#I LOVE THIS RICKETY OLD FUCK

[groovyangelkisses]

just need to give old man logan some love yk, let him rest his head on some titties and bandage his wounds and also suck his dick

oh i understand you completely, sweetpea! i hope you enjoy my thoughts on your headcanons! ᡣ𐭩

nsfw (minors do NOT interact, please)— age gap (all my readers are 21+!), oral (male recieving), objectification of female body parts, tad bit of dacryphilia & dumbification, "kid" used as an affectionate nickname, logan being infatuated <3

logan is absolutely a tits man, i don't make the rules! he loves to watch them heave in your suit when you're out of breath on a mission, or bouncing as you descend the stairs— you name it, his eyes are occupied with you. a lot of times you catch him staring down your shirt, whispering to himself "so soft" as he ogles your cleavage. and when you're sitting away from him, back facing him as you rest on a rickety wooden chair, watching out of the window, he'll come up behind you, big hands gripping your chest harshly in his warm, calloused palms before tutting "missed my girls" with a big squeeze. <3

and you bandaging him after a mission gone wrong? he'll whine out "ah jesus christ- i'm fine doll, really" and you'll fuss over him even more.... but guess what? he secretly loves when you fuss over him. giving him all your attention and touching him so gently while scolding him for getting himself hurt. granted, he will heal instantly because of his mutation, but just imagine him getting a random nose bleed in the middle of the night. you cooing "oh honey, lemme help you" and, like always, he'll feel like he needs to push the love away, but he'll relent for you. always and only for you. he'll sit on the toilet seat lid, one leg extended out in the small bathroom while his other stays bent so you can sit on it. he likes seeing your eyes widen, hearing your little gasps and the sweet, genuine hearts in your eyes when you get to hold him and provide for him for once. and he just can't stop himself, squeezing your ass and thighs as you hold the tissue to his nose "'m all better now babydoll, promise. see?" before raising his hand to the back of your neck and lightly pulling you forward, the ghost of a "c'mon gimme a kiss... so good to me... so good to your old man" on his lips. ahhhh!!!!!

and when it comes to head? logan is sooooo cocky. i mean, naturally he loves how sweet you are to him; how absolutely and utterly loving and obsessed you are with him. and trust me, he feels the exact same way, maybe even a little more than you, too. he'd absolutely hold your cheeks in his palms, cradling you as you suckle at him with teary eyes and red knees. his thumbs will rub against the apple of your cheeks, and he'll do his best to hold eye contact, even though he desperately feels the need to flutter his eyelids and groan so loud that the entire ground shakes. manspreading, he'll move and jut his hips out with a hiss, whispering "fuckin' good, always so fuckin' good... you hearin me, kid?" and that's when he'll notice the stars in your eyes. sure, you always look at him with a dazed gaze, able to let down your guard and fully be in your element from dating such an intimidating, but gentle and masculine man. but this, this is a different look. a look that shows just how far gone you are. spit on your chin, tears on your cheeks and some of his precum resting on the tip of your nose. so dumb for him. this alone makes him cry out, his head rolling back, his thick neck stretching & his eyes squeezing shut after he finally can't take anymore and tears them away from you with an "ah, ah fuck ah fuck!" as he finishes with his hands holding your head completely still— wanting you to take him all. and once he catches his breath, his hands stay there, a gruff "cmon baby.. cmon eat me up, know you can" until you swallow for him... <3

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ build-a-fic 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

➴ chose a line of dialogue, an emotion and a setting (a number, letter, + a creature), and write/request to your heart’s content!

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ a piece of dialogue

꒰ 1 ꒱ “i can’t fucking believe this.”

꒰ 2 ꒱ “what they said back there. is it true?”

꒰ 3 ꒱ “it’s not safe here anymore- we need to leave. now!”

꒰ 4 ꒱ “you know how much i care about you.”

꒰ 5 ꒱ “they’re never going to hurt you again.”

꒰ 6 ꒱ “here, let’s get you warmed up.”

꒰ 7 ꒱ “i didn’t do it. please, you have to believe me!”

꒰ 8 ꒱ “i’m taking you home, and that’s that.”

꒰ 9 ꒱ “do you trust me?”

꒰ 10 ꒱ “i can’t sleep either. mind if i join you?”

꒰ 11 ꒱ “you’re not your worst mistake.”

꒰ 12 ꒱ “try and eat, if you can. it’ll make you feel better.”

꒰ 13 ꒱ “i say this with all the love in my heart, but you look like shit.”

꒰ 14 ꒱ “they’re going to surround us. we need to get ready.”

꒰ 15 ꒱ “i need you to leave.”

꒰ 16 ꒱ “we can’t be seen together like this. not anymore.”

