugh. “The fuck do you want, shadow man? Don’t you have robberies to stop?” At his sides, the other men shuffled nervously, knives gripped firmly as they awaited their next command. 

Matt stalked forward into the warehouse, his body stiff as it held his rage back, visible tension like that of water building against a dam. Fists clenched, he prowled an arc around your three kidnappers. “Step the fuck away from her.” His deep timbre was pitched exceedingly low with pure fury and it sent ripples of goosebumps across your bare skin. 

Drawing the handgun from the back pocket of his slacks, Lannister stepped towards you once more. “Do your worst, Devil. She’s not leaving here alive.” The world slowed, as if the air around you was suddenly thick as molasses. Your eyes were processing as much as they could as dread settled in your stomach. The barrel of the gun moved across Lannister’s body and pointed at you as his meaty thumb cocked the weapon. 

Simultaneously, Matt’s athletic form rocketed forward, skillfully dodging the swings from both of your unnamed assailants and leaping at Lannister. A gunshot rang and you traced the bullet as it soared towards you. Suddenly, your vision went white as pain seared through your body following the pointed metal cylinder as it tore through your abdomen. Screaming in anguish, your ears rang with a high pitched tone, the flash of white across your sight fading to black. The only thing you could focus on was the burning agony as the puddle of your blood seeped into your torn clothes. Forcefully shutting your eyes, your inhales turned shallow, and you prayed to your beloved Matthew that he would get you out of here before you took your last breath. 

Matt’s skin was alight with rage as he maniacally tore through the three brutes to reach your collapsed form. The head captor’s words barely registered in his ears over the deafening sound of a gun being pulled. No. Do not let it be her, take me. The safety was undone as Matt ripped one man’s shoulder from its socket, using the falter in his steps to knock him unconscious. He needed to be faster. He had to reach you. Planting a hefty kick into the next guy’s stomach, he brought his billy club up to meet the force of the man’s own body weight bringing him down. A hollow thud of a body on cement meant there was one attacker left. And then came the gunshot. 

As the bullet escaped the barrel it was encased in, Matt roared, the devil inside him fully consuming his consciousness as tackled the shooter. Knuckles connected with a jawbone, then the softer cartilage of a nose, then the lumpy space of a rib cage. Matt poured every emotion he had into this criminal, each punch holding seeds of guilt and regret and desperation. 

The smell of your blood cascading over the dirty floor broke him from his trance. Dropping the battered body of your captor to the floor, he dove beside you, hands hovering over your body as he assessed the damage. 

Sobbing in relief, he cupped your face as gently as he could. “It’s ok, angel. You’re gonna be ok. They’re not gonna hurt you anymore. Just breathe with me, please sweetness, breathe.” 

Your shallow pants stuttered as your hand weakly grasped his shirt. “Ma-Matty?” 

“Yah sweetness, it’s me. I’m right here. Gonna get you out of here, ok? Just hold on.” Ripped a strip of fabric from his shirt, he pressed it over your largest wound, biting back a pained sound of his own when you hissed. “I know, I know, angel. I have to stop the bleeding.” 

The soft smell of salt melded with the metallic odor of your blood. You were crying, holding on to the fistful of his shirt like it was a lifeline. “Y-you came for me? I’m—I’m so-sorry” 

Stroking your face lightly before he dialed 911, he cooed. “Of course I came, lovely. I’ll always come for you. Always. Now you just focus on breathing. In and out, sweetness. Good girl, just like that.” 

At the operator’s greeting, he spit out a rough command for police and an ambulance, giving a brief description of the events that had happened. Next, he pleaded for their help. There was no way he alone could get you to a hospital in time. 

“They were holding her hostage. She’s been shot, stabbed too. Lost a lot of blood. She’s still alive but she needs medical attention, please hurry.” He spit out the approximate location, scrubbing tears from his face as he pocketed his phone. 

Pressing his forehead to yours delicately, he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my sweet girl. It’s going to be ok. I’m so sorry.” Your hand raised shakily to cradle his nape. 

“Matty,” Your voice was weak, but determined. “I—I need you to know—“ 

“Hey, this isn’t one of those moments, sweet girl. You can tell me later, when you’re healing. You focus on—“ 

“No, please.” You begged, he fought back a choked cry so that you could say your piece. 

“I love you. S-so much.” You heaved a breath.  “I’m sorry that I ruined—“

“Shh, you didn’t ruin anything.” Matt chided gently, tears slipping faster after you'd confirmed his previous mistake. “I love you too, my wonderful, sweet girl. I won’t let them take you from me. I won’t.” 

“I’m sorry.” You choked out, and then you fell out of consciousness. 

Matt collapsed against your chest, clinging to the sound of your weak pulse as his body trembled with sobs. He planted soft kisses to your hair and cheeks, stroking lightly over your skin as he willed God to save you. 

The distant sound of sirens forced Matt to pry his face from your pummeled body. As the sound of vehicles approached, he made sure to alert the paramedics to your presence before taking back to the shadows. Hearing the clamor of attendants around you, he made a promise. “I’ll be there when you wake, angel. I’m sorry.”

Taglist: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @scoliobean @harperdoodle @mattkinsella @leikelle @sweetbee0108 @dark-night-sky-99 @fallen-angels2213 @will-delete-this-later-probably @cheshirecat484 @thornbushrose @vernon-dursley

This was a great chapter, my one comment is, let's see how far the couldn't die plays into this 🤔

The Woman Who Couldn’t Die Part 6

master list

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,

Pairing: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x Original Character 

Alternative Universe where I make things up cause I can only research so much

Synopsis: There is something in the woods, and our brave travelers are stuck between a rock and a hard place.

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning: This is based on fallout except typical: Drug use, blo0d/g0re, animal death, alien critters, angst, lots of hurt no comfort, Canon divergence, hints of SH/SA/NONCON, Slow Burn,

Note: that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

Enjoy the show kiddlets.

Night seems to come faster here, the tall imposing trees shrinking the daylight away. They had walked until Jade couldn’t see and almost fell again. The Ghoul had thankfully caught her before she had hit the ground, his lightning fast reflexes snatching her as she tripped over the uneven road. Carefully right her, and making sure he didn’t pull on the stitches Jade still had in her arm. 

“Careful there, ya got to tell me when yah can’t see,” The Ghoul said firmly. He had been weirdly quiet, usually there was a story or two they’d share between them. But today he had asked for silence, his head tipping this way and back listening to every small sound. Lucy had heard almost nothing, the silence was eerie. 

“I can’t see in the dark,” Jade said huffing, dropping her bag on the ground and stretching her back. She groans, the stitches in her back aching as she moves trying to pop bones back into place. The long walk always left her feeling stiff and tense, the added hush of the forest making her extra tense. 

“Exactly,” The Ghoul says, also dropping his saddle bag. “I can, so you gotta tell me when yah can’t see.” She wishes she could make out more than his shadowed outline, she was used to the dark, but this felt different. 

Jade flops herself down on the ground, digging around in her bag for water. “Guessing fire is out for the evening?” A fire here was a deathwish, she’d only be able to see just beyond its light, setting them up for an easy ambush.  

“Not sorry. Somethin’ is very off about this place,” The Ghoul states, she could hear him take a hit of the inhaler. Had he been taking it more often? She pushed the thought out of her mind, she needed food and maybe to try and sleep. The last thing she should be worrying about was if the Ghoul was going feral, they had a dozen plus vials on them. Right now making it to the next morning was more pressing. 

“I don’t like it,” Jade finally says, she didn’t, the whole place felt spooky. No noise. How was there no noise? “It’s too quiet, can hear you think.”

She could almost see the Ghoul’s eyes light up at her, “Don’t think you’d wanna know my thoughts now, Tiny.”

Jade huffs cracking open a can of food, she couldn’t tell what it was. Maybe she didn’t want to know, maybe she did. Jade knew somewhere down inside she wanted to know, to understand him more. Why? There wasn’t much of a reason besides connection. Something that was far too difficult to find in this husk of a world they lived in. Maybe she could pry something out of him tonight. She looks up at the stars, even though they weren’t enough to give light to this wretched place. “What if I did want to know?”

