#and started screaming until it got put back

[vanillaxbambi]

.+*not so soft || jeong yunho.

“yeah, i could be gentle… but that aint what you like.”

.+*contains: softdom!yunho x bratty sub!femreader . . . || degradation | soft dom switch to hard dom | light bondage | squirting ||

.+*wc: 1.3k

synopsis: your loving boyfriend has always taken care of you as if you were a delicate piece of glass. tonight? you’ve definitely tested his limits.

m i k a 🌷: naturally… i would be inspired by the freaked out lyrics of in your fantasy. ESPECIALLY MY MANS YUNHO’S LINES GRAHHHHHH. anywho, enjoy. this was longer than i intended.

m a s t e r l i s t .

he tried.

he really, really tried to be gentle with you tonight.

yunho had started off slow—sweet kisses, soft touches, letting his hands explore you like you were delicate. like you might break.

but you? you weren’t in the mood to be handled with care.

you’d pulled at his hair, whined about how slow he was going, rolled your hips down onto his lap with too much purpose. and when he pushed your shirt up, brushing his fingers over your ribs with reverence, you looked him dead in the eye and said:

“you gonna keep treating me like a soft baby, or you gonna fuck me already?”

something in him snapped.

his fingers stopped mid-stroke. his gaze sharpened. and the next time he touched you, it wasn’t careful.

it was commanding.

he dragged you off his lap and threw you on the bed like you were nothing but a toy he was tired of teasing.

“you’ve got a smart mouth,” he muttered, standing over you, eyes raking down your body. “i’ve been nothing but sweet to you. and you’re still acting like a fucking brat.”

you smirked, thinking it was a game.

but when he grabbed your jaw and made you look up at him, there was no sweetness left in his expression.

“you wanna get used?” he asked, tone dark and dangerous. “you wanna see what i’m like when i stop pretending to be nice?”

your breath caught.

“get on your knees.”

you obeyed. fast. something about his voice left no room for hesitation.

you settled between his legs, hands resting on your thighs, chest rising with anticipation. he undid his belt with maddening calm, letting the leather drag through the loops. you could hear your pulse in your ears.

“open your mouth.”

you did, lips parting slowly.

yunho ran his thumb along your lower lip, then slipped it inside—watching as you instinctively wrapped your tongue around it.

“look at you,” he muttered. “always so defiant until i put something in your mouth.”

he dragged his thumb out and replaced it with two fingers—deep, rough, pressing past your tongue and holding them there until your throat clenched.

“gag on it, baby,” he cooed. “show me how much you wanna choke on my cock.”

you whimpered.

he pulled his fingers out, wiped them on your cheek, then used them to tilt your face up again. “such a good little slut when you’re quiet.”

he dragged you up by your arm and bent you over the bed without warning. the tie he usually wore for work became your wrist restraint, looped behind your back and tugged taut.

“keep those hands there. move, and i stop. understood?”

“yes,” you breathed. “yes, yunho.”

he slid your panties down slow—just to admire the way you were already soaked.

“fucking dripping,” he muttered. “you’re disgusting— pathetic thing.”

you moaned.

“you like that? being called names?” he spat, pushing your legs apart with his knee. “want me to treat you like the little cockdrunk toy you are?”

“yes, fuck—please—”

you didn’t get to finish begging.

because yunho slammed into you in one unforgiving thrust.

you screamed into the sheets, body jolting forward from the force.

“that what you wanted?” he growled, grabbing your tied wrists and shoving them into the small of your back. “you wanted to be fucked like a hole? just used until you cry?”

“yes—yes—yes—”

“mm. now you’re being honest.”

he pulled out almost completely before thrusting back in, harder. faster. his hips slapping against your ass with obscene rhythm.

“feel that? how deep i am?” he grunted. “you’re so fucking small, i can feel your pussy sucking me in. greedy little thing.”

your legs shook. your body was already trembling.

and then he reached around and slapped your clit.

hard.

“don’t you dare cum,” he growled. “not until i say.”

“fuck—yunho—please—”

“you don’t get to beg, baby,” he hissed into your ear. “you lost that right the second you started acting like a brat.”

he kept thrusting. kept rubbing your clit. kept making filthy little observations between groans. “you hear how wet you are? nasty fucking sounds, baby.”

“look at that—your thighs are shaking. you gonna fall apart already?”

“what would your friends say if they saw you like this, huh? bent over and drooling for me?”

your body jolted again.

“answer me.”

“they’d—they’d say i’m a fucking mess,” you sobbed. “they’d say i’m pathetic for loving it—”

yunho groaned like it turned him on more than anything.

“pathetic little mess,” he echoed, thrusting faster. “you’re gonna cum now. do it. i want this pussy ruined.”

you exploded.

your orgasm hit like a flood, body twitching, mouth open in a silent cry, tears dripping down your cheeks as he fucked you through it.

but he didn’t stop.

not when you clenched. not when you begged. not even when your knees collapsed and your face pressed into the mattress.

“what’s the matter, angel?” he taunted, voice still sweet despite how brutal his hips were. “thought this was what you wanted?”

you sobbed. incoherent. overstimulated.

he leaned over and whispered: “i could’ve been gentle. could’ve kissed you slow, made you cum on my fingers like always. but that ain’t what you like, is it?”

you whimpered, trying to pull away.

he slapped your ass and pinned your hips down.

“nah, don’t run now. take it.”

you came again. violently. messily. your legs gave out and your body shuddered like you’d been struck by lightning.

“fuck,” yunho grunted. “you’re squirting on my cock.”

he sounded proud. “good fucking girl.”

he finally groaned when he came, deep and long, pulling your wrists up as he buried himself to the hilt. your cunt twitched around him, completely spent, wrecked, stretched beyond recognition.

you both breathed heavy.

and then—

his hand slid to your back.

gentle. soft. stroking.

“you okay, angel?”

you nodded, tears still on your cheeks, face flushed.

he kissed your temple, then untied your wrists with careful fingers.

“you were so perfect for me,” he whispered. “did so fucking well.”

you slurred something close to “thank you,” brain foggy from orgasm after orgasm.

he pulled you into his chest, kissing your shoulder. “next time,” he whispered, voice low and teasing, “maybe think twice before calling me soft.”

[pixie-felix]

O V U L A T I N G II

1.7k | smut | chan x ovulating!reader | part one

You’re practically purring as he lays you down on his bed, letting him arrange your body with that pliant, yielding flexibility that only comes after multiple orgasms. He’s fully focused on being gentle now, after seeing how rough Seungmin was being with you. 

Chan winces internally as he spreads your legs for him, seeing how red and swollen you are from all that relentless pounding.

He doesn’t even have to think about it. He just dips his head and puts his mouth on you, lapping at you with the flat of his tongue, soothing your folds as you whimper. Kissing you better. 

Trying not to bust a nut when you tangle your fingers in his hair and whimper his name.

He was worried you might be too tired and overstimulated to take him, but those thoughts evaporate with the way you’re begging for him to be inside you after only a few minutes of him licking you out. He’s so eager to be inside you now, he just might burst. 

But he’s got to take care of you first, gotta make sure you’re not too sore for his cock.

So he gives you a finger, just the one, slipping into you agonisingly slow. When the bump of that first knuckle makes you wince he tries to pull out again, not wanting to hurt you and silently cussing Seungmin out for going too hard on you. 

He is not prepared for you to grab his wrist and pull him closer, both of you crying out– him in surprise, you in pleasure-pain– as you take the digit deep. 

“Babygirl…” His voice is low and tight, barely more than a wheeze as he tries to control himself. “You’re going to hurt yourself…”

“Channie~” 

Oh fuck. 

He can’t resist it when you whine like that. Even less when when you pump your hips desperately, fucking yourself on him. You’re all puffy and swollen inside, clinging to him so tightly he can feel his pulse in his fingertip… 

He nearly nuts imagining how good you would feel around his cock. 

But tight as his pants are, Chan is a considerate lover. And no matter how much you beg for him to hurry up, he’s going to prepare you first.

It’s a good twenty minutes before he’s satisfied that you can take him. Twenty minutes of gentle tonguing and soft fingering– first one, then two, then three as he carefully stretches you out. 

Twenty minutes of Chan ignoring the voices in his head screaming at him just to take you already. 

Twenty minutes of pleasure without release, twenty minutes of begging him to make you cum, twenty minutes of Chan gently reminding you that if he does make you cum now you’ll be too overstimulated to take him properly. That solves your begging, at least for a while. 

You try to be patient. You really do. But Chan is being so careful and so gentle, and making you feel so loved that it’s driving you insane. He’s breaking down all your inhibitions, and in turn you almost break him when you start to beg for something he’s never let himself wish for.

“Channie, breed me.”

He freezes. 

His brain stops. 

His balls almost explode. 

Breed you?

 It’s his ultimate fantasy. His one true weakness. The amount of times he's dreamt about it, about taking you raw and fucking you full of him. Filling you with his seed, again and again, until you're all round and pregnant and pretty with his baby. Babies. 

Fuck, he wants to get you pregnant so badly. He wants to lay in his bed with you in his arms and dick deep inside you, cockwarming you to sleep with his hand on your growing belly. 

And, oh god, you're ovulating. It would take…

And just to be sure it took, he'd give it to you again and again until it did. And then he’d give you more. 

Until his balls were fully drained and the sheets beneath you soaked, a mix of both your juices sticky over your thighs and his belly, his cum leaking from your pounded out pussy. The way you'd whimper when he'd gently finger it back inside you, scooping it up and massaging your clit with it, making you cry with overstimulation just to make you cum again with his seed slicked fingers…

He's having visions of little versions of the both of you running around with the perfect mix of your smile with his dimples when he feels your hand on his dick, the way you’re trying to line him up with you snapping him out of fantasy land.

“Channie, breed me. Please.”

He wants to. 

Oh fuck, he wants to so badly.

But he can’t. 

Not right now. You’re not thinking clearly with your hormone addled, multiple-orgasm-muddled brain. So Chan takes a deep breath, gives himself a shake, and squashes thoughts of knocking you up. For now. 

Instead he gently pulls his fingers out of you, kissing his way up your torso until he’s laying beside you, cuddling you into his chest with one arm while he reaches for the condom box with the other. You whine as he tugs one out, weakly trying to slap it out of his hand. 

If Chan’s dick gets any harder it could cause permanent damage.

“Not yet, baby.” He murmurs softly, gently laying you on your back and kissing the tears off your cheeks. “Not yet. But,” he kisses your lips again, a little harder this time as he rolls on a condom and settles between your thighs, “we can practice.”

He’s not sure which one of you moans louder as he pushes inside you. Even after all of his gentle prep it’s still a tight fit with your pussy already clenching around him as he sinks deeper. He’s trying to go slow, trying to go hold back, but you’re already bucking against him, your vice grip making him hiss.

“Baby, please. You’ve gotta slow down.” He leans his forehead into your shoulder, breathing deeply, concentrating on not busting a nut when you jerk your hips enough that he finally bottoms out. You don’t listen, already a moaning mess as you grind against him with your legs wrapped practically around his waist.

“Channie, please.” He can tell you’re already close from the way you start to beg for it harder and Chan’s not sure how much longer he can resist your pleading as you squeeze your legs tighter around him, using them for leverage as you fuck yourself on his cock. And then you say the magic words again.

“Wreck me Channie. I need you.” 

Your voice is softer this time and he swears his heart stops when you take his face in your hands and kiss him gently, holding him like he’s made of the most delicate glass. It’s a strange and overwhelming dichotomy, this tender kiss among the jerky, desperate thrusting. He’s not even sure who’s doing it now, his body possessed with something feral and completely beyond his control as his hips start to snap.

That gentle kiss quickly morphs into something needier, something matching the wet slapping sounds of skin on skin as he finally gives in and starts giving it to you the way you crave it: harder, rougher, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he pulls you down the bed and lifting your legs over your shoulders.

The noise you make when he finally pins you in that mating press… one day he’ll record it. 

He’ll hide it in the layers of every song, matching it to the bass beat when he remixes Railway. He’ll set it as his alarm, so he’s got something to jerk his morning wood to every day he wakes up alone. He’ll loop it and listen to it on repeat when he’s on tour, driving himself nuts on the way flight back to you, ready to pick you up and fuck you against the nearest surface the moment he gets you alone.

But right now he’s getting it live, in the little wanton gasps escaping from behind the hand you clasped over your mouth. He quickly pulls it away, smothering your moans with his mouth as he starts to pound you harder. 

“This how you wanted it?” He barely recognises his own voice, the words coming out in desperate pants as his hips snap harder, your legs pressing into his shoulders, folding you in half. “Rough? Deep? Wanted to make me fall apart?”

“Don’t want it.” The tears in your eyes make him freeze mid-thrust, terrified he’s pushed you too far. And then you fix it all with just two words. “Want you.”

That does it. All restraint gone, he pounds into you with a few more desperate thrusts before cumming so hard he’s worried it’ll break the condom. And it just doesn’t stop. Not when your orgasm hits too, pussy stuttering and clenching around him and your nails digging into his back, his name a mantra on your tongue as the pleasure drives you mad.

He’s not sure how long you two are lost, writhing against each other like broken snakes, only breaking away from each other for a second when he lowers your legs, needing to feel you closer. Just kissing and moaning each other's names as you wait for the blinding lust to fade.

And when it does… fuck. 

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen–flushed and sweaty and panting, gazing up at him with flushed skin and a kiss bruised mouth. He brushes a few stray tears left on your cheeks, pressing a shaky kiss to your forehead and wondering how it’s possible to love someone so much.

The condom didn’t break, thankfully. Though his dick twitches when he sees your disappointed pout. 

“You really weren’t kidding about the breeding thing, huh.” He murmurs, pulling you into his chest for a cuddle. You murmur something, but it’s too faint for him to hear as your breathing smoothes out into sleep.

He lies awake for a long time after, just watching you sleep. All safe and snug in his arms, satiated and satisfied. For now at least.

Ovulation really is no joke.

I hate this 😅 but it's been sitting in my drafts and no matter what I do to it I can't make it better. You can see what I mean about the tonal shift from part one right? Urgh Sorry gang, it's the best I could do rn.

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[y0inked]

RED

red kryptonite!clark kent x fem!reader

[kryptonite series]

cw: 18+ MDNI ; mentions of red kryptonite. oral (f. recieving), unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it, y'all), dacryphilia, overstimulation.

It was just a freebie. A dusty little bullet-shaped lipstick tube from a woman selling woven bracelets and handmade candles.

“Try it,” she said. “It’ll change everything.”

You laugh it off. Put it on before your date with Clark, because it’s a fun, deep red — and it made your lips tingle a little. You don’t expect him to freeze when you kiss him. You definitely don’t expect him to stagger back like he’s been hit. Eyes wide. Chest heaving.

“C-Clark?”

“What… what did you just do to me?”

He’s quiet at first. Too quiet.You try to brush it off — maybe he’s tired, maybe he’s just flustered — but then he laughs.

Not his normal laugh.Not the soft, awkward, “aw shucks” chuckle you know.No — this one’s deeper. Confident. Sinister, even.

“That was new,” he murmurs, “And I liked it. A lot.”

He grabs your wrist — gently, but firm — and pulls you in again.Kisses you so deeply you forget your own name for a second.

“You’ve got no idea what you just unlocked, do you?”

His jacket hits the floor. His shirt next. You try to ask him what’s wrong — why he’s acting like this — but his hands are already sliding under your thighs, lifting you like you weigh nothing. He leans in, and you swear the air sizzles.

“All this time,” he says, brushing that lipstick-stained thumb over your lip. “Holding back. Being careful.You have no idea what it’s like, pretending I don’t want you every second of the day.”

He sets you down on the counter, kissing down your neck. You can feel his breath shake.

“I could hear you, y’know. Every time you touched yourself and whispered my name. I wanted to come through your window and make you scream it.”

This Clark doesn’t stutter. He doesn’t ask for permission — not because he’s cruel, but because he knows you want it.

He doesn’t hold back. And when you whisper that you think something’s wrong? He grins — wide. Sinful.

“No, baby. For the first time ever… everything feels right.”

He’s not shy. Not gentle. Not the blushing boy who asks permission before kissing you. No, this Clark has heat in his eyes and a smirk that spells danger.

He pushes you down on the counter like you’re the helpless human here. Rips your clothes off in a blur — you barely register it before you’re bare under his hungry gaze.