꒰ 17 ꒱ “it’s dangerous. i need you to know that before you agree.”

꒰ 18 ꒱ “it’s just one night- surely sharing a bed for that long won’t kill us.”

꒰ 19 ꒱ “it’s getting dark, we should think about heading back.”

꒰ 20 ꒱ “what have i told you about coming here?!”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ an emotion

꒰ A ꒱ disdain

꒰ B ꒱ grief

꒰ C ꒱ ecstasy

꒰ D ꒱ disbelief

꒰ E ꒱ anxiety

꒰ F ꒱ contentment

꒰ G ꒱ drunkenness

꒰ H ꒱ enjoyment

꒰ I ꒱ confusion

꒰ J ꒱ fear

꒰ K ꒱ hunger

꒰ L ꒱ relief

꒰ M ꒱ distrust

꒰ N ꒱ fondness

꒰ O ꒱ delight

꒰ P ꒱ hurt

꒰ Q ꒱ love

꒰ R ꒱ sickness

꒰ S ꒱ exhaustion

꒰ T ꒱ betrayal

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ a setting

꒰ 𓆉 ꒱ the corner bed in a hospital ward

꒰ 𓅨 ꒱ a spare bedroom

꒰ 𓆣 ꒱ an alleyway behind a dive bar

꒰ 𓃰 ꒱ a mountainside shrouded in fog

꒰ 𓃗 ꒱ a skeevy motel just off the highway

꒰ 𓃱 ꒱ a barren industrial plant in the middle of nowhere

꒰ 𓃟 ꒱ the lush, indulgent foyer of a member’s only club

꒰ 𓆟 ꒱ the war room of a military blacksite

꒰ 𓆈 ꒱ the produce aisle of a 24/7 supermarket

꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ the bedside of someone who doesn’t want you there

꒰ 𓅟 ꒱ the walk-in fridge of a failing restaurant

꒰ 𓃵 ꒱ a rickety old barn’s hayloft

꒰ 𓃓 ꒱ at work, far later than you should be

꒰ 𓆌 ꒱ a stranger’s bed at dawn

꒰ 𓆏 ꒱ an airplane hanger

꒰ 𓅭 ꒱ a medical bay that stinks of antiseptic and fear

꒰ 𓆗 ꒱ the kitchen of a derelict house

꒰ 𓃢 ꒱ the dressing room of a luxury department store

꒰ 𓆧 ꒱ the place where grassy plains meet desert dunes

꒰ 𓃔 ꒱ a beach at low tide

[frogchiro]

OK so I'm totally backpacking off of some other ask about ovulating y/n and octo!König, but hear me out.

Butcher-Slasher!Ghost has a very strong sense of smell and he picked up a small whiff of y/n ovulating as she's getting her monthly supply meat from his butcher shop. Home boy had to root himself to his spot or he would've jumped over the counter to breed y/n in the middle of his store in broad daylight at the busiest time of the week.

We all know Ghost only has two thoughts on his head and it's to breed y/n and to protect y/n. Ghost over here with 2 brain cells and both revolve around y/n 😂😂 Like a lost fucking puppy without y/n to hold his. hand.

And now we're getting to this baby ;; I was rereading this the whole day and I won't lie, my ovaries did a flip ;;

Butcher!Ghost who has a very keen nose and while he obviously knew and loved how you smell, so warm and soft, today you smelled...a little bit off. Obviously you didn't stink or anything! But,, somehow you smelled a little warmer, more sweet and cloying and Simon swears he almost jumped you right there in the middle of the day in his own shop with people present when he realized what it was- you were ovulating.

It was like a flip of a switch and suddenly every single primal instinct in him started basically roaring for him to take you, shove his thick lengthy cock inside you and empty his heavy pulsing balls deep inside you, his swollen red tip right against your precious cervix and making sure his seed sticks. And it would, it fucking surely would, especially now with your soft body basically screaming that you're ready to breed with him :((

Instead you just smiled at him all sweet and polite like you always do and asked him if he liked the cherry crumble cake you gifted him last week after he left you some particularly good cuts of meat and he, like always, replied in that gravely tone of his that of course it was good because it always is; you're an amazing cook and even better baker, his thoughts returning for a second back into his fantasies about you, all heavy and swollen with his offspring, in a pretty loose dress with an apron tied around your swollen waist as you bake a cake for him, the domesticity of it almost making him hard under his bloodied white apron.