Silence for a moment, but then she hears him sit down, almost beside her. But always an arm's length away, why he couldn’t just sit beside her she didn’t know.  She remembers the heat of his hand wrapped around her body, how his hand had been inches from her face. Pushing that away she continues to eat the mystery meat in front of her. 

“I’ve been around for a long time. Too long if you ask anyone who knows me.” The Ghoul said out into the dark, his voice low enough that it didn’t echo. “Nothing good in between the holes I call ears.” 

Jade mulls that over, it was the most he had said all day. Hoping she could convince him to tell her more she asks, “How long?”

She could hear his boots slide on the dirt as he stretched out, “Long before you’re born, or your mother, or your mother’s mother.”

“You talkin' pre-bomb?” Jade pushed, she was walking a tight line here. He told stories, but never anything truely personal. Jade wanted more, she needed to understand what drove him to stay alive this long. 

“Depends on which bombs you are talking about.” He says she could tell that he had opened a can of something. At least he was eating, he hadn’t touched a thing all day besides the chems and a small amount of water. 

“I am talking about the bombs that end everything,” Jade states, she wasn’t terribly well versed in history, it wasn't like there was anyone teaching her. That said, she knew that there had been a single large event that had happened. That had flattened the entire country with nuclear bombs. This didn't cover the bombs that had been dropped between warring factions, or some such horseshit like that. 

“Yeah, a little older than those bombs,” He says it like a joke, like the fact he was over two hundred years old was nothing. How the hell had he stayed alive that long?

Jade finishes her can and drops it beside her with a clang. Every noise echoes around here, making her skin crawl like something was watching her. She rubs her hand nervously over the stitches that she could feel poking at her clothes. 

“Don’t think I’ve met anyone from before.” She adds, not entirely sure where to take the conversation. “I knew Ghouls could live for a long time. But I didn't think it was that long.”

The Ghoul huffs, dropping his own can beside them. “If you keep yourself fed, and watered pretty much immortal. Comes in handy I’uppose.”

“Have you thought about-” Jade stops herself, who was she to ask if he had thought about ending his life? She’d been here for a short time and the thought had crossed her mind more times than she could count on both hands. 

“Maybe one day,” The Ghoul hummed, she guessed he had laid down as his voice was lower to the ground. “For now, just gonna take it as it comes.”

***

The forest was eerily quiet, no buzzing insects, or scurry of birds, just the sound of her boots and the Ghoul’s spurs hitting the ground. Jade feels tight, her whole body coiling readying for something to jump out of the forest. If last night was bad today was somehow worse; she could feel that both of them were waiting on the edge of a knife for something to jump out.  There were a few dilapidated signs, a handful of empty tins, and other trash. But other than that no other signs of anyone. No fresh tracks, or small fire pits, it was as if no one had been here in years. The Ghoul was on alert, checking behind them regularly. The Ghoul being on edge only heightened her fear.

“Have you gone this way before?” Jade asks, talking helps ease the anxiety, even if her voice echoes around the place. 

“Not in a long time,” The Ghoul said, he stopped abruptly, head tilting as he listened. He held up one gloved hand to silence her.

Jade stops, trying to force herself to listen harder. The squeak of her leather holster and the rustle of the Ghoul’s jacket seem to reverberate around them.  As she stood with her head tipped the same way as his, a twig snaps. 

“Something is coming our way,” The Ghoul said, the shotgun he wore on his back now in his hands, he loaded it swiftly and started moving backward down the road. 

Jade grabbed her pistol checking rounds as she took up the same backward walk as the Ghoul did. She could now hear more limbs breaking off trees as they started to move back at a fast pace. Looking up at the tops of the trees she could see them moving; the trees parting in horrid cracks and snaps. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Jade stammers out starting to turn, pistol still in hand as she looks towards the Ghoul, an unreadable expression across his face. 

“RUN.” The Ghoul yells as he starts to move, turning the same as Jade. They both run in the opposite direction of the horrid noise. 

The beast crashes through the trees onto the roadway with enough force to topple trees onto the road. It was an unimaginably massive hulking thing, bear-like legs thick as tree stumps; each foot lined with dozens of claw-like talons, black matted fur that faded up into scale covered skin. The creature was nearly as tall as the trees, the head a mangled twist of flesh that looked like the burnt carcass of a deer. Its eyes flaming red, mouth open in terror inducing scream. The monster charged towards them as they ran, the haunting call shaking the ground beneath their feet. The screech was loud enough to momentarily deafen them. 

The Ghoul stops, sliding into a half kneeling position and firing a shot at its head. Jade took up the same crouched stance, steadying herself as she fired at the beast's underbelly. Black ichor oozed from its flesh but the beast didn’t slow down. Jade moves lower aiming for a leg, she watches as chunks of flesh go flying out of the thing. 

“Take out its legs” Jade calls, watching the Ghoul load in different ammo, before leveling his weapon back at the thing.

The creature came up on them fast and hard, the ground around them shaking. A loud pop erupts and one of the creature's front paws explodes into gore. The creature fumbles but continues forward on three legs. Barely slowed down by the missing appendage. 

“Fuck,” The Ghoul roared as he reloaded and went to aim, a chuck coming free from the blast. It wasn’t enough, the thing was going to be on top of them in moments. 

Any rational thought went out of Jade’s mind, her pack slipping off her back, they were going to die, and the beast was going to be on top of them in moments. Dropping her pistol, which had been nearly useless up to this point; she grabs the machete from her back and runs towards the thing. She could hear the Ghoul calling out her name as she ran straight at the beast. The thing's head coming down, mouth opening, decaying teeth, and spit drooling out.  Wild eyes burning against hers as she dove towards it. Jade could see right down the beast’s throat, as she crashes into its mouth, her makeshift sword straight ahead of her. The feeling of hot humid stink coming out as she turns to swing in an arch around the inside of the monster's throat. A wrecked scream shook her as she felt black blood splash around her. Her ears going deaf from the intense noise ringing around her. The space got smaller as she slashed and swung wildly, chunks of its flesh flying as she lodged herself in its throat. She could feel it trying to swallow, her machete lodged firmly in the roof of the creature's throat. Reaching for her waist Jade grabbed her hunting knife sticking it down into the soft tissue. The thing is trying to scream as she cuts and hacks, trying to remove herself from inside its maw. 

She felt another impact rattle the creature’s body, the beast tossing it’s head back and forth. Jade holding on for dear life and as she tries to cut and saw through whatever she could. Reaching up she grabs the machete slamming it in between her feet as she slides towards the monster’s guts. The soft flexible flesh below her opens up as she slides down the horrors esophagus. She dug her boots in as she felt it start to fall, her body tensing bracing for impact. Her world goes dark as she watches the ground come flying up as the creature collapses. 

The Ghoul felt fear wash over him as he saw Jade leap into the gaping maw of the thing. He calls out her name several times hoping it would somehow stop her. The creature stopping and shook its massive head back and forth trying to cough her up. He could see blood oozing as his companion struggles inside. He reloads the explosive round back into his shotgun. The beast pausing long enough for him to aim for the other front leg. The rounds punching through and shattering the beast's foot. It rose on its back to feet, front stumps trying to grab at the horror's throat. He could see the machete blade poke out and start to slide down opening up the beast’s throat. He reloads and aims for center mass,firing. The Ghoul hoping to the stars that he would miss where Jade was. A head sized hole went through the beast's chest, it sways back and forth before falling forward.

“Fuck,” The Ghoul shouts, running toward the beast, its fiery eyes dimmed, black ichor covering the ground, guts, and bones scattered in a circle of gore. 