“Been thinkin’ about this all day,” he says, dropping to his knees between your thighs, spreading you open like a feast.

“You think I don’t hear it? The way your heart races when I walk into the room?”

Then he dives in. No teasing. No warm-up. Just his mouth — hot, wet, starving — latching onto your clit like he wants to ruin you. His tongue moves fast, precise, almost inhuman. You’re already crying out, back arching, hips twitching —He just grabs your thighs and holds you down.

“No running, sweetheart. You take it.”

He’ll use that Kryptonian strength to pin you in place while his tongue wrecks you. Sucking, licking, fucking you with his mouth until you're gasping, eyes rolling, clawing at the sheets. “Clark—too much—”

He chuckles darkly against your soaked pussy.

“Too much? We haven’t even started.” Then he slides a finger in. Then two. His tongue never stops. He’ll talk into your cunt between sucks.

“Bet no one’s ever made you come like this. Bet you’ll think about this every time you try to touch yourself.”

“Mine now. Say it.”

And when you do say it — when you sob out “I’m yours, Clark!” while you come on his face for the first time, he moans like he just tasted heaven.

He doesn’t stop until your legs are shaking, your voice is gone, and your brain is mush.And even then?He climbs up over you, licks his lips, and says,

“Ready for the real fun, baby?”

Your thighs are shaking.

Your chest is heaving like you just ran a goddamn marathon, and there are tears slipping from the corners of your eyes, soaking the pillow beneath your head. But Clark doesn’t stop.

He won’t stop.

His tongue is still lapping at your clit, slow now, but maddeningly precise — circling that oversensitive little bundle of nerves like he’s got nowhere else to be and all night to wreck you.

You whimper, tug at his hair.

“Clark—too much—can’t—please—”

But he growls into your cunt, lips shiny with your slick, voice rough.

“Oh, yes you can. I haven’t even hit double digits yet, baby. You’re gonna take it.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you — face flooded with smug hunger, pupils blown wide, a single strand of spit connecting his mouth to your clit.

“Look at you. All fucked out already? That was what, four? Five?” He chuckles. “Amateur numbers.”

And then he spits — right on your swollen, throbbing pussy — and dives back in like a man with a fucking death wish.

Your hips try to jerk away.

He holds you down with one hand — big and heavy on your belly, keeping you pinned to the counter like a butterfly under glass.

“Don’t run from me, sweetheart. Be good. Let me break you.”

Your back arches when he moans into you, tongue flicking fast-fast-fast, and when you come again, it hits like a fucking explosion — legs locking up, nails scratching at the sheets, sobbing so loud your voice cracks.

You’re twitching. Gasping. Done.

But Clark?

He doesn’t stop.

He fucks you through it with his tongue, greedily, rhythmically — like your orgasm is just foreplay to him.

“That’s it. Ride my face. Fucking drown me.”

You can barely think. Barely speak.

And that’s when he finally pulls back, his face drenched, lips pink and swollen and gleaming with you. He’s panting, flushed, so fucking hard under his jeans it looks painful.

“Still think I’m gonna stop?” He kisses your inner thigh, then the other, voice dipping into something dark and hungry. “Not until you pass out, baby. Maybe not even then.”

He crawls up your body — eyes locked on yours, watching the way you tremble beneath him — and lines his cock up with your twitching entrance.

You’re soaked. Wrecked. Still clenching from the last orgasm.

“One more,” he murmurs. “Just one.”

(He's lying.)

He thrusts in deep, and you scream. The stretch, the fullness — it’s too much. It’s everything. And he starts to fuck you slow, deliberately, making you feel every inch of it.

“You’re mine now,” he breathes against your ear, fucking you into the counter. “You think anyone else can make you come like that? Think anyone else even knows what this pussy needs?”

You sob his name. You beg. You claw at his back.

And when he starts rubbing your clit again with those Kryptonian fingers, perfect and brutal and fast—

You shatter.

Again.

And again.

And again.

You lose count.

He doesn’t.

a/n: not entirely sure what other kryptonites do? i googled it but idrk how they can be used in spicy scenarios. if y'all know how it can be used, could y'all send in requests with that??

[sydwritess]

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

Charles leclerc x fem!reader

Summary: You were always insecure, some days to the point where you can't even look in the mirror. One day, when you and Charles were at an after-party, someone had said something, something that made your night a living hell.

Second Person POV

Warning: swearing, big insecurities, suicide thoughts

Notes: requests are open!

All your life, you were told you had to look a certain way. Fit, skinny, pretty, you name it. But one thing that wasn't aloud for you was 'ugly.'

You thought you always had to stay pretty. But when you met Charles, he taught you that pretty was in all different forms.

But it's like your body didn't accept that. Didn't want to accept it.

Look in the mirror. Don't look in the mirror.

Step on the scale. Don't cry when you see the numbers.

Go to therapy. They don't know what their talking about.

Eat three meals a day. Stop eating, and you look fat.

Loose your weight fast. You need to stop throwing up.

Go for a run. Stop being tired.

Don't give up. Give up and admit your big.

Wear makeup. You look like your trying to hard.

All of it comes spinning down around you like a hurricane in the Florida Keys. Thundering and lightening words around you stuck in your head. Not leaving until you scream your way out.

Scream and scream and scream until you are heard. Until you are acknowledged. Until the people around you feel guilty for what they have done. What they have said

Spiraling. Spiraling alone, but your not alone.

You were in a club full of people, celebrating Lando's big British Grand Prix win. Charles wasn't by your side.

You were at the bar while he was talking to Lando. Your thoughts spiraling as you look around the room.

Tight dresses.

Heavy makeup.

High heels.

Red lips.

Skinny figures.

Fancy suits.

Hair done perfectly.

Everything but you. All of it, not on you. You wish and hoped. But you didn't fit the part. Today was one of the worst days for you. You didn't even feel like getting out of bed, but you did it for Charles.

The bartender walks up to you, pouring you another glass of wine. "Ma'am, are you okay?" She asks. You could see the worry behind her eyes.

You look at her. Silently. "Yeah, just... thinking." She nods her head and smiles, walking down the bar to tend to other customers.

You see two girls to the side of you looking at you. You look down at the drink your were holding in your hands. Then you hear them laugh.

Not today. Just not today. It was already the worst day for you this week.

"Charles isn't with her because he's embarrassed of her." The blonde snickers.

"I would be too. Looking like that... I feel bad for him." The brunette says.

"If I ever looked that ugly, I'd ask for someone to shoot me." The blonde says. They both laugh and walk away from the bar.

Tears were filling in your eyes. Little did they know... some days you really wished you were dead. And that made it worse.

"Hey, sorry, Lando and I got caught up." Charles said, sitting next to you.

You didn't move. Didn't look at him. Didn't breathe. It wasn't until then. That hand. That single, loving hand that made you feel everything was placed on your back.

You shrug it off, slowly getting out of your seat and walking straight to the bathrooms. You lock the door behind you, your fists white, leaning you against the counter as you look down to the floor.

Don't cry.

Don't open your eyes.

Don't move.

Don't. Look in the mirror.

But it happened. The tears were flowing down your checks. The voice's echoing in your head. That voice.

And you did it. You looked in the mirror. You started sobbing. Trying to maintain your cries by putting a hand over your mouth, but you couldn't.

You hear a light knock on the door. "Mon amour, what happened?" You hear the deep voice say. It was the person you didn't want it to be the most. You don't answer.

"Chèrie. Please open the door." He says. You slide down against the wall onto the floor, covering your face so he wouldn't hear your cries for help.

His voice was low. "I don't know she won't open the door." Charles says, talking to someone.

"Y/n, please open the door." Charles pleads. You're still silent. Then, the door opens quickly. Charles walks in, shutting the door behind him before rushing down by your side.

"Your okay. I've got you Mon amour. I've got you." He says. He pulls you into a hug, embracing you tightly against him. All you do is cry.

"Chérie what happened?" He asks. You cry, not being able to find the words.

"I don't know how you can love someone like me." You choke.

"Mon amour, what do you mean? I love you so much."

"I just don't get it. Your here- Your here surrounded by all of these people. Surrounded by all of these beautiful girls." You say, pausing your words. "And you still go back to me?" You ask.

"It's not about if I want you. I love you. I don't want just anybody Chérie. I love you so much you don't understand. And I may be surrounded by them, but I know who they are. They're just here for one night, and they won't even remember it the next morning. They are nothing compared to you." He says.

"Please, why is this all of a sudden? I thought you were doing well today."

"I can't."

"Please." He begs. "Please, if this was caused by someone, then we have to do something." He says. You sit there in silence. Your mind is moving too fast for your body to keep up. You feel your body start to get heavier, falling more into Charles.

"Hey, hey, are you okay?" He asks. You nod your head weakly.

"No, what's going on?" He asks, pulling away from you, holding your shoulders tightly. You can't look at him. Your vision going in and out.

"Did- did you eat today?" He asks suddenly. You don't say a thing. "I'll take that as a no." He gently lays you flat on the floor.

"Shit, hang on." He says. He opens the bathroom door and walks out. It takes him a minute before he quickly walks back in, Lewis was straight behind him.

"We need a cold towel." Lewis says. You close your eyes, the pain and tiredness flowing through your blood.

You feel a hand run through your hair. Charles's hand.

"I'd suggest taking her home. She's not well." Lewis says, pressing the cold cloth to your forehead.

"Do you mind grabbing a drink for her? I don't care- whatever's down there, please." Charles says.

"Yeah, I'll be right back." Lewis says. He gets up from next to you and walks out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"Y/n." Charles says slowly, running his hand through your hair. "Why would you do this to yourself?" His eyes were watery.

"I'm sorry." You say, your tears falling once again. "I'm really sorry."

"You've never been this bad before. I just want to know what's going on so I can help." He says. Suddenly Lewis walks in with a couple of glasses of water.

"Text me if you guys need anything else. I'll be still be here." He says

"Thanks, man." Charles says. He nods his head before walking out, shutting the door again.

You try to sit up but your body wasn't fully there yet.

"Hey, lay down for now. I've got you." He says, gently pushing you back down. You lay back in silence, staring at the ceiling above you.

Charles gently smooths your hair back with his hand. Your tears continue spilling over the edge, working up more and more at the thought of today.

"There were these girls at the bar." You choke out. Charles nods at what you say, making sure you know he's listening. "And they were saying some things."

"What things Chérie?" He asks gently.

"Like..." You trail off, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before opening them again. "Like how you weren't next to me because you were embarrassed of me. And..."

"And they said that - that if they looked like me, they'd want to be dead." You say slowly, your voice cracking on each word like it was thin ice. You couldn't even look him in the eyes anymore.

"Oh, Mon Amour... I'm so sorry I was not there." He paused. "I love you so much. I was just away from you because I was talking to Lando. I am never embarrassed of you."

"I know."

"Did you ever feel that way before? About... dying." He asks. You slowly nod, feeling ashamed.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't want you to see me that way. I didn't want you to see me like... I don't know." You say.

He sighs, running his hand through your hair still. "Can I tell you something?" He asks, you nod.

"When my brother was in school, he got bullied badly. Sometimes, to the point where he would skip school and say he was sick. One day, when I got home from practice, I found him passed out in his room and called the police and my family, and they took him to the hospital. And after that we stayed with him for a good month. I was the one staying there day and night because I was scared he would do it again." He took a shaky breath.

"I don't want that to happen to you. What I found out that day... it took a piece of me away. And I don't want you to go through that. I don't want that to happen to you." He says, pausing, sitting still. "Or else I would seriously have to kill someone." He says, smiling slightly.

"I'm sorry." You say through tears. He gently grabs your hands, pulling you up so your sit up against the wall. You hug him tightly. "I tried to get better." You choke out.

"It takes time to get better. I understand that. We can get through this together, you don't have to do this alone." He says gently, rubbing your back.

"You shouldn't have to put up with this. You've got to much going on."

"I'm not putting up with it. I'm helping you. I would never think of it as 'putting up with it.' And my life can wait if it means seeing you happy at the end of the day." He pauses, pulling away from you, looking you in the eyes. "You are not some burden in my life. And if you need a reason than I will give you millions."

He pauses, letting out a breath. You sit in silence.

"You are so caring towards everybody. You may not see it but you give everyone a chance... some may not deserve it, but you give them it. You are the most beautiful person in the world, you may not see it now but you are. When you question yourself and compare yourself to other girls, it breaks me to see you doubting yourself all the time. You are the most beautiful girl in the room, outside of the room, in the world and you should act like it. Those other girls don't even know the half of the beauty you have within you. And, seriously... I don't know how you do it but you putting up with me and my friends... that takes some real courage right there because I can tell you want to leave the room some days because of our dumbasses."

You laugh slightly, your smile breaking through.

"And let's talk about forgiving. How many times have I messed up or how many times have I done something wrong but you still stayed. You still stayed with me and forgave me for what I did. How many times have I not noticed or not paid attention to what you were going through or what was upsetting you but you were still there for me. You still stayed with me, pushing your problems aside for me when I should have been there for you. I mean it when I say that I would do anything for you. I would pause everything I would got going on if it means helping you and getting you on your feet. I would cancel every race for you. Every meeting for you. You are the most important person in my life. I could never just sit around and watch you struggle by yourself if I was there. When I tell you that I will help you, I will. because I love you and I would not loose you." The room goes silent. Looking into each other's eyes.

"Real-"

"Really. I love you so much mon ange. I don't want to loose you."

"I promise I'll get better." You whisper.

"You don't have to promise anything, we will work together to get through this."

You nod your head. Charles stands up and reaches his hand's down to you. You grab them lightly and pull yourself up. He intertwines your left hand with his and opens the door up, but you stand still.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't go out there."

He holds your hand tighter. "It's okay, we can go out behind the building, no one will be there."

You nod your head a little bit and he guides you out of the room and down a hallway towards the back of the building. It was a quiet hallway, no one around, you came to around that Charles opened and you walk outside. The cool air felt refreshing on your skin.

"Where are we going?" You ask quietly.

He stops in his tracks, making you bump into him. "We." He hold ups your intertwined hands. "Are going to Olive Garden. Since it's like the only place open." He smirks.

He continues walking with you until you see his car parked out front. "We can't eat this late." You giggle, tapping on your watch that says:

9:00 P.M.

"Oh yes we can. And we will. I will order everything on the menu for you." He smirks, opening the passenger side door for you. You laugh as he runs around the front of the car, quickly getting in.

"I'd probably throw up from everything on the menu." You joke.

"If you do that... I will count it as a good way to start this journey together." He says lowly, with a smile. He grabs your hand and starts driving off away from the club. In the littlest way... reminding you he loves you.

©sydwritess

Hey loves! Bit of a sad one (blame me... feeling emotional lmao) but I hope you like it! Requests are open!

[linaslore]

— s.h. | i'm seeing visions, am i bad? or mad? or wise? [part 1]

steve harrington x f!reader.

summary: you're having a movie night with the whole party at your house and you can't help noticing steve is acting different towards you.

author's note: you can't imagine how many times i wrote, deleted and rewrote this piece. at first, i was going to post it as a one-shot, but as i was working on it i realized it might be best to divide it in different parts and i really wanted to know if you liked it, so here it is...

warnings: mentions of death, violence, and blood (Starcourt battle & season 4 ending descriptions), some details might not be 100% accurate; language; descriptions of a horror movie; english is not my first language.

credits to the pics' owners.

🚫please do NOT copy, translate or put my work through an AI.

You woke up with the sun peeking through your bedroom curtains, its bright rays landing directly on your face. You glanced at the clock on your nightstand: 7.24 a.m. You huffed to yourself. 

Waking up this early should be illegal. 

You sat up on the bed and stared into space, giving your brain a couple of extra minutes to start functioning properly.

Today was a special date: it marked one year since the gates to the Upside Down had been forever sealed, dragging Vecna and the rest of its terrifying creatures into the void with it. 

You sighed, thinking back on how you got tangled into that whole mess in the first place. 

Your parents had always insisted you take up a hobby so you would stay active and socialize with other people rather than spending your free time at home with your nose buried in books. Most girls your age were into roller-blading, dancing, or cheerleading, but you decided to go for something different: archery.

During the first lessons, your attempts to shoot with the bow and arrows were a complete disaster. It almost made you quit, being ‘little miss perfectionist’ as Luke, your older brother, often teased you, but a stronger voice inside of you told you not to give up. 