And, like fucking always, you give him another sweet smile of yours before you bid him your goodbye and walk out of the shop to run further errands. Ohhh if you only knew what you do to him, especially in your current state. Later that night Simon was in his rickety old bed in the small apartment above his shop, jerking off like he was in heat, all growly and frustrated and angry :(( He thrusted his strong, broad hips upwards, chasing the feeling of his tightly closed fist, his potent thick sperm leaking out of his tip like a faucet, the remains of two orgasms were cooling on his hairy belly and chest and yet his balls were still heavy and aching, his thick cock pulsing with the need to be shoved inside your cunt but all he had was his fantasy of breeding you all night with a pillow shoved under your broad hips to ensure his seed would stick </3

[gallaghersgal]

𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐥𝐢𝐩 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫

pairing: lip gallagher x fem!reader

summary: just lip being a cute bf + debbie and ian being little shits

warnings: lowercase on purpose. poorly written tbh. swearing but y’all know how it is. heavily unedited. gen said yolo so i’m posting

A/N: i’ve been on hiatus for god knows how long but my roommate and i started watching shameless and i can’t get this mfer out of my head. things w school and life are hard rn so i just wrote this comfy cozy little thing in my notes app. yolo asf.

wordcount: probably like 500 or less idk i wrote it in my notes app at 1am

— — — — — — — — — — —

you’re nestled in lip’s arms, high up on his rickety top bunk. somewhere between finishing your nails and kissing until you could barely breathe, you had fallen asleep right against his chest.

you stirred now, your cozy world interrupted a squeaky little voice. “are you in love with her?” debbie questions.

lip shushes his sister, “be quiet, she’s sleeping.”

you were wide awake now, but much too comfortable to move and make that little fact known. plus, you wanted to hear his answer.

“i asked you a question dummy. are you in love with her?”

lip stutters, “i-i dunno. i really like her, okay?”

you’re satisfied with that answer. “in love” was a little too much too quick. but “really like” was something that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“what d’ya like about her?” ian presses.

you can practically hear the gears turning in lip’s head as his siblings impatiently await a response.

“she’s- i dunno, she’s pretty?” lip replies. you hold back a scowl, annoyed at him for not having a better answer.

“yeah, great rack,” debbie comments.

“jesus, deb!” lip’s head falls back in frustration, one hand coming to cradle your head as not to wake you with the sudden motion.

“cut the shit lip,” ian interrupts. “tell us what you really think.”

you hold your breath as you wait for his response. his lips brush your hairline before he sighs. “she’s sweet, yeah? real kind.”

“a real woman of the people,” ian snorts, “princess diana type.” then “ow!” as you hear debbie shove him.

“and- and she’s real smart, too,” lip continues. “really, really fuckin’ smart. an’ she works hard. she just tires herself out sometimes.”

he strokes your hair gently, pressing a few more fleeting kisses to your forehead.

“you’re so whipped.”

you hear debbie shove her brother again, and this time ian fights back, the two making a ruckus as they push each other back and forth.

“come on guys, out. now.” lip orders his siblings around with that same stern voice you’ve heard plenty of times before.

debbie pouts. “but-“

“no buts. go on, she’s fuckin’ sleepin’ in here an’ you’re gonna wake her up. fuck off.”

“we were just-“

“fuck. off.”

“jesus,” you can practically hear ian roll his eyes. “alright, alright. we’re going.”

debbie yells for fiona as the two shuffle out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind them.

you smirk to yourself as lip groans above you, showing your cards. “you’re awake?”

you peer up at him through your lashes, a smirk planted on your lips that he’s just dying to kiss off. “can’t believe your little sister said i have a great rack,” you whisper.

lip laughs, loud and genuine. “yeah, she’s been stuffing fi’s old training bras. growin’ up an’ shit. i don’t like it.”

you’re quiet for a moment, admiring him. you know how important those kids are to him. he’d do just about anything for them, including the minor crimes you find him tangled up in on a weekly basis. he loves them like they’re his own kids, which honestly they kind of are. they may shove each other around, curse each other out, yell and scream at the top of their lungs, but at the end of the day lip has been more of a father to his siblings than frank ever was.

“you really meant all that?” you ask.

lip looks down at you, his blue eyes soft in the dim light. “yeah. yeah, i did. meant every word.”

you smile, leaning up to place a solid kiss on his lips. “for what it’s worth,” you murmur, “i really like you too.”

[bunni-v1]

Could I ask for your headcanons on how the staff would take care of/look after the reader? I’m a sucker for the fics where they take a parental role

How The Staff Takes Care of You

TW: None!

Info: Crowley, Crewel, Trein, Vargas and Sam x Reader (Platonic)

🍓This one is short but sweet. I’ve spent a lot of time on the event, but I want to start on other requests outside of it too. This one looked fun and easy so I got it out within about an hour or so. I hope you enjoy!