He got to the beast trying to move it, which was a near Herculaneum feat. He managed to roll it enough too see where Jade had hacked underneath its giant jaw. The slit she had made that ran down the monster’s neck, gaped open. Following it down he used his blade to start opening it up more, going down to where Jade’s hands were gripping the machete. Two of her fingers on her left hand were gone, as he peels back the meat to reveal more of her arms.

“Jade, Jade,” Ghoul shouts, fingers slipping on all the black blood, he grabs at her hands and tries to pull. The right one felt wrong, looking into the hole it is clear that her arm is probably dislocated. Cussing some more, he cut and cut. Thankfully his knife was sharp. He found her head and her eyes rolling back as he tips her face up to him.

“You better not be fuckin’ dead,” He shouts, slapping her face trying to get her attention. “Come on girly, come on.”

He held her up and cut low enough he could grab under her left arm and pull. Hoping that he didn't tear her stitches as he yanked. Part of her popped out, her hips still stuck. Growling he rips at the flesh tearing it apart with his gloved hands and yanking her out. Her body flops on the ground covered in black goo. Scrambling over to her, he flips her over clearing her mouth and nose of any goop. The stuff was everywhere. He shook her, calling her name several more times, but she lay limp in his arms. Pulling one of his gloves off he searched for a pulse, his hands were too thick and gnarled from radiation to feel much. He lays her gently, taking his hat off he unzips her jacket and pulls her shirt up placing his ear on her chest. 

The soft steady beat of heart and lungs working was like a shot of chem. He leans back covering her skin gently, wincing at the number of fresh bruises blooming across her abdomen. Looking around he spots her bag, getting up he walks over and opens it up, grabbing a stimpak. He walks back and injects one into Jade’s neck. She doesn't move. 

He wasn’t sure the extent of the damage, she was missing two fingers which could be stitched closed and bandaged, her right shoulder was dislocated, another easily fixed thing. The bruising was worrisome, looking down he could see her feet weren’t sitting properly. Moving down he moved her pant legs up some, the coloring was purple at the top of her socks.

“Goddamnit,” The Ghoul hushes, he’d need to get her boots off. He untied them, opening them up some more, her feet were so swollen they didn’t want to come off. 

“You’re gonna hate me, but these got to come off,” Sighing, he cut the boots off. His hands might have lost a lot of feeling but it didn’t feel like her bones were broken. Carefully he grabbed her heel pulling it towards him and twisting. A satisfying pop echos, the Ghoul letting out a breath, before moving on to the next one. He rests her feet down on the ground, checking over the rest of her, he was shocked there wasn’t more damage. Next, he grabs her right arm feeling up to the shoulder and rotating it into place. The girl didn’t even move, he wonders if he should be grateful or worried. Leaning down he could still hear her breathing, looking over her face he couldn’t see any bruising but that didn’t mean there weren't issues. He grabbed his hat and slipped it back on, staring at her. 

As the Ghoul ponders what to do next with his companion, his eyes catch the black slim moving. Standing he watches as it starts to slither back towards the body. Looking around he could see bone had started to grow out of the stumps of the blown off paws. Turning he saw the slit at the thing's throat begin to mend. The black ooze moving on its own back to the mangled body.

“What the fuck,” Ghoul mutters as he watches the things start to piece it’s self together. It wasn’t instant but it wasn’t slow either. In a matter of hours, most of the gore would be gone and the creature repaired.

The Ghoul turning back to his unconscious companion, his mind running. Some part of him wanted to leave her there, take off, as she probably won’t make it anyway. Las thing he needed dead weight and all that. His eyes looking over his companion, she looked so different compared to the day he found her. Her skin wasn’t pale anymore, now a deep sandy color, the stitches on her arm poking out. 

Jade may have looked like a frightened young woman when he met her, but she was anything but. She was a survivor, a fighter, and had had his back on more than one occasion. The stupid girl had jumped down the throat of this beast without thinking.

“FUCK,” The Ghoul shouts, kicking at the dead carcass as he stomps over to the treeline. 

Snapping several smaller branches he walked back over to Jade, digging around he found a length of rope. He used it to make a makeshift sled. He wasn’t going to be able to carry her all the way out, but dragging her might give them enough to get away from whatever the fuck that was. He shed his duster laying it down on the makeshift sled, before moving his companion onto it, Placing the bags on either side of her bare feet to try and keep her steady. Grabbing the rope he started to move away from the dead beast. Looking over his shoulder he saw the blackness still seeping back into the dead body. He wished he had a bomb, so he could blow the thing up enough that it would take weeks to piece itself back together not hours.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

*likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated

*we got a lot of hurt, and very little comfort, it's gonna be tense for a while friends.

@pixelatedprofilepic @hiddlebatchedloki @toogaytofunctiondangit

Lonely girl boredom cures ౨ৎ

headphone + playlist + long walks

attempt to write a poem

go buy yourself some flowers and make a pretty bouquet

make a summer vision board

cleanout and organise your closet

try a fun recipe (I've been making my own low-cal ice cream lately)

try a new makeup style/technique

do a YouTube workout (Daisy Keech workouts are my fav!!)

read my monthly mail :P

have a self-care evening

trim your hair (rethink this one well though hahaha)

plan/try on some outfits and maybe take some pictures

make a monthly in's and out's list

make a new playlist (and share it with me!!)

send a cute message question to your favourite blogger

redecorate or rearrange your room

write a letter to your future self

As always, please feel free to share your own suggestions and tips in the comments!! <3

‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧౨ৎ

The double standard 🤮

Also when israeki diaper force snipes 4 year old, media says "accidentally a stray bullet found its way into a 3-4 year old young lady"

I just wait for the day when israel has to pay for everything it has done. We will never forgive, we will never forget.

STOP PLAYING WHB.

So, before you start asking why you should stop playing, I want to explain why you should stop and boycott the game.

1.) The Pancake Shop

Recently they upgraded the Pancake Shop, and, to say the least, it's bad.

While I love the concept of using pancakes to buy L-Grade Characters, I believe them taking away the option to purchase the Lesser Red Keys is a step in the wrong direction, because now you can only purchase them in the gem shop, which, is stupid.

Also, they made an option for you to exchange your Pancakes for the new Pancakes, and, I had 1k saved up, but for some reason, they made the exchange rate less?

This is idiotic because if I had 1k saved up, then I should get my 1k back if you're just going to take it away.

Anyway, they took away the Lesser Red Keys, which is the worst step they could've taken because now they're going to lose a bunch of players. I counted on getting those Lesser Red Keys every single day so I could get the possibility of getting an L-Grade Character because I cannot afford to pay $40.00 for a character behind a paywall!

2.) Paywall Characters

Why the actual fuck am I paying $41.00 for a character. Why? I understand that it comes with extra stuff, but in all honesty, there should be an option to pay for the extra stuff, and then an option to pay just for the character.

I understand that defeats the purpose of the "gacha" game, but $41.00 is actual insanity. I admit, I have paid $41.00 in the past to acquire a character, but, this time, I've realized that maybe that is way too much money they're charging just for a character (because in all actuality, do you really care about the stuff that comes with it? No. You care about the character.)

Plus, it's only 10 stages that you get upon purchase! Not the entire thing! If I'm gonna pay $41.00 it better be because I'm unlocking the entire shebang, but it's not!

But, the whole idea of keeping characters behind a paywall is stupid because you have players like myself who work hard during the events who log in every day to play the game and get almost nothing in reward for playing the game.

Like, you made the game. You want players to play, don't you? So why am I being scammed out of my rewards?

So, now that I've said all of that, let's talk about boycotting.

How do I boycott?

Excellent question! You do not buy ANYTHING the game offers you. Do not purchase ANYTHING with your own money for a certain amount of time, and, also, DO NOT LOG IN.

What's the purpose of this, you may ask? Well, it's so that way PrettyBusy sees that they're losing players and buyers, so it grabs their attention! Boycotting makes change! If you boycott, we could get the Lesser Red Keys back, and, also possibly have them consider to not put these characters only behind a paywall!

SO, FROM JULY 4TH, 2024, TO JULY 20TH, 2024, BOYCOTT THE GAME!

PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD AROUND! I would like for this to get off the ground so players can get what they want! We're the ones who keep this game going, not PrettyBusy! Without us, there would be no game, so please, players, spread the word around and get this going!

Here is a post on Twitter/X @ing PrettyBusy. Please retweet it so it can gain some traction! Also in the comments @ PrettyBusy! In the meantime, PLEASE REBLOG THIS POST TO BREACH CONTAINMENT. SPREAD THE WORD AROUND!

Feel free to also screenshot this post and post it onto the Reddit forums! r/WhatInHellIsBad?

Ahhh this is so good! I know this is just a two part one shot, but if you ever consider making it into a larger series PLEASE add me to the tag list.

I love reading daredevil x reader writing but the angst in this is fantastic! Frank Castle has me in a chokehold I swear.

Now That We Don't Talk | Frank Castle x F!Reader

BONUS FIC

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Read Is It Over Now? for better clarity.

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader (past Matt Murdock x F!Reader)

Summary: You go home with the guy from the bar, and he makes you forget about your ex.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "attagirl", slight Dom!Frank, song references, unprotected p in v, dirty talk

Word Count: 2.9k

A/n: You wanted a part 2, so you're getting a part 2! Anyway, I don't write Frank often, so I hope it isn't too bad. It's also not as spicy as you probably expected, but I wanted this to fit the vibe of the previous fic (link above). You don't need to have read it to understand this, but it is highly recommended because some references might confuse you. Thank you all for taking part in this event!

You believed that your life had ended when you lost him. He painted your world in the brightest colors, but by breaking your heart, he took them away. All that was left to see was a boring shade of gray in a sea of sadness. 

Matt told you from the start that being with him wouldn’t be easy. You were willing to try. He needed someone, and you wanted to be that someone to him. You accepted him unconditionally. 

In the end, giving everything wasn’t enough. He chose her over you, and the castle you two had built came crashing down on you while he stood idly by. 

You’re not a bitter person, you have never been, but he made you fall for him; he made you believe that there was hope for the future and that you would grow old together. He stole years of your life in which you were trying to save him from himself. In return, he took the best care of you, but that doesn’t matter much now that he has taken your heart and shattered it like a glass of red wine on a white cloth. 

When you left him, you thought the distance would kill you. You truly believed that this was the end of everything, not just your relationship with the man you thought was the one but yourself as well. “This isn’t what it looks like!” he said the day you found out the ugly truth.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. The pain burned brighter than the sun, and it dried your eyes before they could even shed a tear.  

He argued with you that, “It was just a kiss,” but you not once believed him. 

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No.”

It was at that moment you lost all of your trust in him—in what could have been or should have been the two of you, forever—and it was also the moment that Matt realized he had lost you. 

You believed that he took everything you ever were that day because your life revolved around him, and only him. 

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said, begging you not to leave. 

“Fuck you!” you had never sworn at him until that day.

You still remember the way the necklace with his initial felt when you tore it off your neck and tossed it at his feet. He knew you better than anyone, and you felt like you finally belonged somewhere. That necklace was a symbol of your undying love, or so you thought, anyway. Now you know that he may have known you to some extent, but you didn’t matter enough for him not to climb into bed with his ex-girlfriend.

You couldn’t even look at the necklace. He told you, “This is a piece of my heart,” when he gave it to you on a snowy Christmas Day three years ago. You cherished it the same way you cherished his soul. He was broken, but he was your broken man. He was everything to you. 

Matt Murdock was your moon, your son, and your entire universe. It all seemed far away that you could ever feel about anyone this way again. 

You saw a future with him. Married, a house in the suburbs, and working with Foggy and Karen in their new law office after everything they’ve been through. You were a hopeful person back then.

Karen told you that he went to a party a couple of weeks after you separated. He didn’t look like himself. You wonder if he felt anxious, knowing his only source of comfort was no longer there. You wouldn’t know until you asked him, but you refused to answer his calls.

Part of you felt euphoric, knowing that he was broken too, but you also felt angry because he was the reason you found your heart beyond repair as he stepped on it like a burning cigarette, and in your mind, he had no right to feel this way.

You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock! I wish we’d never met.

“Another one for the lady,” a voice says beside you. 

Your empty glass of tequila disappears and a full one slides in its place. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger. 

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He gets up from his seat and sits down on the empty bar stool next to you. “You look miserable,” he says.

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand. You introduce yourself. 

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say. 

You thought nothing and no one could pull you out of the dark hole your breakup tossed you into. You believed yourself dead and long beyond the point of redemption. You accepted it. You swallowed in your misery, giving up on finding a new purpose in your life because the one great thing you had was no longer yours. He fell into a grave that he dug for himself, and he dragged your relationship down with him.

Looking into Frank’s eyes now though, you no longer feel like a corpse. And you realize that you are not dead, not at all—you are very much alive. 

The door almost breaks off its hinges when Frank shoves you into his apartment and back against it. The decision to come back to his place was fueled by a lot of alcohol and the way he looked at you. You were desperate to feel something other than the hollow ache that has consumed you every day for months. His eyes told you that he may be able to give you just what you need, no strings attached.

The way he kisses you breathes new life into your mangled soul. He swallows your mouth and your needy moans with his own, and his tongue forces itself down your throat as your teeth clash in a fight for dominance. You’re both tipsy, but he seems to know just what he’s doing.

His calloused fingers burn against your skin. In the back of your mind, Matt is still so present. His hands are the ones you can’t help but compare him to. 

The way he used to kiss you before fucking you into the mattress for hours on end, switching between tasting and fingering you until you were whimpering and begging him for release might have screwed you up forever. He told you one night that he wanted to ruin you for any other man. Back then, you both still believed that you would grow old together.

It is truly ironic how fast things change when you are truly happy and believe that nothing can burst your bubble.

Frank’s large hands brace against the door on either side of your head. His lips disappear from yours. “Who is he?” he asks, his voice rough like gravel.

You meet his eyes, unsure of what to say. Your mind is everywhere but here, and yet it is right with him. Whether it is alcohol or self-loathing, you’re not sure. 

“What?” you whisper.

“You’re trynna forget someone. Who is it?”

He is a lot more perceptive than you thought.

You swallow, blood rushing to your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–” you didn’t what? Think? You feel utterly pathetic.

Instead of throwing you out though, like you expected he would, he reaches out to caress your cheek. His eyes soften as they gaze at you. “Whoever he is, he obviously didn’t treat you right,” he says. “If you want to go, I’m not stoppin’ you, but if you wanna forget whoever is fuckin’ with your head, I’ll make damn sure you forget his name by the end of tonight.”

There is something excitingly terrifying about the look in his eyes. A shiver runs down your spine, and your thighs clench at the thought of feeling his hands somewhere other than your face. Somewhere other than your hips and thighs. His kisses knocked the air out of your lungs. You want more, you need more, but you don’t know if you can take it. Not him—even though you’re also not quite sure if you can take him—but also the offer he is presenting to you. As lucrative as it sounds, fuck, you are not over Matt. And you’re not sure if you can ever forget him.

You want to though. You have to. And you want to be thoroughly fucked into the next day and forget the name of the man that makes you so fucking angry.  

“Talk to me,” Frank coaxes your head toward him. “Do you wanna forget the useless bastard that made you feel this way?”

“Yes,” you manage a breathless whisper.

“Did he hurt you? Break your heart?”

You nod.

“You deserve better.” His grip tightens, and his hand slowly slides to your neck. “I’m not, but I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll forget his name and scream mine loud enough for this fuckin’ city to know who’s making you feel good. ‘s that what you want, hm?”

He’s dangerous, but that has never turned you off, even when it should have.

And when you finally open your mouth and tell him, “Yes, please. Make me forget,” the switch inside of him flicks completely.

He takes his time to worship between your thighs. His tongue buried in your pussy, his lips sucking on your clit without mercy. He eats you out roughly but sensually, keeping you spread wide open for him with both of his hands and a force unmatched—like a five-course meal, and he has all the time in the world for you. 