The confidence you felt when you held the bow in your hands and the rush of adrenaline that coursed through your body when you saw the arrow fly into the distance were your motivation to keep going until you became one of the best students. And you loved every second of it. 

And then, one day, your mostly ordinary life flipped upside down (pun intended). 

After one of your lessons, you went to Scoops Ahoy to get some ice cream. It was a warm day and you were craving something sweet. The fact that the guy who scooped the ice cream was very cute was also a bonus. You remembered Steve from seeing him in the school hallways, but you had never talked to him. He was one of the popular ones and unfortunately, a douchebag, so you had kept your distance.

At one point, while you were about to finish the 6th chapter of your book, the power went off at the Mall. You stayed frozen in your seat.

Some guys dressed in black with revolvers in their hands started filling the food court. You took a deep breath and sneaked out to the nearest bathroom before anyone could see you.

Your hands trembled as you slid down against the cold tiled wall of one of the stalls, your heart beat furiously. You hugged your bow and stash of arrows close to your chest. 

What the hell is happening?

You forced yourself to take slow, deep breaths and tried to hear anything beyond the pounding of your pulse. There were muffled sounds, objects being tossed, footsteps moving hastily, but nothing concrete. 

Your mind raced through the possibilities to escape the situation: you could stay hidden until things calmed down or you could find a way to get out without being discovered. The latter seemed the most difficult since you had counted at least six armed men. You took one last deep breath and closed your eyes, deciding to wait it all out.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you heard something that sent a hundred chills down your spine. 

A girl’s scream. 

You swallowed hard, every muscle in your body tensed with fear. 

What if those men were harming that girl?

Suddenly, staying hidden felt like the wrong choice.

You clenched your jaw, gripping your bow tighter as you got up from the floor. You adjusted the stash of arrows over your shoulders and stepped out of the bathroom.

No amount of horror movies and science fiction books could have prepared you for what you saw when you arrived at the food court.

There was a massive creature with long limbs, skin raw and fleshy, which was emitting distorted cries that sounded animal-like, yet completely alien.

You also saw some kids and people your age throwing explosives at it. Among them were Steve and his Scoops Ahoy coworker.

You silenced the part of your brain that urged you to get the hell out of there and steadied your bow, assessing the best shot at the creature. You didn’t know why, but you knew you had to help. Your fingers wrapped around the string, pulling it back as you lined up the shot. You took a deep breath and released the arrow. 

You watched as it soared through the air and landed on the creature’s head. It let out an ear-piercing cry while its limbs moved around violently. It wasn’t enough to kill it, but at least you slowed it down a bit.

Faces turned toward the source of the arrow; some filled with shock, others broke into smiles. And there they found you. Your own face was stained with fear, but you gave them a reassuring nod before racing through the court to find the girl.

When you finally spotted her, your stomach churned. She was being dragged by her leg across the floor by a curly-haired blond man, his skin slick with blackish goo. He loomed over her, his hands closing tightly around her throat and she fought with whatever ounce of strength she had left to free herself. 

Just as you were about to release another arrow, this time at the guy’s shoulder, you noticed the girl began talking to him. You couldn’t make out what she was saying, but it seemed to calm the guy down. His grip slowly loosened. He started crying and then he finally retreated from the girl’s body, as if he was waking up from a nightmare.

The rest of the events unfolded in a blur.

The guy, Billy, as you’d later learn, stood between the girl and the monster to shield her from another attack. The creature seemed not to like that and one of its many limbs lashed forward, piercing straight through Billy’s chest. His body collapsed onto the ground, blood spilling from his mouth. A red-haired girl screamed his name.

Then, out of nowhere, the monster began convulsing frantically, its grotesque shape turned and twisted until it finally dropped dead on the floor. 

Everyone slowly gathered around Billy’s lifeless body. The red-haired girl fell to her knees beside him and her hands gripped his bloodied frame as she cried her eyes out.

That was your first encounter with the Upside Down. 

Sadly, it wouldn’t be your last. 

The party didn’t hesitate to make room for you in their group. The kids were greatly impressed by your skills with the bow. They even gave you ‘a cool nickname’: the Archer. They even tried countless times to teach you how to play D&D, but nothing good came out of it.

Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin welcomed you with open arms as well. Steve, however, took a little longer to warm up. At first, he wasn’t thrilled about the attention you stole from the younger members, especially from Dustin. But after a lot of teasing from Robin about his unjustified, childish jealousy, he finally let it go and started seeing you the way the others did: nice, funny, and brave. And, despite not admitting this to anyone, he couldn’t deny how pretty you were.

Later came Vecna’s reign of terror. It was unlike any other monster you had imagined. He was something far more dangerous, a predator who didn’t just kill but consumed his victims, leaving nothing but broken bones and shattered souls.

In the end, all of you fought tooth and nail to destroy him and the Upside Down for good. Eleven reclaimed her powers, Hopper clawed his way out of the Russians' grip, and you even had another heroine moment: this time your archery skills came in handy to save Steve and Eddie from the demobats’ attack. 

But most importantly, you were able to save Max’s life. The road to recovery would be long but you had no doubt that she would get through it all with all of your love and support.

Deciding that your trip through memory lane was over, you got up from your bed and prepared to go to work. 

To no one’s surprise, you landed a job at the same archery school you had attended. You helped Veronica, your former instructor and now boss, with teaching kids and teenagers how to use the bow. And no, don’t worry, the little kids only got plastic bows and arrows.

You slid into your uniform: a black skort and a red polo shirt with the academy’s logo sewn on the right side of your chest. You also applied a light layer of mascara on your eyelashes. Not much though, just enough to conceal the sleepiness in your eyes. 

You headed downstairs to get something for breakfast. You weren’t very hungry this morning, so you just made yourself a cup of coffee to go. You grabbed your lunchbox packed with last night’s leftovers and placed it inside your backpack. Once you made sure you had your wallet, keys, and your walkman, you slid your bag on your shoulders and went to the garage to hop on your bike and leave.

The streets of Hawkins were quiet, given that it was a Saturday. Most days, the town hummed with people rushing to get to work or with parents running to take their kids to school on time, but today there was hardly any traffic, so you arrived quickly.

Your first lesson began in half an hour, so you took advantage of this extra time to prepare the classroom to welcome your students. You opened the windows, letting the chilly morning air in; swept the floors; and gathered everything needed for today’s routine. 

The first groups of the day were teenagers, so you grabbed yoga mats and weights, knowing they enjoyed mixing archery practice with cardio and strength exercises. Well, in fact, most of the time.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. You glanced up and saw the first student peeking into the classroom. It was clear you shouldn’t have favorites, but there he was. 

“Good morning!" Dustin greeted you, stretching his arms lazily. "Hope you’re not planning on killing us today." You shot him an apologetic smile as you gestured towards the mats and weights ready to be used. He cursed to himself, feeling defeated. “You know, if I pass out, you’re carrying me home.”

With an exaggerated sigh, he sank onto a mat and waited for the others to arrive. You just shook your head with a smirk on your face as you filled your water bottle.

The morning shift went by pretty quickly between warm-ups, drills, correcting your students’ postures, and lots of groans about sore limbs.

You had a one-hour lunch break, so you decided to pay a visit to your favorite people in the world: Robin and Steve. Another great thing about your job was that it was a couple of blocks away from Family Video, their workplace.

When you arrived, Robin was busy helping a customer at the front desk, so you let your eyes wander around the room to find Steve. You spotted him at the back, stacking movies into their proper shelves. He didn’t notice your presence since his back was facing you and he also had his walkman headphones on. He was too focused on humming whatever song he was listening to.

The Scoops Ahoy uniform was hard to top… for many reasons, but you had to admit that this new one did suit him. Too well, actually. The way the striped short-sleeved shirt hugged his biceps made your insides tickle. And the green vest… Not helping either.

You forced yourself to look elsewhere, realizing you had started to feel hungry, but not the ‘I-need-to-get-food’ kinda hungry.

Y/N, seriously? Get it together. He’s your friend.

Steve shifted to get another pile of movies and saw a pair of feet standing near him. He looked up and his eyes found yours.

“Oh, hey, Y/N.” He said, pulling his headphones off and smirking at you. “How long have you been staring at me in silence, you creep?”

“Ugh, shut up. I just got here.” You huffed, rolling your eyes, and turned around towards Robin, who was now done with the customer.

Steve remained crouched on the floor to continue with his task, but for a second, his gaze drifted by accident from the VHS tapes to your legs, which were barely covered by the skort. He bit his lower lip absentmindedly. 

You were completely oblivious to this since you weren’t facing Steve, but Robin… She caught him right in the act and subtly motioned for him to wipe the drool off his face. 

Steve, ever the picture of grace, showed her his middle finger in response.

“Are you guys ready for our movie night?” You asked, still unaware of the silent bicker between your two friends.

Sliding into one of the stools behind the front desk, you grabbed your lunch from your bag, a simple chicken salad, and started eating.

“Yeah…” Steve replied, approaching the two of you now that he was done. “I’ll bring the food and Eddie’s in charge of the drinks.”

“Awesome!” You turned to Robin. “What movie have you picked?”

“This one.” She shows a VHS box with the words Dead in the Water written on it. “It’s a horror movie.”

“Oh, no Robs. Not a horror movie. The kids are coming too and…” You started, shaking your head, but Robin cut you off.

“Y/N… ‘The kids’ are a bunch of 17-year-olds who have been fighting supernatural creatures since they were 12. I doubt they’re going to lose any sleep over some silly horror movie.”

You rolled your eyes as you rose from your seat to head to the Animated Films section. You looked around all the options on the shelves and ended up picking your favorite one.

“Just in case, I’m taking The Jungle Book too.”

Robin rolled her eyes back at you and Steve leaned against the counter watching with an amused glint the way you slowly placed your choice alongside Robin’s. He couldn’t help finding your genuine concern for ‘the kids’ cute.

You went back to eating your salad, trying not to think too much about the way Steve was looking at you.

Later in the afternoon, you rushed home to get everything ready for movie night.

This tradition started a couple of months ago: all of you would get together at one of your houses one Saturday night a month to watch movies and eat tons of snacks. Tonight it was your turn to be the host since your parents had gone on a little weekend trip, so you had the house to yourself until Sunday evening. 

You arranged the couch, armchairs, and bean bags to make sure there were enough seats for everyone. You even carefully placed several cushions in one of the armchairs for Max to sit there comfortably.

You then continued preparing some bowls with candies, chocolates and popcorn.

Finally, you took out some plastic cups and napkins and put them carefully on the coffee table in front of the TV. You also brought some blankets from your bedroom in case anyone got cold.

Once everything was in place, you went to the upstairs bathroom to shower and change into more comfortable clothes, a black top and your matching pyjama shorts. Despite the warm spring weather you had during the day, the nights were getting cooler, so you threw on a grey oversized sweater that draped just past the hem of your shorts.

At 7 o’clock, you heard the doorbell ring. Right on time, you thought to yourself as you headed to the front door. 

“Well, hello, hello!” You greeted your friends with a smile and gestured for them to step inside. The fact that their excitement matched yours made your heart flutter.

Steve helped Lucas settle Max into her designated seat and you double-checked with her if she needed more cushions. She assured you she didn’t, so you pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head and then went towards the kitchen. A small smile appeared on your lips because of how much better she was doing, despite the casts and crutches.

Steve and Robin followed you. Robin took care of serving some of the drinks, while Steve and you arranged the food into bowls and plates. Back in the living room, Jonathan was setting up the movie on the TV.

You opened the top cabinet of the cupboard to get some extra bowls, but they were far from your reach, even if you stood on your tiptoes. 

“Steve, would you mind getting those bowls for me?” You motioned him with your index finger.

“Yeah, of course… shorty” He approached you with his familiar teasing grin, to which you replied with an eyeroll.

You were about to make some room for him, but he came from behind you and placed his hand on the right side of your waist to steady himself. He raised on his tiptoes to grab the bowls and put them on the counter.

You were still frozen in your place, not only because of his actual hand, but also from the jolt of electricity you felt when his skin made contact with yours. 

Steve shut the cabinet and slowly pulled his hand away from your body. His eyes betrayed him for the second time that day and darted towards your outfit, more specifically to the lack of fabric covering your legs. 

He felt a knot forming in his stomach. Those damn bare legs again. 

Before any other wild thought could cross his mind, he took the bowls that were already full of food and brought them to the living room.

You let out a short laugh, comign out of your stupor. What the heck just happened?

If you hadn't known better, you’d have sworn that Steve had just checked you out. 

You weren’t a stranger to sharing physical contact with your friends; it was one of your strongest love languages, actually. Whether it was a quick peck on the cheeks or forehead, a pat on the back, a slight bump on the shoulder, hands intertwined for reassurance, or a lingering hug, you found yourself enjoying those shared moments of comfort. 

But this… this was new, unexplored territory.

“Y/N, are you done?” You heard Dustin yell from the living room.

“In a minute!” You replied, grabbing the remaining bowls and plates.

It probably meant nothing, right? 

You shook your head to stop yourself from analyzing this further and went to the living room to meet your friends.

Once the table and the movie were set, all of you sat in your usual positions: the kids and Eddie on the bean bags or the blanket on the floor, Nancy and Jonathan cuddled together on the remaining armchair and Robin, Steve and you on the big sofa.

Conversations bubbled up as the snacks and pizza were passed around and the hum of laughter filled the room. 

“So, what’s the movie about anyway?” Nancy asked while she curiously looked at the cover of the VHS tape.

“It’s about a group of friends who stay at a cabin near a lake for the weekend…” Eddie started explaining. “They find a strange old book with texts written in Latin, and the dumbasses read them out loud and then they start dying.... one…by…one.” He dragged the last words to create some kind of suspense.

His dramatic delivery earned a few chuckles, but the kids were fully hooked. They were in that phase in adolescence where they demanded to do adult stuff because ‘they were older now’.

Lucas nudged Max playfully, asking her if she was ready to get scared. She rolled her eyes and gave him an “Oh please” look. Mike let out a yawn as he wrapped an arm around El’s shoulders while Dustin and Will went for another slice of pizza.

“Trust me” Steve said while settling more comfortably on the corner of the couch. “You’re gonna beg us to sleep with the lights on after this.” He shot the younger members a knowing look and you let out a laugh. 

“That’s why I brought this…” You leaned over Steve, reaching for the copy of The Jungle Book that was tucked away on the end table. The scent of his cologne momentarily filled your senses and your heart skipped a beat. It smelled like cedarwood and clove, mixed with clean cotton. You also got a sniff of his signature Farrah Fawcett hairspray. This combination was unexpectedly comforting. You quickly came back to reality before anyone noticed your lingering moment.  

“How old do you think we are?” Dustin threw you an indignant look. “Do you think we need a kid’s movie to lullaby us to sleep?”

“I don’t know, man, but that Bear Necessities song is oddly soothing." Eddie replied, without actually thinking about what came out of his mouth and everyone crackled into a loud laugh.

“Well, enough child’s play. I wanna see some violent deaths” Robin stated, taking the remote control in her hands and pressed the play button.

The playful banter faded as the opening scene flickered onto the screen. The eerie atmosphere settled in as the haunting background music came through the speakers.

You decided to grab another slice of pizza. Not that you were still hungry, but to have something else to focus your attention on. If you were being 100% honest, you weren’t the biggest horror movie fan; you hated them, actually, but you had to play the part. You had faced actual nightmares before: the Mind Flyer, the demobats, demodogs, and Vecna himself. A mere horror movie should be nothing for The Archer.

On screen, the characters had already arrived at the cabin and were complaining about how run-down everything looked. One of the guys mentioned it was better than he had anticipated, given the little amount of money he'd paid for the stay.

“Ah yeah, the ‘you’re about to die’ special discount.” Eddie joked and you all laughed again despite the creepy scene unfolding. The characters found the book and they started reading these Latin chants. Then a faint creak was heard, one after the other. Suddenly, a grotesque, possessed figure lunged into view, its milky-white eyes locked onto one of the male character's eyes and disappeared into thin air. 

“What the hell was that?” The male character asked.

“You’re joking, right?” The girl said, rolling her eyes.

“No, guys, I swear I saw something.”

“Why don’t we split up?” The other guy suggested. “It’s probably just his imagination.”

“Sure, splitting up has always worked out great.” Dustin groaned at the cliché.

You really wanted to laugh at Dustin’s comment just like everyone else did, but then on-screen, the ghostly creature appeared out of nowhere in front of one of the girls and dragged her by the legs up to the lake and drowned her there. Everyone tensed up in their places at the characters’ screams. 