Tags: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck

Crowley

-Lets get one thing straight, Crowley does not take care of you

-It’s hard to even say that Crowley cares for you. It’s hard to say he cares for anyone other than himself.

-Still… he does do some things correctly.

-He gives you a place to live (which he threatened to take away), food (which he threatened to take away), and funding (which he… threatened to take away).

-He DOES come to ACTUALLY care for you, just… not in the traditional sense, I suppose. 

-He has frequent check ins with you to ensure that you are doing well.

-Occasionally he stops by ramshackle just to chat with you and ensure you have company.

-Believe it or not, he set up a lot of the things you do specifically so that he can ensure you are getting along with other students and have a support system here.

-He lets you keep grim around — even though he has cause countless issues for student and staff alike.

-He’s like your weird uncle. You hardly ever actually see Crowley around, but you know that he is looking out for you in his own way. 

-Thats all that matters, right?

Crewel

-Crewel is also anther oddball when it comes to how he shows that he cares.

-He is… aware that Crowley does not do a very good job at caring for you, and he’s a bit easier on you because of that.

-He’s probably harder on you homework-wise than most other students though.

-He wants to see you excel and succeed in his class.

-It would be the biggest fuck you to Crowley ever, so he works hard to make sure that you prove yourself to everyone.

-He makes sure that you’re sleeping and eating well, and if he sees that you are not, he makes you stay ofter class to talk to him so you both can find a way to solve this issue.

-If it’s money issues keeping you from eating, don’t worry. He’s now making you a lunch — or at least he gives you some money to eat.

-The nicest thing he does for you, however, is he gets you clothes.

-Your uniform is pretty… bad, and he feels bad for you.

-So, he takes matters into his own hands and gets you a nice new one that actually fits you.

-He and Trein have a rivalry over who treats you better and who you like more. (Trein is winning by like one point and it drives Crewel crazy).

-Crewel very much is the one to tell you “Boys are stupid, don’t date — especially not the ones here.” Lol

-Again, more like a very ambitious uncle who just really loves his family but never wants kids of his own.

-Oh, also, his dogs love you. So that’s a plus.

Trein

-He has two girls of his own, and he really does love kids, he’s just… jaded from years of being a teacher for snotty kids like Ace.

-You though? He likes you a lot.

-You’re a troublemaker, sure, but you always try your best in classes and have been making the best of your situation.

-Speaking of, Trein hates the way Crowley is so lackadaisical about your position and treatment.

-You are a living person? How could he just leave you to almost starve or freeze in your rickety old dorm?

-Trein visits your dorm frequently after his school day is done, just to ensure you have food and are able to stay warm/cool in the respective seasons.

-If he finds that you do not have enough food or cannot afford it, he talks to both Sam and Crowley and scolds them into lowering prices for you and raising your passive income.

-He still buys you things with his own money.

-If you fall asleep in class and you look like you need it, he won’t bother you. 

-Tells you that you can always come to him if you’re having trouble with anyone, and he will most definitely deal with them.

-Do you need extra help with homework, he’ll stay late just to ensure you’re understanding the material. 

-Seriously the number one dad at NRC, and he’s really happy to have you around since you remind him so much of his girls.

Vargas

-The resident promoter of a healthy lifestyle and great workout routine at NRC.

-You don’t really spend that much time around Vargas, so you two aren’t close, but he knows about you through the other members of staff.

-He knows how Crowley treats you, and while he isn’t one to play favorites… he can make an exception.

-Especially since he knows you aren’y always eating enough thanks to your limited budget.

-The last thing he needs is a student passing out in his class.

-He still pushes you to work out and participate, but if you’re looking like a ghost when you walk into class he’s going to make you go change and get some rest.

-He’s a gym nut, not a monster.

-He’s good with dieting though, so he’s able to tell Trein and Crewel and Same what would be best for you to eat in your condition.

-So yeah, he’s likely the least involved in your life, but he does help you from behind the scenes.

-It’s better than Crowley, so that’s a win in his books.

Sam

-Other than Trein, Sam probably sees you the most frequently out of everyone.

-You come into his shop at least once a day for something.

-At first he treated you the same as every other student, charing you ridiculously hight prices for typically cheap stuff.

-Then one day you came in looking for something to eat, cause you’d run out of what little Crowley gave you, but you didn’t have enough money.

-He nearly cried at how heartbroken you looked when you realized you couldn’t get anything.

-He gave you the whole meal for free, didn’t even ask for what you had.

-Trein is also on his ass about how high his prices are, so he purposefully has a “discount” every time you’re there to buy something.

-He also gets to know you through your shopping and makes and effort to talk to you to feel out where you are physically and mentally.