You’re lost in the throes of pleasure. You want to buck your hips against his mouth because no matter what he does, you’re on fire and you just can’t get enough, but he is so powerful that you can’t fight him. He has you at his mercy, your body in his hands, and all the control in the world over you. 

You pull at his hair, moaning helplessly as he feasts on your pussy. You’re going mad, you’re sure. He’s doing this on purpose, driving you to the edge before stopping the wave. Frank waits until your orgasm is just far enough for you to last a little longer, kissing the inside of your thighs, and then he dives right back into your wet folds. He thrusts his tongue into your hole, licks up to your clit, and then sucks on the swollen bundle until your legs are shaking in his hands. 

“Jesus, Frank!” you moan out. A trail of sweat runs from your temple down to your breasts. 

Your hands search for something to hold onto, tangling in the sheets and the pillow behind your head before pulling at the fabric. You tried pulling at his hair, but he wouldn’t let you. 

“That’s right,” he growls. “Come for me.”

Your back arches off the mattress. His name leaves your lips in a desperate shout as your orgasm crashes into you. 

“Attagirl.”

Your brain is hulled into an endless fog, but Frank doesn’t stop. 

Soon, you’re on your stomach, gripping the headboard as he pounds into you from behind. He is long and thick, and with every thrust, he forces your face deeper into the pillows. Your eyes have rolled back into your head. He hits that spongy spot inside of you whenever he pleases, and the gurgled moans from the pit of your throat spur him on to speed up, change the angle and thrust even deeper. 

He pulls out all the way, thrusting back into you with full force until he is completely sheathed in your pussy. Your heat consumes him, and he sees red. But so do you. He has reduced you to a few incoherent thoughts, babbling his name in the wake of the drool that is dripping from the corner of your mouth. 

And when you come this time, it is pulled back straight against his chest with his fingers rubbing circles over your already abused clit. You come with a scream of his name, and nothing else matters but his cum in your cunt and the unbelievable depth of the feelings he is eliciting within you. 

You drop to the mattress like a wet towel, covered in his and your cum, and your sweat that has mingled with his. His smell lingers in the sheets as you bury your nose in it. He collapses on top of you. The crushing weight of him offers a sense of comfort that almost makes you cry. And he holds you as though you mean more to him than a One-Night stand he picked up to help forget a man who broke her heart. 

“What’d he do?” Frank asks into the silence later that night.

You are lying on his bed, covered by only his thin sheets. He’s sitting on the other side, nursing a glass of Bourbon. He held you, he cleaned you up, and he offered you some clothes, which you denied. He is kinder to you than you thought he would be, and it warms your heart in a way you can only deem utterly dangerous with how vulnerable you are. Broken people make dumb decisions, and you do not ever want to go through the same pain again. 

At least you know that you are still desired. That you’re not dead. Perhaps, there is still hope for a better future. You made Matt Murdock your life for the longest time, and maybe, as you realize now, that was a mistake. There is more to life than him, and you can live without him. That it took fucking a stranger after weeks of being miserable baffles you, but some things are just meant to happen. Maybe it was destiny, after all. 

You look at him when Frank repeats his question. “What’d the bastard do, hm?” he asks.

Where do you even start? 

When you last checked in on him through your mutual friends—you know it wasn’t the best choice, but you couldn’t help it—they told you that grew his beard, and he last had a haircut when you were still together. It suits him, apparently, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at a picture of him.

Foggy told you that he isn’t taking home girls when they go to a bar, even though he could have all of them. He’s sad. He drowns himself at work and beats his fist bloody every night. The old you would have jumped up to help him. And it is true that you will probably always love him, in a way, but you refuse to crawl back to him.

The more you gave, the more he took, and at the first chance at getting a woman he claimed to no longer love when she came back into your lives, he took her. He couldn’t have wanted you as badly as he claimed if that was enough for him to flush years of loving each other and going through hell together down the drain, knowing it would break your heart into a million pieces. That is probably the worst part about all of it.

You take a deep breath. Frank is still staring at you intently, waiting for an answer. “He fucked his ex,” you finally confess. “Four years of being together and it still wasn’t enough.”

His grip tightens around his glass. “Want me to pay him a visit?”

You chuckle, but you know that he would. “No. But thank you.”

Matt was fading long before you left. Even if you did choose to forgive him, you couldn’t be his friend, so things are better the way they are now. You paid the ultimate price for sacrificing your heart to a man who had too many struggles to deal with himself.

In the silence, you find a little light. “At least I don’t have to pretend to like Jazz anymore,” you say. 

Frank takes another sip, asking, “Jazz?”

“Yeah, Jazz. He loves it. He…He’s special. Well, he was to me, anyway.”

“Special? Fuck, the guy did a number on you, huh?”

You scoff. “You have no idea.”

The only way back to your dignity is to learn how to be without him. You have to turn yourself back into a mystery and learn how to trust someone again before your fragile heart breaks again.

“You still talk?” Frank asks.

You shake your head. “No. It’s over now,” you say. “We don’t talk anymore.”

“Told ya. You deserve better.”

“Nah.” You reach for his glass, taking a sip of the bitter liquor that you used to despise. Looking up at him through hooded eyes, you stretch his leg toward him. 

You need to keep forgetting Matt’s name, no matter what it takes or the reminiscing will surely kill you.

“Right now,” you murmur with an irresistible smirk that makes him leap at you as soon as the words pass your lips, “I just need to forget he ever existed by screaming someone else’s name.” 

Frank captures your lips in a bruising kiss, leaving you speechless and breathless all the same. 

Matt chased you, he caught you, and then he lost you. And now that Frank has you, you never want to look back. 

Now that you don't talk.

I don't have a tag list for Frank, so I'm just leaving this here.

Hello everybody with summer fast approaching here is your regular reminder that:

Everyone needs to wear sunscreen

SPF 50 is pretty much the best protection you can get, an SPF higher than that will have the same effect

Melanin does not protect you from skin cancer

Tanning is caused by exposure to ultraviolet radiation

Spending the majority of your life receiving regular large doses of UV radiation without any skin protection is a good way to get skin cancer

Don't use tanning beds, and don't go sun tanning

Wear your fucking sunscreen

i can't have beef with the power of friendship trope because if someone wanted to hang out with me i'd probably reconsider my stance on turning the city into the 10th circle of hell

Read this on AO3 and left a comment there, great job again, I wanted to reblog it here as well 🫡👍

Can't Run from the Truth

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings/tags: 18+; light angst, embarrassment, confession of feelings, happy ending, a smidgen of fluff and implied smut

Summary: After finishing a hunt, you and the Winchester brothers end up at a local dive bar in an attempt to wind down from the evening, though it doesn't take long for you to quickly find yourself drinking down your feelings while Sam flirts at the bar. But when the truth about your feelings for Sam accidentally comes to light, you panic and find yourself immediately ready to split ways with the brothers.

a/n: I'm back on my Sammy bullshit and couldn't resist a little one shot while I'm working on my series for him (Always Waiting for You). Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you absently spun your partially drunk bottle of beer between your thumb and index finger, your chin resting in your other hand. The growing chatter of the dive bar filled the room around you as your beer sloshed back and forth inside the bottle, your attention only somewhat focused on the way Dean was discussing the hunt you'd all just finished–a poltergeist that had been haunting a young couples’ new home.

Truthfully your attention was elsewhere tonight, keeping you from focusing on anything that Dean was saying as he sat across the sticky, wooden table from you. Vaguely your mind registered the sound of him laughing at one of his own jokes, but you were too busy watching Sam where he sat across the bar drinking down his second beer. You could see the dimples visible in his cheeks as he nodded his head, smiling wide at something the attractive brunette who'd struck up a conversation with him shortly after your arrival had said. You couldn't help but notice how close she was sitting beside him at the bar, either. 