Steve, being next to you, felt how your body flinched involuntarily and he shot a quick look in your direction. He caught your disturbed expression and how you lifted the blanket over your body as a way of protecting yourself.

You obviously weren’t the only one affected by all this. He also noticed Max and Lucas leaning closer together, El clutching Mike’s arm a little tighter, Robin covering her mouth in shock. 

Without giving it much thought, his hand reached out to yours beneath the blankets and you accepted it gladly. His fingers wrapped gently around yours, his grip was warm and comforting. 

You slightly turned your face towards him and gave him a silent ‘thank you’, to which he winked in return and then looked ahead, focusing on the TV again. You managed to catch a flicker of something in his expression. Amusement? Maybe. But also, there was something else, something softer.

You tried redirecting your attention to the movie, but your thoughts somehow kept drifting back to Steve. 

What’s gotten into him?

Your relationship has always been friendly. Sure, he’d tossed a few flirty comments your way, but they had never meant anything; they were all part of the whole King Steve charm. 

And besides, it wasn’t long ago that he was still giving Nancy those puppy-eye looks. You even overheard him tell her how he saw himself in a few years, with a wife and kids, and from the way he said it, it was obvious that he wanted to have all that with her. 

So… whatever this was, it probably was just meaningless...

Your train of thoughts was interrupted with a piercing cry coming from the TV. One of the female characters started acting strange, her voice twisted into something unnatural. Then, without any warnings, she started levitating off the floor, her eyes turning completely white. She let out a guttural demonic laugh before lunging at the group. 

This sudden movement was enough to make everyone, including some of the grown-ups, jump in horror. You unconsciously leaned closer to Steve. Dustin let out a nervous laugh, trying to play it cool.

“Okay, that was actually creepy.” Lucas muttered, turning towards your direction.

Steve smirked and threw him a “I told you” look.

“Ohhh I have a feeling that things are going to get a lot messier.” Eddie commented on the edge of his seat, both literally and figuratively.

The minutes continued passing by and you were eagerly wishing this movie would end sooner. The possessed girl kept appearing out of nowhere and murdered anyone that dared to stand in her way.

The final horrifying scenes flickered on the screen: the last character alive dropped to his knees, exhausted. The cabin around him was in ruins, drenched in blood and chaos. Just as he thought it was over, the evil force surged toward him, crashing through doors, shattering glass. 

You caught Steve running a hand through his hair, something he did when he was nervous. You would have teased him if you weren’t trapped in your own suffering.

The guy in the film screamed, his face twisted in pure terror as the camera raced forward and then… Darkness. Silence. The credits rolled, and the whole group let out a breath none of them realized they were holding.

“Can we play The Jungle Book now?” El asked softly, breaking the silence. The room erupted in a soft laugh.

“Gladly, my dear.” You stood up from the couch, letting go of Steve’s hand, much to your dismay, and swapped out the movie in the VHS player. After pressing the play button, you returned to your original spot. 

You pulled the blankets closer to your body since you were starting to shiver, partly because of the cold, but also from the freaky atmosphere that still lingered. Steve noticed it and wrapped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer to him, as if it were out of habit. 

The whimsical animation started playing on the screen and despite no one would admit it, they silently thanked you for bringing this as a back-up.

Not even halfway through the movie, you noticed breaths getting slower and even some light snores. 

Steve hasn’t moved an inch from your frame, not that you wanted him to though. Every so often, his thumb would brush lightly along your shoulder. At some point, your head found his shoulder and you closed your eyes, drifting off to a faraway land yourself. 

He risked glancing down at you and a warm sensation filled up his chest. It’s been a while since he had felt like this. Ever since the debacle with Nancy, despite going on dates or having one-night encounters, he had been cautious about developing feelings for someone, like one would tiptoe around broken glass. 

But with you, it was different. It wasn't something he could've resisted even if he'd tried. He caught himself thinking about you more often: the way you laughed or how your eyes flickered with excitement at something you liked, the thoughtfulness of your heart, how you noticed things that no one else did, how you anchored the group together. You have definitely found a crack through the walls around his heart and snuck your way in.

There were tiny moments when he suspected that you maybe felt the same for him, but to find out, he had to do something. And that was what scared him. Ruining your friendship would be the last thing he'd like to do. So, for now, he decided he'd keep those thoughts in the quiet corners of his mind.

Exhaustion finally got the best of him, and he let his head rest on top of yours, giving into sleep as well.

Robin watched this whole interaction from the corner of her eyes, finding it much more interesting than the Disney movie. A smirk tugged at her lips. Your crushes on each other were no secret to her, not that either of you had talked to her about them, but she knew their two friends like the back of her hand.

Outside, the wind rattled faintly against the windows, but inside the living room, there was only the soft glow of the screen, the occasional shuffle of limbs under blankets, and the quiet, steady rhythm of all your breathing in sync with each other.

☀︎

the end! (of part 1)

as usual, i'd love to read your thoughts on this and if you'd like me to continue with part 2.

thank you so much for taking the time to read it, it means the world to me 💗

if you had enjoyed it, don't forget to like, reblog & comment.

[unsociableraccoon]

Sorry about your day and fuck that customer! My week has been shit too, hope the next one will be good for both of us

What about the good old; reader falls in love with whatever cod character you want to imagine for that, they reciprocate the feelings but out of fear, they just decide to distance themselves from the reader and go to someone less important to them because they don't want to be hurt. And all the reader can do is watch them with someone else, and on one mission, they got badly injured and the last thing they would remember is the love of their life with someone else.

I don't know if it's makes sense sorry

YES! Fuck them and fuck our shitty week, too! Thank you so much for this lovely message and your kind words, stranger. 🖤 About your idea: it makes complete sense and I love it! Immediately remembered this song, so I wrote the whole thing with Corey’s version on repeat, lol. Hope I did justice to your thoughts! Also, it turned out longer than I anticipated, sorry. 

Wicked Game

What a wicked game to play to make me feel this way What a wicked thing to do to let me dream of you What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way

Part 1 | Part 2

“No hard feelings, bonny,” his tone is strangled. Your stomach drops. 

You scoff at him. “Course not, MacTavish,” you say, smiling softly. “Honestly, I’m surprised it lasted this long.”

He raises an eyebrow, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Brutal, ain’t we?”

You wish you hadn't just fucked him. Wish his scent isn't still clinging to your skin, his sweat mixed with yours. Wish Johnny hadn't blurted out those four words. We need to talk.

Your heart starts to crack inside your chest.

Yanking your shirt over your head, buttoning your pants as fast as possible, you bite back tears. “Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got some losers to stitch up.”

Soap laughs. “Heard a rookie almost blew himself up this week, aye?” 

It’s familiar. The routine, the easygoing way you can talk to each other. And that's what hurts the most. What cuts you open, carves your heart out, and leaves you bleeding.

“Just another day in paradise, baby,” you say, putting on your boots, lacing them tight and firm, as if the pressure can hold you together.

When you reach for the door, his voice stops you mid-step.

“Listen...”

“Don’t worry, Johnny,” you cut him off, “I won’t tell anyone. We never happened.”

Just like that, it’s over. The umbilical cord cut prematurely.

The end of something good and pure that both of you knew never really had a future. Gambling with your heart is always a wicked, dangerous game, and you just lost.

His mouth opens. No words come. He nods.

You offer him one last smile before closing the door behind you, striding down the hallway as fast as you can without raising suspicion. Silent tears slip free before you can stop them. Hands trembling, you reach into your pocket, fingers curling around the small, crumpled box as you step outside.

You walk and walk until the woods swallow you. There, you light a cigarette, dragging until your tongue tastes bitter.

“Fuck,” you scream. “Shit! Fuck!” 

Fuck you, MacTavish. You pathetic fucking loser. 

You light another. The first barely registered, anyway. Your mind spins like a merry-go-round that won't stop.

By the time you return, eyes red and stomach burning, you accidentally bump into a wall of a man.

“Y’alright?” Ghost asks. The broodiest man on earth is suddenly checking if you're okay. Great.

“Never been better, LT.” 

・・・・・

“With all due respect, sir, that’s bullshit,” you reply. 

Soap can't even look at you.

Gaz avoids your gaze, too.

Ghost remains passive, eyes flicking between you and Price.

“It’s not personal, kiddo,” the captain says flatly. “You’ll be a great asset on base.”

“As I always am anywhere, and you know it,” you snap, voice laced with indignation. “I don’t belong locked on a base. Sir.”

“You belong where you’re needed, soldier,” Price says, tone shifting into full command. “I’ll reach out when we need you again.”

You laugh, but it’s devoid of humor. “Right.”

Shoving the chair back, you turn your back to them and walk out without another word.

They cut you off. Like you hadn't stood beside them all those months. Mending their wounds, saving their lives more than once.

They’re gone. And with them, a piece of you, too.

・・・・・

It isn’t fair. 

Soap took everything from you without even realizing it. Him, the task force, the missions. Suddenly, you're left with nothing.

But it's easier on base. The distance helps. Not having to face him almost every day is probably the best thing that could've happened to you.

You try to move on. Try to kill whatever's left of your feelings for Johnny, but they linger. You can’t erase from your brain the way he smiles, one corner of his mouth always slightly higher. How his mohawk wakes up fuzzy and messy after a good night's sleep. His sheepish eyes with crinkled corners. All the little sun spots that dot his face from never wearing sunscreen.

You don't want to love him. You just happen to. And no matter how hard you try, you can't scrub that feeling out of your chest.

Not even when you spot him talking to a rookie on base.

Soft, pleading eyes. A delicate, curvy silhouette with a smile to die for. Exactly his type. A type that is so, so painfully far from what you look like.

You feel like vomiting. The happiness on his face as he looks at her, the adoration that was once reserved for you, and only you.

She laughs brightly, one hand gently brushing his bicep. Her body screams at him to take her, and his body responds. Johnny stands taller. Chin up, chest puffed. That carefully built facade of a strong, cheerful man, laid brick by solid brick.

You know it’s an act. You know it because you took it apart once. Each brick, carefully lifted in your hands, until you reached the real John MacTavish underneath. The broken, hurting man who hides behind all those masks.

Someone urges you to move. The cafeteria line behind you grows, but you can't breathe. Cold dread soaks through your pores as you drop your plate on the counter and stride away.

Johnny meets your gaze, watching you the whole way out.

・・・・・

They’re together now.

At least, that's what the rumor says.

Amber. That’s her name. It suits her. A bright, sweet beam of sunshine floating through the base.

You don't want to hate her. It's not her fault. She probably doesn't even know. Probably thinks she's the first to curl beneath his sheets. Probably thinks she's special.

But you do. You hate her. You hate him. The thing is, hate is just another form of obsession. A not-so-distant cousin of love.

Price calls. Reaches out like it's nothing.

No. No. No.

You don't want to go. Don't want to climb on a plane with him. Don't want his leg brushing against yours. Don't want to hear his voice. Don't want to fight by his side.

But you don’t have a choice.

You belong where you’re needed, soldier.

And they need you.

So you go. That's the job. You bury the pain, lock it deep down where no one can reach it. Then, a switch is flipped, and you're cracking jokes again, blending back in like you never left.

“You good, lass?” 

God, you hate that accent. You hate how much you’ve missed it.

“Yeah. You?” You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Never been better,” he says.

And you both know it’s a lie. 

Deep down, you're just two lost souls orbiting around something bigger. Close, but never quite touching each other. 

You can't look at him for too long. You want to scream. To shake his shoulders and ask why. 

Why did you do this to me? Didn't you say I felt like home to you? What kind of home is this? A house you burn to the ground, leaving only ruins behind?

Instead, you gently stitch his arm. You help Gaz with a minor injury. You insist on checking a scrape on Ghost's shoulder.

It's like old times. Only this time, you're bleeding from an open wound that no one seems to notice.

・・・・・

It burns. 

Pain tears through your body like a wildfire, fast and all-consuming.

You’re lying flat on your back, debris everywhere. You can’t feel your legs. Blood floods your mouth. Each breath comes short. Tears fall without your permission. 

When you look down, you see it: a metal beam driven straight through your chest.

Smoke is thick in your lungs. You scream. Not a name, not a word. Just sound. A howl of agony. And pleading. And hopelessness. 

A voice cuts through the ringing in your ears. His voice. 

It’s distorted, panicked. Metallic through the comms.

You can’t answer. You want to. You try.

“Copy? Fuckin' hell, answer me! Please–” Soap is screaming your name erratically.

They won't make it to your position in time. He knows. His voice is broken, guttural. You can almost touch the grief pouring out of him.

It's okay, you want to say. To comfort him.

Closing your eyes, you don't know why... But you see the two of them together.

You can't shake the memory of how he smiled at her. The way they moved around each other with ease and joy. Effortless. Like you never existed in the first place.

A final wish is made.

Maybe, in another life, he will choose you.

Make a raccoon happy today: likes, comments, reblogs, and follows are very much appreciated! 🦝🖤 You can also put a cookie in the tip jar.

Divider by @cafekitsune

[sweetdispatch]

Help with a little twist

masterlist pairing: Matt Rempe x fem!reader + Gabe Perreault x fem!reader summary: You and Matt proposed Gabe to move into your place but slowly, Matt becomes jealous of your bond with Gabe warning: swear words

Everything was going according to plan. As you were always telling your parents and friends, after graduation you’ll leave the family house and start living by yourself. Well, not exactly by yourself because you and your boyfriend Matt decided to move together. You’ve been together for almost two years and felt like this is a perfect moment for the next step in your relationship. 

In May, you two started slowly moving into your new place and spending an insane amount of money on decorations. In June, the apartment was ready to start living there. At the end of the month, you and Matt invited friends and families to show them your new place and celebrate his birthday. 

It was a simple apartment. Living room with a kitchen, two bedrooms and three bathrooms. You two didn’t want anything fancy, you just wanted to be finally alone and free. The first weeks felt bizarre because your whole life you were living with your family and now, it was only you and Matt. Quickly, this changed. 

“Baby, I have a question” Matt started when you were cutting vegetables for the salad. “Do you mind if one of my teammates would move to our place?” 

“No” You put down the knife and looked at Matt. “Which one?” 

“Gabe. He’s new here but you’ve met him at the end of the season” Matt told you and you tried to remember who he was talking to.

“Black hair, French last name?” You asked him for confirmation.

“Yes. I don't want him to spend the summer in the hotel. We have a spare bedroom and I was thinking about proposing this to him. He would stay with us until he would find his own place” Matt explained to you.

“It’s fine with me” You smiled at him and returned to making a salad. 

“I love you” Matt hugged you from behind and placed a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll propose this to him tomorrow” 

The next day, as always, you went to work, leaving Matt alone. His morning was lazy since he had training later that day. The only thing he did was eat breakfast and pack his bag to leave. This time, he was heading to the gym where he was working out with a couple of his teammates who stayed in New York. Gabe was one of them. After the training, in the locker room, Matt approached Gabe. 

“I have a great offer for you” Matt said and laid his arm on the shelf. 

“Yeah?” Gabe said while changing. 

“You’re staying in the hotel but you don’t have to anymore” Matt said and heard Gabe’ laugh. 

“Are you kicking me out of the hotel?” Gabe joked. 

“Pretty much. I don’t want you to stay there and I want to help you. I know you’re searching for an apartment but this will take ages. Trust me, me and my girlfriend were searching for a couple months until we found something. That’s why my offer is you moving to our place until you find something for you” Matt told him and Gabe looked at him. 

“Are you for real now?” Gabe asked and Matt nodded. “Thanks, that’s so nice of you. Wait, does your girlfriend know about it?” Gabe asked again. 

“Yeah and she said it’s fine. That’s why dress up faster, we’re going for your things and later to your new house” Matt told him. 

“Dude, I’m ready, you’re the one with a towel on your hips” Gabe chuckled. 

10 minutes later, Matt drove Gabe to the hotel and helped him gather all the clothes and things. When they were done, Gabe paid for the nights he was staying there and Matt took him into his apartment. He opened the door and noticed how quiet it was, which meant that you hadn't got back from work. 

“There’s your room. We didn’t really decorate it so feel free to do whatever you want. I’ll leave you alone so I can call my girl but if you need any help, scream” Matt told Gabe and left his bedroom. 

Matt went to the living room and took out his phone from the pocket. Quickly, he dialed your number because he was concerned why you weren’t at home. After two signals, you picked up your phone. 