-He reports what he notices back to Trein and Crowley, just to make sure someone who has the power to is taking care of you.

-You’ve got a friend in Sam, that’s for sure.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (29/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Another glimpse of Charles' mind - and honey, that boy is down bad.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of dry humping, sex and oral sex), angst, but make it hot

Word Count: 3k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: LETS FUCKING GO LANDO!!! CHEERS BABE I LOVE YOU! feedback is appreciated!

Charles is so glad to be sitting in the rickety Renault again. He can feel the individual springs through the thin fabric of the seat and the few cracks in the steering wheel feel wonderfully familiar in his calloused hands. As soon as you both arrive at his mother's house, he would text Andrea and thank him for picking up the car with him at the old apartment.

It takes immense willpower for him to let his hand rest either on the gear stick between you or on the steering wheel, because he'd love to slide his ringed fingers over the fabric of your jeans on your thigh. Or hold your hand. Touch you somehow. 

It's as if he's addicted to your touch. As if the warmth of your skin, the softness of your body were a drug that he couldn't get enough of after the first real contact. And all he can think about is how good your skin felt against his. 

He regrets a little that the first time was in a terrible situation that both he and you would like to forget. He remembers how your body shook as you lay on your bed in just your underwear and cried. How you didn't even realize Charles had entered the room because literally everything was out of control. And for sure, after what he did and the words he threw at you, Charles had no right to comfort you and hold you in his arms. 

And although his head warned him to stay away from you, his body fought back and, without hesitation, lay with you, pulled you close and held you while you cried yourself to sleep. And when you sobbed his name, with a broken voice and a deep-seated, audible pain, his brain had completely shut down, which is why he couldn't say anything other than "I'm here as long as you'll let me".  

But he had already realized beforehand that there would be no turning back. He already knew at dinner with his friends that all he would ever want would be you as soon as you touched him. When you pressed your leg against his to show him that you were there for him, when he was asked about Annika, and for a moment it felt as if he had caught a spark of fire and it had sunk through his jeans and burnt him. But it was just the warmth of your skin that he could feel despite the layers of fabric. And when he wasn't sure if it was actually you, he'd suggested sharing the tiramisu so he could be closer to you. 

And when he not-so-accidentally pressed his chest against your back to reach the tiramisu in your hand, he got so warm he thought he was going to have a heat stroke. 

He had a similar experience the night he woke up because you breathed his name in your sleep and pressed your butt against him. The morning when he had to flee from bed because he feared he would provoke a heart attack if he allowed you to rub against him and then had to suppress his urge to touch you. There's no question that he was only thinking about you in the shower when he touched himself. 

But nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. When he wrapped his arm around you and intertwined your fingers to show you that he was there for you. The warmth he'd felt earlier through the clothes you'd been wearing had been pleasant. Your skin on his felt more like a burn, as if he'd put his hand on a hotplate that was switched on, as if he'd been lying in the sun too long without sunscreen and got burnt. As if you were the sun he got too close to. You burned into his skin with your touch - and never in his life has he loved heat as much as he did at that moment. 

That night, he held you as tightly as if he could suck the pain from your body and absorb it into himself. True, Charles had struggled just as much after realizing that the man who hurt the woman in his arms was the very man his own girlfriend had cheated on him with, but he'd swallowed that and shrugged it off the moment he'd seen the fear in your eyes as he climbed the steps to the apartment and saw you both standing in the hallway. 

You had been his priority and he wanted to protect you as best he could, even if he couldn't undo any of what had happened. He can't change the fact that Raphael betrayed you and he can't take away the pain that this breach of trust caused you. He can't undo the fact that he said all those cruel things to you because he was jealous of Lando, because you took him to your heart so quickly - who you touched without hesitation - and he couldn't keep his feelings under control. Charles can't change any of that. 

But the night he held you while you cried all the tears you had inside you, he vowed to protect you from anything that could hurt you. He swore to take care of you as best he could and to make your life easier if he could. He swore that he would never be the cause of your pain again. 

And even though your touch feels like a warm sunburn to him, like a hot ray of sunshine and like happiness itself, he vowed to see you as none other than his girlfriend, his roommate, who deserves far better than a jealous Charles who can't give you what you need to be happy. 

He can't assure you that he'll always be there for you when you need him. His job doesn't allow that. There's no way he can always be with you to hold you when you're sad. It's so incredibly unfair to ask you to wait for him. He can't give you the time the both of you need to build an adult, good and above all healthy relationship. And it would be irresponsible to plunge you into this life where the public would run their mouths about the couple just because you were a couple. He would give you anything you asked of him, but never would he put you in a situation that would hurt you.