Jealousy flared within you as you watched the pair of them continue to chat. Honestly you couldn't fault the young woman for her obvious attraction to Sam or for the way she was openly flirting with him. You weren't stupid, you knew exactly how handsome he was. It wasn’t as if both brothers didn’t always catch the attention of women whenever you all stopped in a new town. That wasn't exactly new to you.

But you also knew Sam was far more than just his outward appearance. He was an incredibly smart and compassionate man, having a bigger heart than most anyone else you'd ever met. He was selfless and courageous; the amount of times you’d firsthand witnessed him putting someone else’s life before his own had been too many to count at this point. But he was also sensitive, funny, and thoughtful. Whenever life on the road had begun to take its toll on you, Sam was always the first one finding ways to cheer you up over the past few months since you'd joined the brothers hunting. 

As much as you’d hate to admit it, even just to yourself, you'd grown to love all of those traits of his over the time you had gotten to know him. Because inevitably you had gone and developed strong feelings for Sam. Ones you couldn't deny existed any longer even if you constantly did your best to keep them to yourself. Which was why you were currently sitting at the table and sulking on your barstool as you drank down your third beer of the night, your eyes glued to his plaid back. 

It hurt to watch him flirt back with the woman. Every boyish grin he sent her way tore at your heart, and the way her hand often lingered on his shoulder or his thigh when she spoke to him had you gnawing your cheek even more aggressively in an attempt to keep from crying. You wished you had the courage to ever just tell Sam how you felt. Wished he would want to pull you aside after a hunt and smile at you the same way he was smiling at this complete stranger.

Releasing a dejected sigh, your hand abruptly gripped the neck of your beer bottle. Life on the road hunting never really presented the opportunity to have relationships, which was something you knew from your own experience over the past few years. And while you were quite aware of the fact that neither brother seemed too interested in forming serious attachments to anyone because of that, you also knew Sam. You knew it wasn't a secret that he longed for a normal life, one free of hunting. You always quietly wondered if he would ever eventually fall for one of these women he randomly met and occasionally flirted back with in one of these towns. It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility after all. Would he ever consider getting serious with one of them?

Something lightly smacked into the beer bottle in your hand, the resounding clink the glass emitted jolting you out of your thoughts. Your eyes flew from the view of Sam's plaid shirt stretched across his broad back and came to land on Dean sitting across from you. There was a knowing albeit annoyed look you didn't quite appreciate drawn across his face.

“Seriously?” he asked, raising a brow at you. 

“What?” you asked him.

Dean shot you a flat look. “Did you hear anything I just said?” he questioned. “Or were you too busy staring at Sammy over there?”

Heat burned your cheeks at Dean's blunt accusation. You were immediately embarrassed that he had somehow noticed what you'd actually been doing while he’d been talking, but you clearly weren't about to admit you had in fact been staring at Sam. Shaking your head gently from where it still rested in the palm of your left hand, your gaze dropped down to where you once more began awkwardly fidgeting with your beer bottle.

“I wasn't staring at him,” you lied. “I'm just spacing out. We were up most of last night researching the case, remember? I'm just tired.”

“Uh huh,” Dean replied. He gestured a hand at your beer bottle as he asked, “Is that why you're drinking so much tonight then? Because I've noticed that you always drink more when someone gets a little flirty with my brother.”

“I do not,” you grumbled, eyes still downcast.

You heard the way Dean shifted in his stool across from you, emitting a noise of disbelief at your response. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him raise his beer to his lips before taking a drink. You kept your eyes averted from his, focusing on the table in the hopes that he couldn’t see the truth written on your face if you didn’t make eye contact with him.

“That's your third beer,” Dean pointed out a moment later, lowering his bottle back to the table. “I know you only have one drink at most after a hunt. But usually you’re the sober one. Now tonight some chick is over there being handsy with my brother, and here you are downing your third beer already.” 

Twirling your beer bottle even more nervously at how observant he was, you heard Dean sigh before he shifted again in the barstool. Leaning forward towards you, he rested his elbows along the table looking anything but ready to drop the topic. Clenching your jaw, you continued to avoid his gaze–though you could certainly feel the way he was staring at you now.

“I see how you are around Sam. It's painfully obvious you like the guy,” Dean continued, his tone far softer. “So why the hell don't you just tell him already?”

“Because I don't like him,” you retorted. 

“Oh come on,” Dean shot back. “You definitely drink more whenever we stop somewhere and some chick flirts with him. It’s happened more than enough times for me to know it isn’t just a coincidence.”

You shrugged weakly, still refusing to meet Dean’s eyes. “Like I said, I’m just tired. And it’s been a long day. That poltergeist did throw a mirror at me. I think that warrants me trying to have a few drinks to unwind for the night.”

Sam had also very meticulously and tenderly cleaned and bandaged the cuts you’d received on your bicep from the glass shattering immediately after the fact. The memory of his gentle, warm hands on your skin as he’d taken care of your wounds after the fact had been worth the injury in the end, but you'd rather face a vampire nest alone than voice that thought aloud. 

“Bullshit,” Dean challenged. “I see the way you smile at him. I see how you sneak looks at him, especially on long drives. The way you laugh at his jokes–which are terrible, by the way. We all know I’m the funny one.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. As Dean continued on, you raised your beer from the table, taking a deep pull off of it as you turned your head over your shoulder and focused on the window to your left. It was getting fairly late now, the nearly full moon hanging low in the night sky. Just across the street you could see the Impala parked out front of the motel the three of you were staying at tonight, the red neon of the bright sign catching your attention.

“He likes you, too, you know,” Dean told you. 

You huffed out an unamused, bitter laugh at the thought. “Now that is some bullshit, Dean,” you muttered, still focused on the motel across the street. “He sees me like you do. As a little sister.”

“Are you kidding me?” he snapped. “Do you not see the way his face lights up whenever you stay up late with him to research a case? Or how excited he gets when you help him search online newspapers for a new job?”

“Because you never want to,” you replied, finally turning your attention to Dean. “I can’t let him be the only one doing all the work when we're on a job. And I’m sure he just appreciates getting the help.”

Dean pulled a face at you, shaking his head. “That’s definitely not it, I think I know my own brother. I mean, the man gets heart eyes when you find us a diner that has avocado toast on the menu.”

“Well we don’t all enjoy eating greasy burgers constantly,” you argued back. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Across the table from you, Dean’s eyes narrowed. Something smug crossed his features next and you found yourself growing a little more nervous at the sight. You didn’t believe him in the slightest about Sam, but you knew he was far too right about how you felt. And you didn't like that one bit.

“Then what about those times I’ve seen you both share a bed?” he questioned, that smug expression still on his face. “Countless times I’ve woken up to take a piss and I’ve found the pair of you cuddled up together looking rather cozy beneath the sheets.”

Your cheeks burned again as you ducked your head awkwardly, once more avoiding his probing gaze. Truthfully you’d never known what to make of those mornings yourself when you and Sam had woken up in bed wrapped around each other. Usually you both profusely apologized before one of you–usually you–bolted to the bathroom. And then nothing further was ever said after the fact.

“It’s not intentional,” you weakly replied. 

“You know,” Dean began in a cocky tone, “out of all the times I’ve shared a bed with you, we’ve never woken up like that. Pretty sure that says something.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you firmly countered.

“Just admit it already,” he pushed. “Stop trying to deny it. You have feelings for him.”

Eyes snapping shut at his determined persistence, your hand tightened hard around the neck of your beer bottle. You could feel the alcohol in your system beginning to cloud your mind, making you more easily irritated with Dean than you normally would’ve been if he had brought up this subject when you hadn’t already drank so much. 

“At the very least, you can admit it to me,” he continued. “Both of you are so damn stubborn, but I already know–”

“Yes, fine!” you snapped, eyes flying open as you glared across the table at Dean. “If it gets you to finally shut up about it, yes! I like Sam, alright? And I can’t stand watching him flirt with other women whenever we’re out because yeah, I wish it was me instead. So I drink a little extra to try to ignore how much it hurts me. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

You were fuming as you glared at Dean, your jaw clenched tight as he sat there with a self-satisfied grin on his face. The sight of that grin confused you, somehow further growing your irritation at him and this topic. If he'd wanted to get a rise out of you tonight, he’d certainly succeeded.