“Hi baby, where are you?” Matt asked you. 

“I went out with my friends. You weren’t home so I decided to go out. Why? Something happened?” You asked him. 

“No, I was just worried. Also, Gabe’ here. I helped him move after the training” Matt told you. 

“That’s cool. Talk to you later, I love you” You said and haven’t even waited for his response. You hung up and hid your phone in the purse, returning to the conversation with your friends. 

Later that day, after Gabe settled down with his things, he and Matt were sitting in the living room watching a movie and eating a take out. From time to time, they were talking and debating about the movie but it was quiet. Matt heard the door opening and looked at the watch. He spotted that it’s already 1 am. 

“I know, I’m late. I’m sorry” You said immediately when you noticed that the light was still on. 

“Did you have fun?” Matt asked you. 

“Yeah, thank God, I have a free day tomorrow and I can sleep till noon” You said and sat on the couch. “Hi, I’m Y/N” You took out your hand to Gabe. 

“I’m Gabe. Thanks for letting me stay here” Gabe shook your hand. 

“No worries” You smiled at him and laid on the couch. 

“I’ll go to my room. Thanks for this Matt and Y/N. Goodnight” Gabe said and left you two alone. 

“Let’s get you to the bed” Matt stood up and saw you pulling your arms into the air. 

“Carry me?” You asked him. Matt laughed and lifted you up. 

The next weeks, you, Matt and Gabe had been spending a lot of time together. You were going out for dinner, to the cinema. Basically the three of you had been doing everything together. But slowly, you and Gabe were hanging out alone. When he needed a ride, he was asking you for the lift. With every problem, he was coming to you. 

Matt noticed the change and at first, he tried to shrug it off. He was explaining himself that Gabe is asking you for help because you can do more things than he can. Although with time, it started annoying him that you were always with Gabe. He felt like he’s third wheeling your friendship with his teammate. 

“Baby, how about we go out for dinner after work?” Matt asked you while you were getting ready. 

“I can’t. I promised that I’ll go with Gabe shopping” You told him and put the necklace you got from Matt on your neck. 

“As always” Matt muttered under his nose. You heard it but you weren’t in a mood to argue with him in the morning so you ignored his comment. 

After work, you drove back to your place and saw Matt laying on the couch. You went and kissed his cheek but he didn’t even react. You sighed and went to your bedroom to dress up in something more comfortable. Later, you knocked on Gabe's door and he went out. Without a word, you two left the apartment leaving Matt alone. 

“What’s with you two?” Gabe asked you in the car. 

“He has a problem, ignore it. I’ll talk with him later. So where are we going?” You said. 

“Ikea. I need to buy a couple things for decoration and I need your help” Gabe joked. 

Three hours later, the trunk was full of different things like pillows, sheets, pans, pots and silverware. Gabe told you that he wants to buy those things now, since he’s free and only about finding an apartment and unpacking there. You were more than willing to help him because you’ve been there and you knew how problematic moving in can be. 

When you two were in the parking lot, you called Matt to ask him for help but he coldly told you that he went to Quick’ house for dinner because they invited him. Before you could ask him when he’ll be back home, he already hung up. It was weird but you didn’t want to show it to Gabe that something’s wrong. You two grabbed the bags and left them in his room. 

You went to your bedroom to get ready for bed and Gabe stayed in his room. All the time, you were thinking what Matt's problem might be and you remembered the comment he made this morning when you told him that you’ll be helping Gabe. You knew that you needed to confront him but he wasn’t at home. You fell asleep in an empty space. 

The next day, you woke up to an empty space and noticed that Matt hadn't even got back home for the night. Now, your blood was boiling with how childish he was acting. You’ve been together for two years and he never acted this way. He was always the one to talk about problems and now, he was running away from them. 

Ready to leave for work, you went out of your bedroom and saw a small bag on the kitchen island with a bottle of water next to it. You were confused by it until you heard Gabe’ voice behind you. 

“I made you a sandwich for work as a thank you for yesterday” Gabe said. 

“Thank you but you didn’t have to. I’m happy that I could help you” You smiled and grabbed it. 

“I wanted. You’re doing so much to me and this is how I could repay you” Gabe told you and you could swear that your heart melted by his actions. “Also, do you have time after work? I found a place and I would love to go with you to look around so you could help me decide” 

“Sure thing. I’ll be back around 4 pm so we can go after. Now, I really have to go. Thanks for the sandwich” You smiled again and left the apartment. 

When you were at work, Gabe was getting ready for training. He was a little surprised that Matt wasn’t at home and started wondering if he’s gonna show up for the training. He knew it’s only summer preparation before the season but his absence at his own home was alarming. That’s why Gabe sent him a text with this question and Matt promised to pick him up to go there together. 

“Why are you not at home?” Gabe asked him when he sat in the passenger seat. 

“I was visiting Quick” Mat said shortly. For the rest of the ride, none of them said a word. 

Today, they had training on the ice and decided to play a game. Matt was on the blue team when Gabe was in white team. Everyone was playing easy, careful not to get any injuries but Matt was rough to Gabe. Each time Gabe had a puck, Matt threw him onto the boards. At first, Gabe wasn’t bothered because that’s hockey but with each hit, he started getting annoyed with Matt. 

Gabe was standing near the net when the blue team was in the attack. Matt shot the puck and hit Gabe into the face with it. The next thing Gabe remembered is laying on the ice with an insane pain radiating on his face. Everyone looked at Gabe, trying to help him but he only looked at Matt who was unbothered. Quickly, Gabe left the ice and called it a day. The rest of the guys followed him since they'd already been an hour out there. 

In the locker room, Matt and Gabe were changing up. On Gabe’ face had a visible bruise on his cheek. Matt didn't apologise for it and Gabe wasn’t in the mood to talk with him either. He didn’t know what his problem was and he didn’t want to make a scene in the locker room. Quickly, he typed a message to you with a question if you can pick him up from the rink. You agreed and right after work, you went there. 

“Are you going?” Matt asked Gabe when he was ready. 

“No, I’m waiting for Y/N” Gabe told him, still scrolling his phone. 

“Of course” Matt scoffed and left him. 

Twenty minutes later, you parked in front of the arena and waited for Gabe. When he left the arena, immediately you noticed the huge bruise on his cheek. You panicked and already started thinking about going to the hospital instead of going to see the apartment. 

“What the hell happened there? Are you alright? Does it hurt? Do you wanna go to the hospital?” You started bombarding Gabe with the questions when he sat on the passenger seat. 

“Matt hit me with the puck. I’m alright, let’s go to see the place” Gabe said defeated. 

You decided not to ask anymore questions. Focused on the drive, you two went to the apartment to look around. Gabe wasn’t as talkative as always. Almost all the time, he was quiet even in the apartment. It was a nice place, 15 minutes from Madison Square Garden. Looked similar to your place where you and Matt were living, just a little smaller and with two bathrooms. 

“If I was you, I would take the place” You told Gabe truthfully. 

“I’m taking this place. It’s nice and close to the arena. I don’t need anything fancy” Gabe admitted. “When can I move in?” This time, he asked Jeff who was showing him the apartment. 

“You can sign the contract today and tomorrow, you can start moving in” Jeff told him and pulled out the contract. Gabe signed it and got the keys from Jeff. 

“Congratulations, this is your new house” Jeff smiled and shook his hand. 

“The next big purchase is a car” You said and Gabe laughed. 

The ride back to your apartment was way more cheerful. You two stopped in a shop to buy a couple boxes to pack all the Gabe’s things there so he can finally move into his new place. Later, you went on the drive thru to buy some food and ate it in the parking lot, talking about moving into the new place. It was almost 9 pm when you two returned home. This night, Matt was at home and heard your laugh when you and Gabe walked into. 

“I didn’t expect you to be home” You said when you saw Matt in the kitchen. 

“This is my place as much as it is yours” Matt said coldly. 

“We’ll get back to this conversation” You said and went with Gabe into his room. You left the boxes that you were having in your hands on the floor. 

“If you need any help with packing, yell” You told Gabe and left his room. You returned to the kitchen and saw Matt still standing there and cooking dinner. “What the hell is your problem?” 

“I don’t have a problem” Matt said with indifference in his voice. 

“Spit it out. I’m not in the mood to play your games now” You told him firmly. 

“Go to play the games with Gabe then” Matt said a little louder and you realised what his problem is. 

“You’re jealous” You said. “You’re jealous because I’m spending time with Gabe” 

“I am, happy?” Matt said and threw the spoon on the pan. 

“That’s why you hit him with the puck?” You asked him. 

“It’s hockey. It happens” Matt said without any remorse. 

“You’re unbelievable” You said not believing what you just heard. 

“I’m not the one who’s choosing a friend over her own boyfriend” Matt said unbothered. 

“I was helping him. He doesn't have a car so he needs a ride everywhere” You told him. 

“He could ask me” Matt shrugged. 

“And you would help him with picking decorations for his new apartment?” You asked Matt and he just stared at you. “You wouldn’t because I was the one who picked the decorations here. He needed my help with buying things. That’s why I was helping him. You would know about it if you wouldn’t act like an idiot” You said a little louder. 

“You were buying things to his place with him?” Matt couldn’t believe what he just heard. 

“Yes” You told him. “And for your information, he found a place. He signed a contract today and he’s packing his things now. You can be mad at me all you want but hitting him with a puck? Are you twelve?” 

“I’m sorry…” Before Matt could continue, you interrupted him. 

“I don’t care about your sorry. I’m mad that you had so little trust in me and instead of talking, like you always do, you decided to be mad and act like a child. Apologise to him for what you have done” You told him and went into your bedroom. 

Matt sighed, defeated. He knew he was wrong for this and none of you deserved this. The dinner was long forgotten for him. Instead of trying to make it up to you, he went and knocked on Gabe’ door. 

“Come it” Gabe said and Matt opened the door. He saw all the clothes and things laying around. He also noticed the cute pillows that he was sure you picked to bring a little color. 

“Look, I’m sorry mate for what I did on the training” Matt told him. 

“It’s cool, shit happens” Gabe said and put another shirt into a box. 

“It’s not cool, I acted like a dick because I was thinking that you’re hitting on my girlfriend” Matt sighed and Gabe stopped what he was doing. 

“I would never hit on Y/N. She was only helping me with the moving” Gabe told him. 

“Now I know and I feel bad for all the mess I’ve made” Matt told him. 

“I get why you thought about it but between me and Y/N nothing happened and nothing will happen. You should apologise to her” Gabe said and Matt laughed pathetically. 

“She told me that I should apologise to you. Plus, I know her well enough to know that she doesn’t want to talk with me now” Matt said. 

“You two are gonna be fine. Just give her a little time” Gabe returned to packing. 

“Do you need any help?” Matt asked. 

“If you want to, that would be great” Gabe said with a small smile. 

For the next couple of hours, Matt was helping Gabe with packing. The atmosphere was free from any problems and friendly. They were jokes over some of the things. They were serious moments about going to live by yourself. The real problem started, when Gabe was packed and Matt needed to face you. 

Matt was scared. He knew he fucked up and made stupid assumpsion without actual conversation with you. He didn’t even know how to fix it. Quietly, he opened the bedroom door and spotted you, facing the window and sleeping. He smiled at the view of how peaceful you were. 

The next day, you woke up and saw that Matt was already gone. You went to make yourself a cup of tea to put it in the bathroom and have a little spa morning. When you walked into the kitchen, you spotted Gabe and Matt sitting on the couch and playing video games. The boxes were everywhere and by mistake, you kicked one of the boxes which brought the attention to the guys. 

“Good morning” Matt said with a smile, hoping that today you’ll be less mad at him. 

“Morning” You said with a tone that Matt couldn’t decode. “Gabe, you want to go to your place after the training?” 

“I’m not going today. I decided to go to my new place to settle everything down” Gabe told you. 

“Oh, okay” You said but deep down you knew that your little spa won’t work. “When do you want to leave?” 

“When you’ll be ready” Gabe said and you poured water into your cup. 

“Can you give me an hour to get ready?” You asked him and grabbed a cup. 

“No problem” Gabe smiled. 

“Can I come? We can ride on two cars so we won’t have to return here for the boxes” Matt proposed. You wanted to protest but you knew it’s not your call. 

“That would be great” Gabe said and in that moment, you went into your bathroom. 

In the shower, you started accepting the fact that you’ll have to talk with Matt at some point. You were still mad at him but you also knew that he had a point. You shouldn’t be ditching him for his teammate and you should always tell him why you were going out with him so much. After you were done with everything in the bathroom, you still had an extra 20 minutes which you decided to spend on drinking the tea on a toilet seat and thinking about the day. 

“Okay, I’m ready” You said when you finally left the bathroom. You put your cup on the counter and grabbed the first box. Matt and Gabe quickly followed you and after 10 minutes, both cars were packed with everything. Gabe decided to go with you to have a conversation with you about last night. 

“I’ve heard you’re mad at Matt” Gabe started and you rolled your eyes. 

“Did he send you here?” You asked him. 

“No. I just want you to know that Matt feels guilty. He looked really mad at himself for this whole situation. I told him that he needs to talk with you but he said that he’s sure that you don’t want to talk with him” Gabe shrugged.

“It’s not like that. I just don’t know what to tell him because I know I also acted wrongly. I should tell him why I’m going out with you so much but I never had to explain myself so it never crossed my mind. I didn’t know he'd act like that and I feel guilty, especially about your bruise” You told him truthfully. 

“This is exactly what you need to tell him. The truth. Matt loves you. You love Matt. Just be honest with each other and you’ll be fine” Gabe said. 

The rest of the ride was quiet. When you finally parked the car and opened the trunk, Matt parked his car next to yours. The three of you started taking every box into the elevator to later leave it in Gabe’s new apartment. It took you way longer than bringing the boxes to the cars. 

“Do you want help with unpacking?” You asked Gabe when the last box was in his apartment. 

“No. I got this from here. Thanks for all the help with everything Y/N” Gabe hugged you. “And thanks for letting me live with you” He said to Matt. 

“I’ve been there so I wanted to help” Matt said and hugged him. 

“Our doors are always open for you if you would ever need anything” You told Gabe. 

“Thank you guys” Gabe told you and Matt. 

You and Matt left Gabe’s new place and went downstairs to the cars. No words were said between the two of you. When you were sitting in your car, you put on your favorite playlist and started singing the lyrics. Matt called his sister for help on how to apologise to you. Way two different car rides but with the same goal - to bury the hatchet. 

You arrived first and sighed. This place was quiet now. It was you and Matt again but you got so used to Gabe's presence that this felt wrong. You grabbed the cup that you left earlier and finally washed it. A couple minutes later, Matt walked through the door with a bouquet of your favorite white roses and an iced coffee. 

“I’m sorry” Matt said. “I know that with this I won’t buy your forgiveness but I wanted to give you the flowers. Remember when I was always bringing you flowers when I was visiting you at your home?” You nodded. “I want to continue the tradition” Matt laid the flowers on the counter. “The coffee I brought you because I was driving past Starbucks and I always stop by to bring you one” He handed you the cup. 

“Thank you” You took a sip of your coffee. It was perfect, after the first date Matt memorised your coffee order and he never forgot it. “I also want to say sorry”

“You have nothing to apologise for. I acted like a dick. I should ask you why you were ditching me for Gabe but instead I ran away from the problem and later took the anger out on him” Matt said ashamed. 

“But I should tell you why I was going out with him so often. You never had any issues with me going out and this never crossed my mind to explain to you why I’m not spending that much time with you” You told him. 

“Because you don’t have to. It was dumb of me to be jealous when you were helping him. It was kind from your side and I should know better that you always want to help people” Matt said. You went to step closer to him. 

“I love you and I don’t want to fight anymore. We both messed up and we both are sorry. Let’s just forget about it and move on” You said and hugged him. 

“I love you too” Matt kissed the top of your head. “Now, we have all the time for ourselves” 

“We have to this point that we’ll get bored of each other” You joked. 

“I could never be bored of you” Matt told you and you smiled at his words. “How about a date? We haven’t been on one in a long time” 

“With pleasure” You told him. 

“How about sushi night?” Matt asked you. 

“You read my mind” You said. Matt grabbed your hand and led you to leave the apartment.

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

Hey there! Hope you're doing well! 😊

I saw your requests are open again, so I wanted to resubmit one I sent a while ago (like… years ago haha). It was a Sam Winchester story inspired by the song Line Without a Hook. I know it never got posted, but I still adore the idea and thought maybe you'd be interested now!