He would protect you. The girl who lay quietly in his arms and cried until she fell asleep. The girl who turned his whole world upside down in the space of a few days. The girl who his mother thought was his girlfriend, which he didn't want to correct because he secretly wished that was the reality. 

The girl who was gracious enough to forgive him for his actions and stayed by his side despite his name and the hurdles his friendship would bring, even insisting on staying there come what may. The girl who helped him move on from his toxic relationship with his ex by burning it all. 

The night had been cleansing. With each piece of the relationship you both threw into the flames, the weight on Charles' shoulders lightened until it disappeared completely with the last burnt petal. He thought it was only fair to tell you that Raphael was the guy who had destroyed both your relationship and his. And although Charles could tell you were more upset by this fact than you might like to admit, he felt closer to you than ever before. 

You promised him that there would be a soulmate for him in this world. Someone with whom he doesn't have to pretend and can be who he really is. And after his body once again asserted itself against his brain and pulled you on top of him so that you could cuddle - strictly as friends - you fell asleep on top of him. And while he scratched your head, felt your warm breath on his neck and enjoyed the weight of your body on his, he wondered why he got the feeling that he had already found this person when he looked at you.

"Is she asleep?" Joris asked quietly and stood in front of the fire bowl, his hands outstretched to get some warmth. Charles nodded barely perceptibly. He would never risk you waking up and pulling away from him because of one of his movements. His heart couldn't take that. 

"Yes," he breathes without sound. 

Joris looks into the fire. "She's good for you. And you seem to be good for her too." When Charles looks at him, a little confused, Joris shrugs. "She just said to me that you're her best friend."

Charles couldn't explain why his heart momentarily stopped working, only to break into many pieces on the next beat. Although he had decided for himself not to let your relationship go any further than a friendship would allow, and the constant closeness and constant touching was certainly not exactly conducive to that, somewhere deep inside Charles had had a small spark of hope that perhaps something else could become of you at some point. 

But that spark had gone out. 

Charles avoided his oldest friend's gaze, staring into the blazing flames. Why did it hurt him so much? Wasn't that exactly what he wanted?

"Charles?" Joris tried to catch the Monegasque's gaze, but he stubbornly refused to look away from the fire. "Do you love her?" 

Charles didn't know whether it was the hot fire in front of him that was making his eyes water. He felt the drops burn on his lash line before he blinked and they rolled painfully down his cheek like acid. 

He didn't look at Joris. 

Best friend. Two words and a bitter aftertaste that stuck so disgustingly to his tongue when he said them to your face. They made his stomach ache and he would have liked to break away from you so he wouldn't have to endure it anymore. But he is your best friend. And he swore to himself that he would never hurt you again. So he can't help but endure this burning closeness, this torture of being with you but not being able to do anything. 

He fell asleep with you, body pressed against body, and he would endure that heat for all time if it meant you were safe. And even though he was aware of the fact that he was nothing more to you than your best friend, that didn't stop his heart from doing a little skip when he tried to break away from you to go jogging and you wrapped yourself around his arm. 

He blamed it on your tiredness, that you wanted to keep him there. That you weren't in your right mind when you reminded him that it was his suggestion to share a bed because it would help you sleep better, and then you kissed his bare chest. Kissed. 

His brain, which must have had a bit of a lapse as a result, didn't seem to be working properly when he admitted that he'd even said he'd always hold her in his arms. And it wasn't working properly when you wrapped your leg around his waist to pull him closer to you. It seemed like a miracle that he had finally managed to pull away from you and get dressed after all.

First the left sock, then the right. The shirt is on the -

When you wrapped your arms around him and called him Sharl, it was over. Something inside him had short-circuited. He's not even sure what exactly he said to you anymore. The only thing he remembers is how he pulled you onto his lap. How he hoped you'd give him a sign so he could give you back some of what he'd stopped dreaming about. 

And you moaned his name as he rocked you over his erection. Clinging to him like he was all you would ever need. Charles would have loved to throw you back on the bed - the bed you share as friends - and kiss you. He would have undressed you and let his mouth roam over your body, hoping that his touch would burn on your skin as much as yours burns on his. He would have devoured you, latching his mouth onto your pussy and tasting you until you came on his tongue. You would have clawed your fingers in his hair, rubbed your pussy against his mouth and moaned his name. And then he would have taken you, slowly at first so you'd get used to him, and meanwhile he would have kissed you so you could taste yourself on his tongue before he ruined you for any men who might come after him who weren't your best friend. 

But the only thing he could do was cup your chin and make you look at him while you moved back and forth on his hard-on yourself. He would never forget the look in your eyes, that pleading look as his cock bumped against your clit and lightning flashed through his veins, electrifying him. 