“What?”

At the sound of the voice coming from just beside you, you abruptly stiffened in your seat. Mouth falling open as your eyes widened in shock, you instantly recognized that voice. Sam was apparently standing beside you and no longer sitting over at the bar, meaning he most likely had overheard what you'd just angrily admitted. Your heart immediately began to race in your chest, your palms beginning to dampen with sweat as embarrassment flooded you.

“Yeah,” Dean said, that amused little grin still on his mouth as his eyes glittered with mischief. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, actually.” His attention shifted to just over your shoulder, his expression never wavering. “Perfect timing there, too, Sammy. I’m guessing you caught all of that?”

Panic soon mixed with the embarrassment you felt, your body still rigid where you sat in the bar stool. You didn’t dare to look at Sam behind you as the urge to bolt out of the bar hit you strong and hard. 

This whole situation was mortifying. How were you supposed to go back to the motel and sleep in the same room with either of them after that? How were you supposed to share a bed with either of them? Or continue to even work together? It was one thing when you could pretend you were just friends with Sam and he had no clue about your actual feelings, but now that he knew? You felt like you were going to be sick with the way your stomach was twisting and churning.

You needed to get out of the bar. You needed to get away from the Winchesters. Far, far away.

Releasing your death grip on your beer bottle, both of your hands landed down hard on the table. Abruptly you pushed your bar stool back, the legs screeching along the bar floor. That roiling, sick feeling inside your gut only intensified as the seconds passed. As you rose to your unsteady feet, those beers in your system causing the room to spin just a little around you, you caught the way Dean’s expression finally changed. The smug, self-satisfied look shifted to something like concern as his brows drew together.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“I need to go,” you blurted.

Grabbing your bag from off of the bar stool beside you, you flung the strap of it over your shoulder. Still avoiding looking at Sam who’d remained entirely silent, you spun on your heel towards the bar’s exit and made your way straight to it. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Dean exclaimed behind you. “Where do you think you're going?”

You didn't respond. Instead, your sluggish and somewhat inebriated mind was quickly trying to piece some sort of escape plan together. Maybe you could call a cab and get a ride to another motel for the night. You could probably book a flight and head out to Bobby’s place tomorrow and get yourself sorted with a vehicle with his help. It wasn’t like you’d needed to hunt with the Winchesters, after all. For now you’d go back to the motel across the street and grab your duffle bag and wait for a car to come pick you up. When you were safely away from the brothers you’d shoot Dean a text to let him know you were planning to do your own thing so he wouldn’t worry–but you weren’t going to mention going to Bobby’s. You didn’t need them showing up there on you.

Pushing the door of the bar open, you exited the building in a hurry, still ignoring the sound of Dean calling after you. The cool air of the late summer night brushed over your cheeks as you briskly made your way towards the street. The bright red neon of the motel sign was like a beacon of safety right now, drawing you towards it and away from Sam and Dean and the disaster that your night had unexpectedly taken. 

It was quieter outside of the bar as you walked, the lack of extra noise allowing the panicked, anxious thoughts in your head to grow even louder. You couldn’t believe Dean had been such an asshole tonight, intentionally goading you into not only admitting you had feelings for his brother, but pushing you into confessing it within earshot of him without you even knowing. He’d ruined everything by doing that. 

And now you were left with no choice but to go back to hunting alone again. Just you by yourself. The thought had tears pricking at your eyes. Ever since you’d decided to work together with the brothers, hunting and living life on the road had been far less lonely, even if you’d had to deal with your one-sided feelings for Sam. But now it would once more just be you again. With no one to watch your back or shoulder the burden of driving. No one to play amusing games of twenty questions on long car rides, to keep you on your toes with ridiculous pranks, or to keep you company as you ate all your meals on the go. No more Sam to shoot you warm smiles that never failed to brighten your day, or to help patch you up whenever you got hurt.

Roughly wiping the back of your hand across your cheeks, you attempted to remove the few tears that had fallen. With a soft sniffle you fought the urge to continue crying down as you approached room number eight, the room the three of you had rented just before heading over to the bar for a few drinks. Unzipping your purse, you stuck your hand inside and dug around, feeling for the room key. It was a moment before your fingers found it and you pulled it out of your bag. 

Quickly unlocking the door, you pushed it open and stepped inside, shutting it behind you a little harder than necessary. Wasting no time, you tossed your room key onto the small, round table positioned next to the outdated and worn armchair in the room before making your way over to your bag where you’d earlier tossed it onto one of the queen beds. Taking a moment to unzip it, you made sure everything you needed was still packed inside. Satisfied that everything was still there, you sat down onto the end of the bed before reaching back into your purse. You pulled out your cell phone and unlocked the screen, but you hadn't even had a chance to search for a local car service before the motel door swung open. 

Head darting over your shoulder at the abrupt noise, you were surprised to find Sam's tall frame filling the doorway. He stood there staring at you for a moment, a hard to read expression on his face as his lips thinned into a straight line. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding under his gaze. You saw Sam's focus shift to your duffle bag where it sat at your side on the bed before his eyes dropped down to the phone in your hands. It looked as if he'd winced before he focused back on you. 

“What’re you doing?” he asked softly.

Swallowing hard, you watched as he entered the room, carefully closing the motel door behind himself and leaving the pair of you very much alone. You could feel your heart beating harder in your chest as he slowly made his way across the room towards you, another pained look on his face when he saw the room key you'd tossed onto the table.

“Are you…leaving?” he asked slowly, his sad eyes meeting yours once more.

Awkwardly biting your bottom lip, not sure you could trust your voice, you nodded. When his expression further fell, you felt like someone had punched you right in the stomach. He looked so unexpectedly hurt at the news.

“Why?” he asked next, voice barely above a whisper. “Why would you leave?”

Silently you watched as Sam lowered himself onto the foot of the bed next to yours. He was looking at you with such raw emotion on his face that it had you feeling tears beginning to well in your own eyes again. You couldn't understand why he looked so upset, which only had you feeling guilty for almost disappearing on them without a word tonight.

Shrugging lightly at his question, your eyes dropped back down to your phone that you were clutching tight in both of your hands. You didn't want to have this conversation, especially not with Sam.

“Because you weren't supposed to hear any of what I’d said to Dean,” you quietly confessed. “And now things are going to be awkward and weird between us.”

“What do you mean?” he pressed. “How would things be awkward and weird?”

“Because I like you!” you blurted, your watery gaze flying towards where he sat on the other bed. The beers you'd drank earlier had fully loosened your tongue, the words easily flowing from your mouth now that Sam had already learned the truth. “And now you know that I don't just see you as a friend or a hunting partner. And I definitely don’t see you like a big brother despite you and Dean seeing me like a little sister. And that’s embarrassing , Sam! You weren't supposed to hear any of that! Now there’s no way that I can just keep traveling with you both. I can't sit in the car with you for hours on end pretending I don’t have feelings anymore. I can’t share a motel room with you, let alone share a bed with you ever again!”

Sam's eyes narrowed, his dark brows furrowing at what you'd said as if he was confused. But just as he'd opened his mouth to say something in response, you barreled on, not giving him the opportunity as the words continued to spill out of you.

“So I'm just going back to hunting alone,” you told him. “I think that's better for everyone. Certainly better than making everyone uncomfortable by continuing to work together. I’d rather go back to being on the road by myself than–”

“Whoa, hang on,” Sam said, raising a hand and finally cutting you off.

You paused, eyeing him nervously as he waved his hand in the space between the pair of you. He was shaking his head, his features tightened together as if he was in thought. 

“So you're what? Just going to run away now?” he asked. “Without even saying anything first? Not even a goodbye or an explanation?”