No pressure at all — just wanted to put it out there again in case it sparks anything.

If you feel like writing it, that would be amazing! And if not, no worries at all. Sending lots of love anyway 💕

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐤

𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐂! 𝐒𝐀𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

Summary: Sam sees her die in a vision. In the daylight, he pushes her away, already mourning her. He doesn’t want to be alone, but he doesn't have a good track record when it comes to saving the women he loves. And this time feels different. This time, it feels like prophecy. angst with a fluffy ending! psychic migraines & emotional distress!

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

The pain started behind his eyes. It was sharp and bloomed like a firecracker. "Sam," Y/N warned. "Pull over."

"We're almost out of town," he gasped, knuckles white against the steering wheel. Granite road blurred against screaming headlights.

"Sam," she said, louder now. “You’re a mess. Just stop the car!”

“I can’t,” he snapped. “We don’t have time. Something’s coming. I saw it.” The car veered left on the winding road. Her heart thundered when the wheels rolled over debris. Sam's eyes shut briefly against the pain.

"You're not driving through a vision! Let me take the wheel!"

He finally glanced at her, and it made her blood run cold. That look again. She had been seeing it ever since they fell in love. He was memorizing her and bracing for the obituary.

Y/N exhaled. "Not now, Sam. Don't look at me like I’m already dead.”

"I'm not," he murmured. The car lurched. "I'm just trying to hold on."

"To me? Sam, you haven’t touched me in days. You flinch when I get too close. You think I haven’t noticed?"

"I wake up every day expecting to lose you." The admission came out raw, like it hurt to say. “I’m terrified that this freak show demon blood is going to kill you."

She clutched onto her seatbelt then, and it bit rough lines into her palm. “You’re preemptively grieving me. That's your plan.”

“It’s not a plan,” he said hoarsely. “It’s a curse.”

Sam winced hard and slapped a palm to his forehead, dragging in a breath like it burned. The migraine hit full force, blinding and splitting. The road curved, but his grip faltered.

"I can't see how it happens," he said feverishly. "Only that it does. Why can't I see it?"

Y/N stared at him hard. "You've seen me die." The realization hit like a truck, and she felt a recoil of phantom pain in her chest. "God Sam, you're trying to outrun a premonition. Stop the car."

The tires skidded.

"I can't lose you," he said, slumping over the wheel.

"Sam? Sam! What did you see? We can fight it together, just let me in!" Y/N glanced back at the road. A thick ravine was coming up fast. She reached for the steering. Sam was out cold.

She screamed his name.

The crunch of metal came first.

Then, the sound of her voice was swallowed by glass and flame.

Sam woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat, back arching like something was being ripped from his spine.

“Whoa, whoa, easy! Hey, take it easy, man!"

Dean's voice was loud and clear, an anchor from the storm. He gripped Sam's shoulder, steadying him. He blinked, heart hammering.

A motel room. A yellow light. The scratchy comforter. Too many sensations and sights, and none of them a comfort. Sam's eyes searched until they found her.

Y/N kneeled beside his bed, Her right hand crushing his. She wiped sweat from his brow, alive, breathing, and real.

"Sam," she whispered. "You need to relax. It was a vision, wasn't it?" She turned to Dean. "Water." He sprinted to the bathroom sink.

Sam nodded mutely, throat locked. His eyes didn't shift until he pressed his forehead against hers. "It's a curse," he whispered. "And it's growing."

Dean returned with a glass of lukewarm water. Sam didn't register, so Y/N held it to his lips and angled it gently. He choked on the first sip.

At the end of the bed, Dean paced. “You were out for like five minutes. Full-on seizure. Scared the crap outta us, dude."

“Five minutes?” Sam croaked.

“Yeah. Long enough for you to nearly break your own damn teeth.”

"It wasn't so bad," Y/N lied. Sam’s hands trembled, reaching for her. She looked different, like she knew.

"Dean," he said. "Give us a minute?"

He nodded warily and stepped out.

There wasn't enough air in the room and Sam felt constricted. "I'm a wreck when I'm without you." He looked at her, a question in the tight lines of his frown. "Is it worth it?"

She pressed a kiss to the top of his hand. “What did you see?” she asked quietly.

"You don't need to know."

"You said my name over and over like a prayer. We both know that's not true."

Sam swallowed hard. “We were in the car, and I was driving. It was like having a vision within a vision. You were yelling at me to pull over.” His voice cracked. “I didn’t. I couldn’t."

"What else?"

"I crashed it."

"You're holding out on me."

"You didn't make it."

She stared at him, jaw tight. Her hand slipped from their hold. “And you think that’s fate,” she said.

“No,” he said, too fast. “It's not set in stone. If I can see ahead, then I can stop it in time."

She stood slowly, her back to him now, arms crossed tight. “Every time you look at me, I can feel it. Like I’m already a memory you’re bracing yourself to lose.”

“I’m trying to protect you." He winced from the remnants of the migraine. This latest episode had hit him the hardest. "All of this is my fault. If I could take it all back, I swear that I would."

“You’re pushing me out the door,” she shot back. "But you’re not alone. Not yet. Not unless you make it that way. Fight for me, Sam. Not against what might happen. Fight for what we still have. For what’s still real.”

He dragged himself up a few inches, higher up on the stacked pillows, and held his arms out. Y/N took long strides back to the bed and fell into his embrace. The smell of her shampoo overwhelmed him with memories, the best he had to date.

The room felt haunted because Sam Winchester wasn’t just afraid of losing her.

He had seen it.

And the future didn’t always care what you were willing to fight for.

But he needed her to stay.

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Considering Sam's *awesome* track record with women, I'm sure they get a happy ending. Don't worry  :)

YOU! THIS REQUEST! I couldn't find the OG in my inbox, but I remember! Thanks so much for holding on, I love that you reminded me. ❤️

➤ General | @the-chaotic-cow @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @adaydreamaway08 @stitchintimefan @andthevillainshallrises @justyourlocalwhore @waiting-for-cas-to-save-me @leigh70 @cookiemumster1

➤ Sam | @baby-bloos @fuiabarcelos

[ladykailitha]

Forever Young Part 10

Just one more chapter to go. And am I leaving this on a cliffhanger for two weeks? Yes, yes I am. Because I'm wicked like that.

In this Joyce and Hopper return, Lucas is still unimpressed by Joyce's attitude, and Wayne shows his love for a certain orange tabby.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

~

Wayne let them stay up. They were technically adults and becoming closer to that with every passing moment.

Robin and Nancy went to the room they shared the night before, while Steve went to his own room, leaving Jonathan and Eddie to the downstairs guest room.

Something that honestly made Wayne relieved. He didn’t want another incident of Steve and Jonathan remembering hating each other and trying to kill each other again.

The teenagers all camped out in the front room, while Wayne took the final guest room.

If all went to pattern, the older teens would be around the same age as the younger teens and wouldn’t need to be looked after anymore and he could go back to work.

He knew he should just trust the younger teenagers, especially Mike and Lucas, but he felt a strong desire to protect young Steve that it made it hard for him to leave. There was something in those hazel eyes that spoke of pain unmatched.

~

There was a loud commotion going on outside of his door, and Wayne was going to murder whoever it was.

He looked over at the clock and sighed. At least whoever it was waited until a semi-decent hour of after nine. He got to his feet and threw on his robe, padding out to the foyer. He rubbed his eyes again. It was Joyce and Hopper but they were yelling at someone he couldn’t see.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he called out to be heard over the yelling. “Enough!” He whistled loudly to emphasize his point.

Everyone who had gathered in the foyer froze and turned to see Wayne standing there in a terry cloth brown robe and Garfield pajamas.

“Wayne!” Joyce said in relief. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

“Yeah,” Lucas said, rolling his eyes. “Because you wouldn’t let us tell you.”

“Lucas!” Joyce cried, her eyes wide. “What did I say before we left?”

“You’re not my mom,” Lucas said with a half shrug, “and with Wayne being here, he’s the adult in charge. Because you left. You don’t get come back and start yelling at Steve without knowing a damn thing that’s been going on the last two days.”

Joyce opened her mouth to protest but Hopper put his hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

“Jim!” she said outraged. “Are you really going to let him talk to me that way?”

“Sorry Joyce,” Wayne said, bullying his way through the crowd. “But the kid’s got a point. Especially since to Steve right now, you’re a stranger coming into his house and screaming at him...” he turned to Mike. “What was the screaming about?”

“That he’s still roughly eight years old,” Mike explained with a shrug. “I don’t know what he could do about it. It’s not as though he controls when he grows up and when he reverts. At least not if my theory is correct.”

Wayne let out a pained sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He expected them to have aged at least a little overnight.

Then the guest room next to Steve’s bedroom opened and Robin came out, rubbing her eyes. “Hey, guys what’s all the ruckus?”

Robin looked about to be sixteen years old. Not quite her current age of eighteen but close enough for her to remember a lot of shit.

Nancy came out after, wiping her face of the drool from her slumber and she too was older.

“What’s going on?” Nancy muttered, trying to peer blearily at them.

The crowd parted and showed Little Steve standing there, looking for all the world like he had the day before. He hadn’t aged. Not like Robin and Nancy had. And probably the other two boys as well.

Nancy spotted Little Steve first. “Why are we older and Steve isn’t?”

Robin looked down at her best friend. “I don’t know, but he’s kinda cute that little.”

Little Steve blushed and ducked his head. “I like being little.”

Joyce waved her hand at him and turned on Wayne and Hopper. “See? This is exactly the problem, he’s being coddled and he needs to grow up. He can’t stay little forever.”

“It’s only been two days,” Dustin said, putting his hands on his hips. “He doesn’t have to go to work until the weekend so it’s not like he has to be somewhere.”

“Besides,” Will said, drawing himself to his full height. “It’s not as though we’re kids anymore ourselves. Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan were all our age when I got kidnapped by the Upside Down. And they didn’t know what they were doing. We do. Mom, we’re fine.”

Joyce took his face in her hands and pressed their foreheads together. “I know. I know and I hate leaving you to deal with adult problems. I’m proud of all of you, honest. I’m just stressed out from our trip and I shouldn’t have taken it out on Steve.” She let out a shuddering breath. “I know Eddie’s older, but Steve has been here with us since the beginning. I trust him to know what to do.”

“So was it the Upside Down?” El asked, tilting her head to side as she regarded Joyce.

Hopper shook his head. “No. But it could have turned into it if the idiot Russian spies had gone to the right place.”

“We think they were looking for Murray to get him to talk,” Joyce continued. “But Murray is just this side of paranoid and was able to spot them.”

El nodded. “That’s good you were able to stop them from getting Murray.”

“Will, would you go get the boys from downstairs?” Wayne said dryly. “I’ll make breakfast and we can try to sort out the problem of Steve staying young after we’ve eaten.”

Will went and did as he was told and Eddie and Jonathan’s reactions to still tiny Steve mirrored Robin and Nancy’s.

“Why is Steve still little?” Jonathan asked, coming to a complete stop.

“Oh shit!” Eddie said with a grin, peering around Jonathan. “Baby Steve is adorable. I mean knew he was, because I do remember the last couple of days. But being able to admire it from this angle is all the better.”

Steve turned an alarming shade of bright red at the compliment.

Wayne got out the two large cooking griddles that he had seen on the first day in the pantry of kitchen appliances and set them on the stove. He really was getting used to that stove. With how big it was and how many burners it had. No wonder Steve hosted the parties all the time. When cooking for such a large crowd, they needed all the space possible.

When he was done setting it up, he saw that Joyce had made a large batch of pancake batter and as soon as the griddles got hot enough, the three adults got to work cooking up as many pancakes as they could. Making sure that Steve got his first as the littlest, and then all the teenagers.

Even after all of them were feed, there was still more than plenty for them to eat and still have leftovers for seconds. Which several of the boys did go back for.

Then the now army of teenagers got to work clearing the table and counters and putting everything away.

El took Steve out to play by the pool while everyone else talked. She could keep tabs on the conversation telepathically and watch Steve.

The four teenaged adults were sat on the sofa while the three adults stood, and the real teenagers milled around on whatever surface they could find.

“All right,” Hopper said, putting his thumbs in his belt loops. “I’mma gonna guess that you guys couldn’t remember much about what happened to make you like this but now that your closer to your actual age, maybe you could enlighten us.”

“Well,” Nancy looking around at the other three changed adults, “we’re not exactly sure on that one. We were watching movies and talking about what it would be like to be kids again.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan agreed. “We all made a wish to be kids again. To be free of responsibilities for a change.”

Eddie snorted, leaning his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. “But not like forever or even until we grew up again. None of us wanted to go through puberty again.”

“Oh yeah,” Robin agreed. “Like Nancy and I were talking about playing hooky from work and just biking around town, raiding the gas station for candy and Slurpees.” She glanced at Nancy. “But I don’t think any of us were really serious about it, though.”

Jonathan snorted. “I sure as hell was. No offense to Will as it wasn’t his fault, but ever since he was kidnapped, I couldn’t stop worrying it happening again. So I thought it would be great to be an only child again. But like only for a couple of days.” He grimaced. “So I think I’m the one who accidentally set the starting age.”

“Jonathan...” Joyce said pained. “Oh my gosh! I’ve been focusing so much on Will and keeping him safe that I really hadn’t been thinking about you’re wants and desires, too. I’m so sorry, baby.” She gave Jonathan a hug.

Will smiled. “I’ll have to admit I enjoyed taking care of big brother for a change.”

Jonathan smiled back.

“So it was all a wish to be kids again?” Hopper asked, rubbing his chin, one hand still on his hip.

The four of them shrugged.

“I mean, I guess,” Robin said. “It was just fooling around. But I guess enough of us just wanted to be kids again.”

“And in Steve’s case,” Lucas said from the floor, where he was curled up with Max, “back when his parents loved him.”

“Eee...” she agreed. “Like it got really heavy for Steve. The desire to a kid again. Back when all he he had to worry about was if he wanted apple juice or chocolate milk with his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

“Which the correct answer is always apple juice,” Eddie said firmly. “It helps take away some of the sweetness of the sandwich.”

Wayne snorted into his hand.

Then as they talked about the last couple of days and what they remembered, the four of them grew into their adult selves once more.

Nancy looked down at her pajamas that were now suddenly too small and had been since they woke, but only noticed at that moment, in shame. She cleared her throat. “Is there anyway we could get clothes that fit us?”

“The kids packed a bag for each of ya,” Wayne said, “when we were trying to convince your parents that you were merely camping out at Steve’s for a couple of days. It should be in the laundry room.”

The four of them got up to go change, leaving just the adults and the teenagers.

Hopper rubbed his temples and sighed heavily. “What’s the chances Steve grew up too?”

El walked in carrying a sleeping Little Steve. “I’m afraid that’s zero.”

Wayne rushed over to take him from her.

“He sleeps the most out of all of them,” Dustin cried. “But he stays the same!”

“I keep telling you,” Joyce huffed, putting her hands on her hips. “If you keep babying him, he’s going to want to stay that way forever.”

She walked up to Wayne and he swung around to keep her from touching Little Steve.

“Wake him up,” she demanded.

“Why?” Wayne growled back. “If yelling at them worked, it would have happened yesterday. Which it didn’t.”

The four young adults came back into the room.

“Kinda the opposite,” Nancy said with a half shrug. “He got younger.”

Joyce whirled around and stared at them wide-eyed. “He did what?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan said, tilting his head to the side. “It’s really weird, but Steve fluctuated from four to eight a lot over the past couple of days and the only one who had an idea was Nance, but her idea didn’t pan out.”

Nancy took his hand in hers and then turned back to Joyce. “That’s not quite true. Mike said he had a theory.”

Little Steve stirred on his own. He rubbed his eyes and blinked up at the rather large crowd.

“Who are you guys? What are you doing in my house? And where’s my mom and dad?”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @niniel-karenine @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@tartarusknight @gloomysoup @kultiras @samsoble

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @oopsallgender @fearieshadow @dragonmama76

6- @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars

7- @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gutterflower77 @wheneverfeasible

8- @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss @steddieislife @stripey82

9- @tony-2012 @stedestielfrattficlover @micheledawn1975 @moonshadows-13 @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale

10- @morallyundefined @best-thing-at-this-party @ollieolive @exasperatedsighohmy @watermelonmite

[theseventhdimension]

Hiya darling! I saw that your requests where open and I was hoping that you could do one for me? If you can I would like season 1 Aaron Hotchner x male reader where the reader has ADHD, panic disorder, and depression and he takes some meds to help and sometimes forgets so I was hoping that you could do one where Aaron has to kind of calms the reader down after somethin and makes sure to help the reader take their meds and it’s all soft and fluffy like?