You begged him and he vowed to give you anything that would make you happy. And if that meant splitting you in half and making you come on his tongue, his fingers and his cock so many times until you couldn't remember his name or your own, he would have given it to you without hesitation.

And then his fucking phone rang.

He would have loved to slam it against the wall and kill Andrea for interrupting that moment. But when you slipped off his lap, he dressed quickly and his blood rushed back into his brain, he was even a little grateful. What if you had slept together and you hadn't wanted to be friends with him afterwards?

He was so happy when you reassured him that everything was fine between you. And he would have loved to hug you, but somehow it didn't seem right for him to be so close to you after you dry humped. So he let it go and went for a jog, relieved that Andrea had so much to talk about with him. 

The more he talked about Ferrari, his training and the upcoming trip, the less he had to think about you while running. 

But when he walked into the apartment with full shopping bags and Andrea in tow and saw you standing in the hallway all dressed up, all his blood went south again. The jeans that accentuated your every curve to the extreme and the top with a slight neckline that he wanted to pull over your head. 

The fact that Andrea had to leave quickly played into his cards and the fact that he had to take a shower was also ideal, because he wouldn't have been able to hide his boner, which was certainly visible through the shorts, for much longer. In the shower he had sorted the situation out, biting his lower lip as his hand closed around his cock, imagining it was yours. 

"Charles, please," your voice echoed in his mind, and in circumstances where he'd actually slept with you, he would have been ashamed of himself for coming within two minutes. But he felt better and was ready to look you in the eye again after imagining you pressing your tongue flat against the tip of his cock. 

What also helped him keep his blood where it belonged - in his brain - was leaving the bathroom and hearing his British friend's voice. 

He also doesn't know what got into him when he rested his chin on your shoulder to make it clear that you belonged to him. Which, by the way, is not true either. Only a short time ago, he had decided not to let this go any further than a friendship - so why did he feel the need to behave so possessively towards Lando - especially Lando?

Lando, who gave him a hard time for treating you badly. Lando, who Charles knows is only approaching you in a friendly manner because he knows how much you mean to the Monegasque. Lando, who saved your friendship when it was about to shatter into a thousand splinters?

But Charles couldn't help himself. Jesus, he even put his hand on your hip to signal that Lando should please keep his hands off you. Like a horny dog, he had needed to show that you were his. 

And now, as you sit next to each other in your old Renault, he has to clutch the steering wheel so that he doesn't get any ideas about indulging his addiction to your touch. He misses the heat that burns through his skin when you touch him. He doesn't even dare to look in your direction. 

He takes his hand off the gear stick and stretches out his fingers, which have clenched painfully around the plastic, almost steering the car off the road as you place your hand under his to intertwine your fingers. 

His whole body burns as you place your hands in your lap and play with his fingers like it's the most natural thing in the world. As if you weren't just best friends sharing an apartment. As if you hadn't dry humped just a few hours ago. And it takes all his strength not to stop at the next corner and fuck you in the tiny back seat of the car until your lungs are hoarse from screaming.

He concentrates on steering the car properly. He concentrates on the springs he can feel through the thin fabric of the seat. He concentrates on the cracks in the steering wheel that he can feel in his calloused hand.

Charles is so glad to be sitting in the rickety Renault again.

[b3ach-bunn7]

IS IT CASUAL NOW? PT 2

The aftermath of you finally ending things with Touya.

—————————————————————————-

It’s hot. So hot that it’s all Touya can think about.

Touya sighs. He can lie so easily, but unfortunately never to himself. He’s not wearing a shirt, just the thinnest pair of shorts he owns. The rickety fan he’d stolen from his dad’s place is pissing him off more than it’s cooling him down. The Todoroki’s all ran hot, Touya the worst. It was a curse passed down from his father and Touya just loved how alike the two of them were. In the winter he wore a hoodie at best, and in the summer he melted. It’s why he found himself in your bedroom on the night/ he couldn’t sleep. You were so cool, your bedroom so still. It’s the only reason he did it. It was nothing to do with you.

Lying again. Touya wishes he could just erase you from his brain sometimes. Cut out the last two years of his life, forget all of it. Because that’s when it started. Not when he met you, but when he started feeling. It’s why he proposed the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing. Too scared to own up to anything but separate enough he’d do anything to get the chance to touch you. He thinks forgetting might be easier than admitting he has feelings for you. But you’ve embedded yourself in everything. He thinks if he slips far enough in his duvet he’ll smell you, that sweet perfume that drives him crazy. There’s a sock too girly and pink to be his on the floor. Pictures of you he hasn’t hung up but burn holes in the bottom of his closet. And Shoto’s incessant nagging to see you again.