Your gaze guiltily dropped down to the phone in your hands. “I was going to send a text,” you murmured.

“Did it ever occur to you at any point to hear what I might have to say?” he questioned. “That maybe you might be wrong?”

Pulling a face, you glanced back up at him. He'd leaned closer towards you from his place on the end of the other bed, a softness reflecting in his hazel eyes that you hadn't ever seen before in them. It had your heart nearly skipping in your chest. 

“Wrong about what?” you asked.

A small, unexpected smile pulled at the corner of his lips, something about it seeming almost timid. Your stomach nervously flipped inside of you at the sight of it. Vaguely you wondered what he could have possibly meant, but you remained silent, lost in the tender way he was staring back at you. A way he’d never quite looked at you before.

“That I view you like a little sister,” he answered softly. “Or that things would be weird between us now that I know how you actually feel about me. Wrong about needing to run off and be on your own again because things would be uncomfortable.”

“But Sam–”

“And wrong to think that I don't have feelings for you,” he finished. 

You sucked in a sharp breath at his words, your lips parting in surprise. For a moment you were too shocked to speak, stunned into a brief silence as you studied that unfamiliar look of fondness on his face. It wasn't one you'd seen before. 

“You–you what?” you stammered out.

Sam’s smile widened a little more, the shyness disappearing from his face as he nodded. “I’ve had feelings for you for a while now. Ever since we finished that exorcism out in Georgia.”

Face scrunching up in thought, your attention dropped back down to the phone in your hands as you tried to think back to when you’d all last been in Georgia dealing with a demon. It took you a moment to finally recall the job.

“But that was…months ago,” you said slowly, your eyes once more meeting Sam’s. “About a month after I officially joined you guys on the road back at Bobby’s.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, rising up from his place at the edge of the bed. “Truthfully I’d had a crush on you when we first met in Indiana. During that haunting we all wound up accidentally working together.” 

Sam crossed the small space between the beds before carefully sitting down on the bed beside you. The weight of him dipped the mattress once he sat, causing your body to inevitably slide a little towards him. Heat crept up your neck at his close proximity, aware that his thigh was mere inches from yours now. Trying to keep your breathing even as it started to come in a little shallow, you averted your gaze from his, setting your phone off to the side of yourself.

“I…didn’t know that,” you said.

“I didn’t want you to,” Sam admitted. “Figured I probably wouldn’t be seeing you again after that, even though we’d all exchanged numbers once the job was finished. But then you’d unexpectedly shown up at Bobby’s months later looking for help with a vamp nest. And when we’d officially decided to work together after that job–” Sam shrugged, his shoulder lightly bumping against yours as he did. “Well, I figured it would be easier to work together if I kept my distance.”

“So you mean,” you began slowly, turning your attention back on Sam at your side, “that all this time you’d actually felt the same?”

“Yeah,” he answered.

“But–but what about the women I’ve seen you flirt with?” you asked before you could stop yourself. “The woman at the bar tonight? That waitress the other week in Kentucky? I thought you liked them?”

Sam quirked a brow at you, his head tilting a little to the side as he shot you a questioning look. “What about that guy who bought you a drink last month in Texas? Or the police officer in Montanna who gave you his number? Were you interested in them?”

You frowned at his question, shaking your head. “No,” you told him. “It was just nice to be noticed for once, I guess.”

Sam grinned at you, laughing lightly as he did. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

A silence fell between the pair of you, your mind racing at everything you’d just learned tonight. You hadn’t expected the night to go the way it had, especially with Sam showing up and admitting that he’d also had feelings for you. But as you sat there trying to process everything, you realized he was steadily leaning in closer to you on the bed, his eyes occasionally flickering towards your mouth. Once more you felt your pulse quicken.

“So now what?” you asked him.

“Well,” Sam began in a hushed tone, his eyes once more dropping down towards your lips before meeting your gaze again, “I’m guessing you’re not still planning to run off on your own, are you?”

He leaned in another inch closer and you found yourself struggling to form a coherent thought. Was he doing what you thought he was? Was he going to kiss you?

“No,” you breathed out.

“Then how about tomorrow morning I take you out for coffee?” he suggested. “Before Dean wakes up. Just you and I?”

He’d leaned in even further now, his face so close you were actively refraining from closing the small distance between yourselves and just kissing him. You could feel the soft exhalations of his warm breath brushing over your cheek every time he breathed and it was making you dizzy.

“I’d like that,” you whispered. 

The corners of his mouth curled even higher before his hand rose up, gently grasping your chin with his fingers and carefully tilting your mouth towards his. His nose lightly bumped against the tip of yours and your eyes instinctively closed at the touch. Tongue darting out to nervously lick your lips, you could feel how hard your heart was pounding, feeling as if the organ itself had somehow jumped up into your throat in anticipation of a kiss.

After a moment you were unable to hold back any longer, his warm breath still rhythmically cascading over your skin had already driven you mad with want. Losing the battle against your self-control, you leaned in and finally connected your lips to his. The kiss was somewhat hesitant at first, your mouth moving carefully against his soft lips as if you were unsure of how he’d react at first. But Sam’s mouth responded to yours with such a firm certainty that you soon melted right into him, your body sinking closer to his on the mattress. His fingers quickly released your chin, his hand soon coming to cradle the back of your head as he kissed you more passionately. There was no denying the way he felt about you with the way his lips were moving against yours right now.

Losing yourself in the moment, your hands flew up and latched onto his broad shoulders. Nails digging into his plaid shirt, you drew him closer to the front of yourself as the heat of his body warmed you in more ways than one. He smelled so good–like a mix of leather from the Impala’s seats, a hint of something like cedarwood from his soap, and a bit of gunpowder from earlier’s hunt. You couldn’t seem to get enough of him, your own mouth heatedly matching the pace of his.

Sam’s other hand was soon gripping your hip tight, tugging you towards himself and almost straight into his lap as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. You’d only barely loosed a faint moan against his mouth at the feel of it before he gradually pulled away, breaking the kiss. Chest heaving as you’d tried to catch your breath, your eyelids slowly fluttered open. Sam’s face hovered just before yours, an obvious flush to his cheeks as he grinned back at you. You couldn’t fight back the smile that broke out across your own face at the sight.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he confessed.

“Yeah,” you said, still attempting to catch your breath from your place now halfway in his lap. “Me too.”

“So uh,” Sam began, clearing his throat a little as his hand left its place cradling the back of your head, both of them now gripping your hips firmly in his large palms, “does this mean we always get to share a bed now?”

Nails still digging into his solid shoulders, you shot him a grin. “If you want,” you replied. “But does that also mean it's not weird if we actually cuddle in bed now?”

A wide smile broke out across his face, somehow making him look even more handsome than usual. The sight nearly knocked the breath out of you. 

“Definitely not weird, no,” he answered. 

Easing your grip on his shoulders, you tentatively wrapped your arms around his neck. When he only continued to smile back at you, you relaxed even further against him.

“So…should we head back to the bar?” you reluctantly suggested. “Let Dean know everything is good?”

“Nah,” Sam said, shaking his head. “He'll figure it out. I think I'd rather enjoy the rare alone time we have suddenly found ourselves with.”

Arching a curious brow at him, you watched as a mischievous smile slipped onto his mouth and lit up his face. Without warning, his hands on your hips tugged you forward and entirely onto his lap. A soft, surprised gasp fell out of you as your arms wrapped even tighter around his shoulders, keeping you steady after the abrupt movement.

“What're you up to, Sam Winchester?” you asked, gazing down at him from your place on his lap.

“I guess you'll just have to wait and see,” he said, shooting you a wink. 

A light laugh escaped you before it was quieted by Sam’s mouth once more crashing onto yours. All thoughts of anything but the way Sam’s large hands had begun roaming their way beneath the back of your shirt quickly left your mind.

i don't know man, i just wish that we could [suddenly realising i'm coming dangerously close to expressing a real and earnest thought instead of filtering everything through several layers of intangible running bits] blow up the entire world. or something.