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this request (I hope it wasn’t to specific) I love your work! I hope you have a wonderful day/night! 💗

Observed, Noted, Remembered

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Gn! Reader

Word Count: 1.4k+

DNI: All are Welcome!

Author's Note: You're so sweet I'm gonna follow you home. I'm so so so so soooo sorry it took my like over a week to do this wjdhbhvclJHDAvb (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ but I hope it's okay :)) I love writing Aaron i just want to munch on him like a little ragdoll.

As always, all feedback is appreciated!! Hope you enjoy ( •̀ ᴗ •́ )و

There’s always been something in the back of your mind. Not quite a voice—nothing so definable. Just a pressure. A shadow. A hum in your wiring that never switches off. It tugs at you in quiet moments, breathing its old refrain: Too loud. Too much. Too wrong.

It’s not always words. Sometimes it’s a flickering sensation behind your eyes, like someone’s dimming the lights in your skull. Sometimes it’s like your skin’s on wrong. The tag in your shirt becomes a scream. The smell of someone’s cologne three feet away clogs your lungs. Your own heartbeat sounds too loud in your ears and suddenly the world is too much.

You used to think that was just how brains worked. That everyone had to rehearse phone calls like scripts. That everyone rewrote case notes three times to make the bullet points line up—only to lose the file ten minutes later. That forgetting to eat, to shower, to breathe was just regular adult chaos. You even thought maybe Hotch had those days too—where he stared at his badge in his hand and forgot where he was supposed to go.

But then came the diagnoses. ADHD. Panic disorder. Depression. Things with names and pamphlets and matching pills. For a while, it got easier. Not easy, never that—but quieter.

Until the quiet started to feel... hollow. Like your thoughts had been put in a straightjacket. The chaos was gone, sure—but so was the color. The joy. The part of you that made midnight playlists and scribbled quotes on receipts and got lost in stupid internet rabbit holes about 14th-century execution methods. The part of you that laughed too hard and talked too fast.

On the meds, you just stared at your coffee until it got cold.

People called it peace. It felt like being wrapped in gauze.

So you stopped. And then you started again. And then stopped. Again.

It was always like this. A tug-of-war between clarity and comfort, energy and exhaustion. You told yourself it was choice. Freedom. Autonomy.

But it never really felt like that. It felt like throwing a coin every morning and praying the side it landed on wouldn’t ruin your whole day.

The case in Utah had been brutal.

Forty-eight hours of chasing leads, dodging press, and walking through someone else’s worst day.

Sleep was a joke. The team had split into pairs, burned through every contact and detail trying to find a pattern. You hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Or maybe the day before.

And there was a toddler’s shoe. That’s what broke you.

Not the body. Not the suspect. The tiny, mud-caked shoe left in a field, barely visible under frost. You hadn’t been able to stop seeing it. Even when you blinked, even when you slept standing up with your eyes open.

Now, at last, it was over. The unsub was in custody. The press had been deflected. The parents would get closure. Technically, this was a win.

You didn’t feel it.

The scene was winding down. Evidence techs zipped bags and packed up, voices fading beneath the pulse of red-blue strobes. A detective clapped Hotch on the shoulder, murmuring thanks. You didn’t really hear it. Couldn’t.

You stood off to the side, still and glassy-eyed, like your body hadn’t gotten the memo that the danger was over. You were supposed to be helping with final checks—God knows you tried—but something in you had unspooled.

Static filled your chest. Your fingers twitched. Your eyes tracked motion but didn’t see it.

Okay. Just… do something simple. Something tactile.

You reached into your jacket pocket.

Keys. Pen cap. Crumpled receipt.

No pill case.

Your chest tightened.

You patted yourself down again—rough, urgent.

Still nothing.

A cold ripple of dread started at the base of your spine.

No. No, no, no.

You yanked your satchel off your shoulder, fingers diving in like they could undo time. Papers crinkled. A flashlight clattered against the asphalt. You couldn’t focus—just grabbed and searched and fumbled.

But you already knew.

Your emergency meds—the ones you always brought on field assignments—were still sitting on your dresser. In Virginia. You’d seen them. Even told yourself, “Grab that before you go.”

You didn’t.

And the realization opened a sinkhole in your gut.

You forgot. Again. You always forget. You’re slipping. Spiraling. Useless like this.

Your thoughts started to spin. Faster. Louder. Each one crashing into the next before it could even finish forming.

You forgot. You forgot. You forgot—

Your breath hitched. Then caught. Then took off, jagged and sharp like barbed wire in your throat. You didn’t even feel your knees give out until you were bracing against the bumper of the nearest SUV.

The tunnel came quick.

Sound distorted. Time fractured. Air became a rumor.

You couldn’t breathe.

You were going under.

“Aaron—”

Someone said it. Maybe Morgan. Maybe Reid.

Didn’t matter.

Because he heard it.

Hotch turned instantly, like someone pulled a string in his spine. His gaze snapped to you, narrowed, locked. He was already moving before anyone else could react.

You didn’t see him approach. But suddenly, he was there.

“Hey,” came the voice—low, calm, sure. “Look at me.”

You couldn’t. Your hands were clawing at your jacket, desperate to do something, fix it, make it stop—

But then his hand touched your forearm. Warm. Gentle. Present.

Not grabbing. Not guiding. Just... there.

“Breathe,” he said again. “I’ve got you.”

You tried. You really did. But it came out a strangled inhale and a broken rasp:

“I forgot them,” you managed. “I—I left them at home, I was fine, I thought I was fine, and now I—”

“Okay,” he said. Not dismissive. Not panicked. Just calm. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

You shook your head, heart galloping into your throat. “No, you don’t get it, I—I can’t breathe, I can’t fix it this time—”

“Stop,” he said gently, lowering into your line of sight. “You can. Just look at me.”

You did.

Barely.

Your eyes were glassy. Your whole body trembled.

And then—quietly, like it was nothing—Hotch reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

He pulled out a small plastic container. Travel-size. Familiar.

Inside: two pills. Yours.

You blinked. Couldn’t speak.

He pressed it into your palm. His hand covered yours like a promise.

“I’ve been keeping a backup,” he murmured. “Just in case.”

Your throat burned. Your chest cracked open.

“Since when?” you whispered.

“Dallas.”

You stared. That had been three months ago. The hotel bathroom. Cold tiles. A panic spiral so bad you couldn’t even turn the tap. You thought he’d forgotten.

You hoped he had.

But of course he hadn’t.

Of course he noticed.

Hotch didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t dramatize. He just carried people quietly—filed their needs away like case notes and recalled them with unshakable precision.

“You noticed?” you asked, hoarse.

“I always notice,” he said.

And it wasn’t proud. It wasn’t pity.

It was just the truth.

He handed you a sealed bottle of water. Waited.

You took the pill. Sipped the water.

Pressed your sleeve to your face.

And then… sat.

Right there on the SUV bumper, shoulder to shoulder with him. You didn’t say anything.

Neither did he.

His hand stayed on your back, patient and warm. His presence was steady, like gravity. Like you could orbit around it and know you wouldn’t float away.

You didn’t say thank you. You didn’t apologize.

You just breathed.

“I’m not good at this,” you said after a while, voice raw.

“You’re doing fine,” he replied, without hesitation.

You looked at him.

He was already looking at you.

And in that look, there was no shame. No disappointment. Just a quiet steadiness. A kind of reverence that made your chest ache.

Like this wasn’t a burden. Like you weren’t too much. Like this moment wasn’t a failure—it was just another part of being human.

You weren’t broken.

You were just… you.

And he remembered that.

Even when you didn’t.

[stemmmm]

the scene people keep screaming about from chapter 5 of theseus' guide

[millidew]

i love you tdi 2023 reboot cast i always knew you were based. season 1 thoughts in tags

[crossbackpoke-check]

philadelphia where love goes to…..be reborn?? crazy stuff happening here!!

i-

yeah you know what, that narrative makes sense, continue 🤝 philly

[jedi-bird]

The good news from the garden today is that we're getting the first lime of the year.

The bad news is that Chava might in fact have root rot to go along with her sun damage and I'm not sure I can save her.

She is currently out of her pot. Her damaged roots have been cut away and she been set aside to dry out a bit. I'll treat her next with a fungus and pest treatment and see if that helps. If not, it looks like one of her little offshoots is still healthy so I'll try to remove them just in case (need to go get fresh soil for this and it's turning into a fight to do so).

[dearwalker]

Sex pollen - Clark Kent x reader

Word count: 3.2k

Description: When Clark gets poisoned with sex pollen, he tries everything in his power to stay away from you. Until he ends up crashing into your living room, and you have a god on his knees, with your name in his mouth and your body at his will.

Tags/warnings: smut, established relationship, clark is sorry, he gets freaky with his powers, consent kink, breaks you and worships you at the same time, begging, praising, hovering (yes hovering👀), so much dirty talk (he’s feral but sweet), overstimulation.

Note: Guess who watched superman today and got a new man to obsess about🙂‍↕️ honestly I don’t even know what took over me when I wrote this but all I can say is go ahead, live your best life and enjoy the sweet filth 🫶🏼

archive / masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━

You wake up with a loud crash coming from your living room. You jolt upright from your bed as you hear glass shatter, sprinting toward the noise. You curse as your body, only covered by Clark’s giant shirt, gets hit with the crisp midnight air as wind gushed through your apartment like a hurricane just passed by.

A figure stood where your glass door used to be, leaning weakly on what was left of the frame. You turned on the lamp next to you, illuminating your boyfriend’s stumbling body.

“Clark!?” you exclaim, confused by his abrupt arrival.

He doesn’t look up, just stands there against the frame, chest heaving, fists clenched. Like he is barely holding himself together.

Worry washes your features, something must be really wrong. You start making way over to him, but as soon as you take a step forward he puts a warning hand in front of him.

“Stop! Don’t move,” his deep voice comes out strangled, like he’s been screaming for hours. “Don’t come closer… please. Just–just stay there.”

He keeps his hand up to stop you, panting heavily as he swallowed to try to soothe his dry throat. He slowly looks up, and groans when he meets your eyes. His pupils are blown wide, dry lips parted, his breath ragged like he’s been flying across the globe. His usually perfect wavy hair is now flat, messy, sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“I didn’t want to come here,” he whines. “I–I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“What happened to you?” You ask from your spot, fighting the urge to run to his aid.

“I’ve been infected,” he chokes out, and your brows furrow more. “Some kind of … alien pollen. It hit me out there. I flew straight into it and fuck ... It’s messing with my head, my body, I…”

He suddenly turns away, pacing in small frantic circles on your balcony like he’s trying to shake something off. His hands tremble as he fights to not make eye contact, like just looking at you hurts.

“What do you need? D-do you have the antidote?” You ask, scared as hell. He never acts like this.

He just shakes his head first with a bitter laugh, only to nod frantically afterwards.

God, if only you knew.

“I tried to wait it out,” he groans, fists now in his hair. “I swear I did, my love, I locked myself away for hours … tried to fly as far as I could but I kept turning back because I could smell you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, somehow understanding what this was about.

“I can smell you, sweetheart. Even from across the city … I can hear you breathing … your heartbeat. I didn’t want to hurt you but right now I have you in front of me and I can see–dammit … I’m sorry–“

He stumbles backward like he’s ashamed of himself, like he can’t even look at you.

“You know can’t turn it off,” he whispers. “I never mean to look, I swear, but I can see you now. Everything.”

Of course you know what he means. You know he can see right past his giant shirt covering your body. And the guilt on his face is gutting. He looks like he’s trying to claw his own powers out of his skin.

“Clark… it’s okay. You don’t have to explain, ”you step forward, slowly, gently. “It’s not like we haven’t–“

“No you don’t get it!” He snaps, his voice booming through your walls so loud you were sure everyone on the block heard him. He instantly feels worse with the way you flinched to his volume. “S-sorry darling … you just don’t get it … you have no idea what it’s like to smell you and know how soft you are, how warm. My instincts are going crazy. I just need to be inside you … I need to touch you, mark you, fill you up until I can’t think straight,” he just rambles, eyes raking through your body.

You take a deep breath, his words making you clench your thighs together and he noticed. Of course you’ve had sex before. You know what he sounds like when he’s needy. But this? This is feral. You’ve never seen him like this.

But you’re willing to do anything to help him. Always.

“Clark… you don’t even have to ask,” you speak softly, your own eyes darkening with desire.

He shakes his head. You don’t even understand the amount of restraint he’s having right now.

“I do … I always do. Especially now. Because I’m not going to touch you like I should. I’m not going to make it about you. I’m going to use you. Because you’re the only one who can fix me … you are the antidote and I hate it. I hate that I can’t even think straight unless I’m inside you … I need you so bad, darling, I’m shaking–“ He cries, an actual tear comes out his desperate eyes.

You’re watching a god fall apart in front of you.

Because of you.

You finally cross the space left, and he doesn’t stop you this time. You grab his face between your hands, and kiss him without hesitation. His arms immediately cling to your frame, cold hands slipping under your shirt to roam every inch of your warm skin.

You moan into his lips, when you taste the salty tears on his face. His hands land on your ass, and he squeezes hard, bruising, making you squeal. He immediately pulls back, apologizing. Like he still can’t let himself go.

“I love you, I’m sorry–” he blurts out immediately, hands soothing the skin he pinched while he fought the urge to do it again, harder. “God I love you … and I would never hurt you. Never. I swore I’d never touch you like this. Unless you asked me to. Unless you wanted me to. So please … tell me you want this too. Say yes, or I’ll leave. I swear I will.”

He nods, frantically, like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince you.

“I’ll leave if you tell me to,” he breathes. “I’ll fly through a mountain. I’ll bury myself in the ocean. Just don’t say yes unless you want this. I’m barely holding on– if you say it, I won’t be able to stop.”

You want him. God you always want him.

The way he keeps asking makes you want him even more. Even if he’s not your Clark now. Even if he won’t take care of you like he always does. Even if you can’t breathe or move after. Because you love him too.

“I want it,” you whisper against his lips, nodding. “I want you. You need me? Use me. Take all you want … I can take it.”

It’s over.

The moment you say yes there’s no going back. He lunges forward, tightening his grip on you as he lifts you off the ground to fly you towards the wall, knocking the lamp when your back hit the wall, leaving you both in complete darkness. Only the moonlight left to shine over his hungry eyes.

His massive hand cradles the back of your head to protect it from the hit, while the other tears off your shirt like he needs your skin on his or he’ll die. Your panties don’t even last two seconds before they fly away too.

His lips hit yours. Tongue desperate, hands everywhere, so large, so shaky, everywhere at once. He groans into your mouth like a man dying of thirst finally tasting water.

“Thank you,” he gasps between kisses. “Thank you sweetheart … I’m so sorry I can’t help you first … but I need you … I need to feel you inside, please just let me…”

He knows it hurts you when he doesn’t prepare you properly, when he doesn’t make you cum at least twice on his fingers before he fucks you …but he can’t right now. Not when he can smell how soaked you are already, not when he swears it’s dripping on the carpet.

“Do it,” you pant, hungry for him. “Clark just do it … please.”

He doubts only for a second, and then without thinking he rips the suit. Literally tears it at the waist, tugging it to get rid of it completely. He’ll care about that later.

Right now he is just muscle in front of you.

His painful cock springs up, and he presses himself to you with a wet slap, your back hitting the wall again. Your pussy throbs at how impossibly huge he is over your stomach.

You’ve had him before. You’ve barely made it. You still want him to rearrange your guts.

“Feel that?” he groans. “That’s what you do to me, that’s what’s been driving me insane all day, darling.”

He’s not even pretending anymore, his cock is throbbing, massive, already leaking. He aligns himself between your soaked folds, rutting the tip against your pussy a few times like he’s lost control of his body entirely. You moan at the friction. Every nerve ending screaming.

You know he’s gonna wreck you. You weren’t ready. But at the same time you’ve never been more ready.

He grabs your thigh and lifts it against the wall, before whispering against your lips. “I’m sorry…”

He pushes his hips forward, and when he finally slides home with a snap … raw, hard, you let out a strangled scream.

One long, broken sound, high pitched and helpless, because he stretches you brutally, all at once, bottoming out with a growl. An actual growl. Like he finally felt some type of relief since he got hit with the pollen.

You fight back a cry, lunging forward to bite his shoulder. He starts fucking you into the wall as he whispers ‘I love you’ ‘thank you’ ‘sorry’ like some sort of chant. Like it’s the only thing keeping him rooted to the version of him that is still careful with you when you have sex.

Your breath leaves you in a gasp, your bare back against the cold plaster, legs around his waist, and arms clinging to his biceps for dear life. All you can do is moan as you get adjusted to his unfairly thick cock slamming in and out of you.

“Just like that … you’re taking me so well,” he pants. “You can do it, sweetheart … you’re doing so good … fuck, you were made for this … made for me.”

His hands grip your thighs. He fucks you like he’s possessed, no rhythm, no thought into it, just deep, hard thrusts that hit something devastating every time, shaking the wall with every slam of his hips.

And the whole time, he keeps whimpering into your neck.

“I love you … I’m sorry … I love you …I’m gonna ruin you …I need it…”

You think you’re about to white out when the room starts moving, but you quickly realize what’s happening.

He’s lifting your bodies off the ground.

Still fucking you.

Going up as much as your ceiling allowed him too. He pins you high on the wall when his head touches the roof, like gravity doesn’t apply anymore. It never does, not to you, not to him.

So now you’re fucking hovering. Literally. Unable to do anything but take it.

And you feel him like never before. A complete moaning mess. Nails dragging down his back, mouth open in shock as you look down to the floor. Your whole body is a live wire, and he’s fucking you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

His cock twitches inside you. He’s already close. Has been since he walked through that window. But he’s holding it, fighting it, because he needs to stay inside. Needs to keep taking. You can’t.

“Fuck Clark … I’m gonna–“

“Yes? do it … darling please, you’re doing so well. I’ve got you … cum all over this cock baby I got you.”

Your body breaks before you can breathe. Your first climax of the night hits hard, clenching down on him, while you pant into his chest. Your whole body goes limp and he feels it.

He fucks you through it. Rough thrusts with his hand stroking your back and the other wrapped under your thighs. He keeps thanking you as his cock splits you open over and over.

“I wanna give you everything,” he groans, voice cracking. “Fill you up, stuff you full of me … Can I? Please? Let me finish inside you …. let me have you–“

“Yes, yes, fill me up,” you blurt out, still seeing stars.

He slams in once more and chokes, hips locked, whole body shuddering as he comes with a moan so broken it feels like it came from his soul. He shakes as he fills you, mouth pressed to your neck.

He doesn’t pull out yet. He holds you there, trembling, pressed against the wall like he knows you’ll fall if he loosens his grip.

Even after the first wave passes, after the groans, the shaking, the desperate I love you’s, he holds you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this planet.

“…Are you okay?”

You just nod, breathless, a blissed out smile in your face. He smiles too. And then, slowly, he lowers you back down to the floor.

But he’s not soft for long. He doesn’t even give you a minute to recover. He can’t. The second round starts before the first one even finishes sinking in.

You’re still trembling in his arms, leaking down your thighs, whimpering his name into the crook of his neck. And he’s still inside you. Still painfully hard.

Still needing you.

“One more, please. Just–just one more,” he begs. “Let me have you again. Please, darling I need it.”

“Take it Clark, take all you need,” you nod, absolutely wrecked.

But what’s a few more rounds with your unearthly strong boyfriend?

He melts.

You usually go multiple rounds, but he’s softer, he gives you downtime, even brings you water in between orgasms. But right now he can’t believe the way he fucked you and you still let him have more. But he needs more. The pollen is fogging his brain.

He finally pulls out, just to set you down on the floor. The second your back hits the rug, he’s on top of you again. And god he’s heavy. Solid. He doesn’t even hold his weight like he usually does because all he’s thinking about is fucking you senseless.

He buries himself deep again, groaning, cursing under his breath. You close your eyes, nails digging the carpet, back arching when you feel him deeper from this angle. You pant small whines from the feeling.

“Shhh … don’t–“ he coos, he wants to be slow, but he can’t. His hips snap hard without even thinking. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart … so good for me… just need one more.”

You know it’s not just one more. And he fucking knows that too.

None of you cares.

“You’re so wet … so perfect” he groans, the filthy sound gushing loudly every time he thrusted. “I didn’t even give you time to come down … didn’t even let you breathe and you still take me so well”

He praises. Worships. He looks down to where your bodies meet, and he sees right through your skin. He can see his huge cock filling you with every thrust. He can see your walls clenching around him. And he looses it.

You’re suddenly running out of air when he presses his chest to yours, pining you tighter to the floor with his body as he pushes harder. And you feel all of him. The broadness of his chest against your ribs. The strain of his thighs bracketing yours. His cock still buried deep, rock hard.

You hit his bicep with your hand first, but he’s not paying attention, he’s too caught up on the way your pussy takes him to notice.

It’s not smooth. Not rhythmic. Just sharp, ragged thrusts that hit you so hard your body jerks on impact, tits bouncing, nails clawing at his back as he crushes you into the floor with every rut of his hips.

Your head starts spinning.

“Clark,” you choke out, hitting his bicep again. “I can’t–can’t breathe…”

His head finally snaps at you, eyes going wide. He lifts up a bit, but he doesn’t pull out, he just … can’t.

You finally gasp for air as he shushes you softly, tucking away the hair sticking to your sweaty forehead.

“I’m sorry … I can’t … can’t stop. I tried, I swear I tried,” his forehead presses to yours, without crushing you alive this time.

His hips don’t stop moving. You pant between moans. You’re close again, you can feel it.

“It’s okay, you’re just … you’re so big …so heavy.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m sorry, I know. I just … I don’t want to let you go–”

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t let me go.”

His expression breaks. Because he knows. And you know. He’s not really letting you go. Not all the way. He’s still pressing his weight into you, even as he tries not to. Because he needs to. Because letting go means losing you, even just for a second.

He doesn’t know what takes over him, he grabs your hands and pins them above your head. Watching you sob, moan, eyes rolling back, skin already bruising in multiple places by his grip. He’s not like this. He should be apologizing. Begging. But you just feel so damn good.

And you like it, god you love it.

“I–I love it when you fuck me like this,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper, dumb smile on your face as he hits that spot repeatedly. “I just- I can’t…”

“I know darling, I know … just a little more,” he groans. “One more please. You can take it …you’re doing so good.” He soothes, but he can’t slow down, not when you’re clenching him like that.

He picks up the pace.

“C-Clark … please, I’m gonna-“

“I’ve got you, darling …I’ve got you, let yourself go for me.”

You see white this time. You’re not even moaning anymore. Just gasping. Twitching. Letting him take what he needs because you want to. Because this is Clark, your Clark, and you’d give him your whole body a thousand times if he needed it.

And he does.

He fucks you like you’re his last breath.

Even after you’re wrecked, limp, twitching … he keeps going.

You don’t even remember the next time he finishes. Or the time after that. Or where it happened. Your body is a mess, trembling and raw and wet and full. Marked. Praised.

All while he keeps saying, “Just one more … just let me stay inside you a little longer… please sweetheart, I’m still hard I know you can take it … this is the last time I promise…”

Again and again. You’ve never heard him lie so much before.

Yet still, with your hair splayed, legs shaking, literal tears leaking from the corners of your eyes from the pleasure, the pain, the strain, the goddamn pollen he pumps into your body every time he comes…

You are having the time of your life being drunk on his cock.

“Fuck me harder.”

You beg, even when you can’t feel it anymore. Maybe that’s why you need it harder … deeper.

And because you knew that once he came back to normal he wouldn’t fuck you like this again. And he makes sure to let you know.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I’m hurting you. I just need you so fucking much … I love you I love you I love you—”

You just nod, because it hurts embarrassingly good.

You lose count of how many times he comes in total. How many times you come. You only know time’s passed when the sky starts to lighten outside your broken window, and Clark is rocking into you so slowly it’s more like he’s just holding you in place, his mouth pressed to your shoulder, whispering thank you with every lazy thrust.

By the time he finally slows down, finally wears the substance out of his body after dumping it all inside you … you can’t move. You’re limp in his arms, boneless and dripping and his.

Your bed feels incredibly soft in contrast to all the spots he fucked you on last night.

You’re draped across his chest, tracing the muscles under his bare skin. His fingers are in your hair. Barely moving, just tracing small patterns. Soothing you like he didn’t cause all the pain in your body.

You’re still trembling a little. Just from… after. Your body’s still echoing with everything he gave you. Everything he took.

Worth it.

Clark kisses your temple. He hasn’t stopped kissing you every few minutes. It’s like he’s trying to apologize without saying it. Like he’s trying to prove that he’s still the man you love, the man who flinches when he bumps your head by accident, who picks you flowers and gets flustered when you kiss him in public. The one who always put you first in bed.

Not the one who just broke the sound barrier flying to your apartment because his cock told him to.

“…I broke your window,” he finally breaks the silence, a chuckle makes his chest vibrate against your ear.

“Clark … you broke a lot more than my window.”

You both start giggling … glowing. Your throat hurts, you’re sore, probably can’t even walk today or the whole week, and somehow, it feels like the safest place on Earth.

“I love you,” he whispers. “So much.”

“I know,” you whisper back. “You said it like 87 times while destroying me.”

⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

I created a blog dedicated to Superman, where I’ll be posting my writing for him from now on 🫶🏼 so if you wanna check it out, go to -> @404superman

Feedback and sharing is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading <3

[xplicitviewz]

“Who’s calling?” Your husband, Nanami, huffs from above you, his hips snapping into you. Your teary eyes glance at your phone while you let out small whimpers. “I-it’s our son.” You breathe out, your thighs tremble beneath his hands holding them down beside you.

Nanami groans and stuffs his dick fully into you, a whine escaping your lips as he picks up the phone. Between his work schedule and your 4 kids, there isn’t time for you and your husband to partake in a your shared activities other than the few times you guys got creative.

There was this one time you guys had your oldest watch the kids while you guys went to the pharmacy to pick up some medicine, which ended in a quickie in the dark parking lot before heading home.

Or the other time you guys had a pool day and you went inside to start getting the snacks ready. Nanami followed shortly after to have himself his own quick snack. Both of your days are pretty busy, but Nanami never fails to make some time for you and your pussy. You can admit sex hasn’t really been a priority, until tonight. Upon realizing all the kids would be gone, you immediately called Nanami to be sure he brings his ass home when he is off and not do any overtime- yes you used your mom voice too. Nanami agreed not wanting to be scolded.

When he did get home, he noticed a few things, there was any tv on, or music blasting from your two oldest rooms. There weren’t toys scattered in the living room or the dining room table from your two youngest, no yelling or screaming from all of them in general, it was just quiet. He smelt food in the air, he usually does every night he comes home but it’d be already eaten, or everyone will be eating at the dinner table (he insists not to wait for him because he often stays late) but since he left early from work, it isn’t ready just yet. He quickly rushes up the stairs, starting to feel the panic seep in just a bit, all the kids rooms are empty.

He opens his shared bedroom to see you just laying on your stomach, in the silky robe he got you, reading a book. He calms down because if you were okay, surely, the kids were too. His eyes gaze down your figure, your feet are in the air crossed, while you read. The robe sits at your upper thigh, and since it’s so thin, your ass pops out in the most desirable way possible. “Honey?” He eyes you suspiciously, taking a breath as he starts to settle down, “Where are the kids.”

You heard the front door shut, squeezing your thighs together, feeling the arousal hit you even more. The book you have been reading had been in your mind, and hearing your husband come home really made you ready to take him, full. You had dinner cooking in the oven, almost ready to serve for just Nanami and you. Your oldest son is at a movie with his friends and they are going to go eat after. Your second oldest daughter is spending the night with her best friend, and your two youngest are sleeping over with their grandparents. To say you were practically rushing your oldest son to leave already, since he was the last one to go, was an understatement.

“They are busy and safe.” You closed the book and turn your body towards him, your eyes hungry before you looked at him, but damn near starving when you did. That damn suit and tie. You explained where they all were as you sat up in the bed, impulsively pushing your chest out as you leaned back on your arms. Nanami didn’t ignore the lustful look in your eye, the way your nipples perked against the thin fabric, only assuming you had nothing on underneath. He quickly put a few things together, why you called him to not do overtime. He knew what his wife wanted, at least he thought so.

When your sweet loving husband started off kissing your neck, waiting to use the few hours to just worship your body, you, your hands cupped his chin and looked him dead in the eye, “Honey, I love you so much and I know that you do but tonight-right now I need you to fuck me like you don’t. I want y-“ His eyes darkens more at your plea, how desperate you were truly. How can he ever say no to his gorgeous wife. He cuts you off with a kiss before he started fucking you every way loose. Yes exactly what I said. But of course no matter what time it is, you guys are parents after all….

“What?” Nanami answers the call, still buried deep inside you, grinding against you as his thumb circles your clit.

“..Oh Hey dad, where’s mo-“

“She’s busy, are you okay, why are you blowing up her phone?” Nanami cuts your son off, his eyes focused on you squirming around, biting your lip to keep any lewd sounds hushed while he was on the phone with your son. He speeds up his movements on your clit, softly sucking in a breath when you clench tightly around his dick.

“I wanna buy some snacks and get some food after the movie, mom said she’ll send me m-“

“How much?” Nanami asked wanting him to get to the point so he can get back to his wife. He slowly pulling out before pushing himself back in. Your hand quickly covers your mouth as you shut your eyes. Your legs were shaking crazy. Your husband wasn’t one to always be rough in bed, but the times he is, you would feel it for days, in the best way possible. (He has that dog in him😞) Nanami definitely isn’t holding back, not when it’s been this long you guys were kid free for a few hours and together at that. Nanami was making up for lost time, fingering you until you couldn’t talk properly, eating your pussy like it personally offended him, fucking you left, right, up, down, diagonal, all up until your phone kept blowing up.

“Like about $40.”

“Okay, give me a moment.” Nanami grunts, as he bottoms out again, the way you squeezed his dick nearly knocked him out cold. He feels his dick throb inside you and pulls the phone away from his ear, breathing heavy.

“Thanks d-“

Nanami hangs up the phone and tosses it beside you before leaning in closer to you, peeling your hand away from your mouth and pulling it above your head. “Tell me something honey.” He hums kissing your swollen lips.

You whimper as he fucks you again, slow but rough this time, ”y-yes?” You gasp as he hits your cervix.

“When the kids ask for money, do you send it to them from my account?” He looks into your eyes, sweat dripping down his head watching your reaction to his question really his dick.

You’re screwed. Both literally and physically.

“Not alwa- o-ooh shit.” You moan, his hips moving faster than light. Nanami absolutely hates when you use your own money, hell, even when you were working. When you guys first started dating he already knew you were going to be his wife. Nanami would always say you didn’t need to work but you didn’t want him to be the sole provider. Eventually, you guys moved in together and you were still working. Though, he convinced you to work less hours and took you out on a date when you agreed. It wasn’t until you got pregnant with your first baby, did his wish come true. Shit, he was more excited when you both went down to your job to quit than he was to see the 2 pink lines.

“All the hours I work, being kept away from our family, my perfect wife -ngghh- my perfect wife’s pussy. And you still insist on usi-fuck- using your own money when you have access to my money- no our money, shit your money.” He moans grabbing your other hand and pulling it above your head with your other.

“Y-you pay for e-ever-“

“I’m supposed to baby. I want to.” He interrupts you, lifting your legs to his shoulders, and grabbing your phone with his free hand and sending your son $100 from his account. “Why must you make things complicated, love. I am the man, it’s my job to take care of you, our family. Let *thrust* me. Use my money for the kids, the house, the cars, whatever it is, I have enough, more than.” He kisses your lips softly, opposite to his thrusts. “Use your money I give you for you, whatever you want for you- shit for you. Everything I do is for you, everything I make, it’s yours, ours on paper, but it’s all yours. All for you.” He grunts into your ear, as if he’s teaching a lesson. Technically, he is.

“Don’t let me find out you aren’t using my money first again, okay hun?” He hums at you, a moaning teary mess.

“Now where were we?” He smiles before pulling out and flipping you on your stomach, lifting your ass up and spanking it. “Oh, right.” He chuckles as he spreads your cheeks apart, seeing your drooling sensitive pussy, clenching on air.

*edited but not proofread*

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