It’s been two weeks and three days since he’s last seen you. Touya doesn’t think he’s gotten a good nights sleep since. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the bags under his eyes and the ache of his bones, Shoto is determined to remind him every second of every day. Asking where she is, why isn’t she coming over anymore, how did he ruin it. It’s beyond him how a six year old can read the room so well but that’s besides the point.

You were good with Shoto, though. He remembers the first time you’d met him. He’d walked in on you throwing him in the air and the brat was laughing. He barely did that with him, let alone with a stranger he’d never met. And it stirred something in him. Like maybe one day he could have that with you. A little kid that looks like him, or has that same smile as you. So bright he can’t even look at you for too long.

Touya sits up abruptly. Maybe a cold shower will help. He saunters to the bathroom and raps on the door.

“Occupied!” Fuyumi’s voice rings out. He hears the rush of water and he curses under his breath.

“Hurry up.”

“Shut up, I haven’t even started yet.”

Fuyumi took ages in the shower. All girls did and he had no idea why. You took forever. He could hear you singing sometimes. You didn’t sound the best but you were enjoying yourself. At least when you were taking ages he could join you. That’s when Touya found you the most attractive. Water running down your back, hair slicked back. He loved it the most when you used his shampoo, when you smelt like him. He could close his eyes and pretend for a moment you were somewhere else, just the two of you. That you were together.

He can’t help it. Touya can try to distract himself but it all ends up with you.

Your face. Tears rolling down them, ones he put there. He wanted to comfort you. Tell you that he didn’t think you were just somebody he fucked. It killed a little part of him to say that to you because he could see how much it hurt you. Physically see something inside you change and the tears that had been welling in your eyes finally falling. The way you’d stormed out. The fact you’d removed him from everything, every social media, even Spotify. His message pinging back the one time he tried to text you. The fact you’d called him Todoroki.

The issue is, Touya is cursed. It’s right there in his last name. Todoroki. You knew, of course. You knew all about his father. He’d sat you down once in the back of his car. Each of you with your backs against the window, a pack of gummy bears split open in front of you. And he showed you. Showed you each scar that his father had left at his hands. And then after that, Touya had told you everything. About his mother. About how he treated her. How he hit her, yelled at her. Made her cry like he’d made you cry.

That’s the harsh reality Touya has to face.Because unfortunately for him, he’d spent most of his life with his father. Thirteen long years with him, more than enough time to pick up all those horrible traits the man harboured. Touya was always the most like him. Short temper, quick to argue. And he’d read about it, too. Poured over psychology books and articles when the worries got too bad. Your childhood is where your character was built apparently, where your habits were learnt. Where you’re moulded into the person you’ll grow up to be, all based on the way your parents raised you. And it didn’t take a genius to realise his hadn’t been that good.

And if all that he’d seen was true, then Touya couldn’t do that to you. Couldn’t be his father. You were so perfect. You were way too good for him, for all the shit he’d bring you. You didn’t deserve to put up with that. And he knew you wouldn’t listen if he told you that so he had to get rid of you the only way he knew how.

But god, did he indulge in it. In you. Touya didn’t think you’d notice, that it was that obvious. How he couldn’t help but kiss you so tenderly. How he’d hold you any chance he got, had acted bothered when you got along so well with his family. Touya wasn't strong enough not to enjoy you while he had you.

He decides to go downstairs. The house feels stagnant. The windows are open and the curtains his mother had fashioned out of old clothes fluttered in the little wind that blew in from outside. The house was so much smaller than their old one but Touya felt like he could breathe here. It was crazy how much different life was without his father. How free they felt, the weight on his family’s shoulders gone.

His mothers in the kitchen. She’s making bread, he thinks, judging by the flour dusted all over the kitchen. They’re allowed to leave messes like this now. Touya opens the fridge, eyes closing at the cold air that blasts in his face. He grabs a coke. The can cools his palms and he’s half tempted to use it as an ice pack.

“Touya, come help me for a second.” His mother says. He glances over at her. Her hands are white with flour and she points to the bag of it beside her.

“Pour some for me.” Touya sighs, slightly, but listens. He turns to leave once she’s done but she stops him.

“Stay for a bit. Keep your mother company.” She pouts. Touya sighs. This time loudly. He sits down regardless. He takes another drink and the coke tastes like you, the two of you arguing, and he leaves it to the side.

“How have you been, Touya?”

“Fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Her voice isn’t stern but it has that mother tone to it that Touya, even at eighteen, can’t compete with.

“What do you want me to say?” He snaps. She doesn’t answer. Just point/ again.

“More flour please.” Touya pours more. He puts the bag down with a little more force than necessary.

“I’m your mum, Touya. I know when you’re not okay. And I’ve also noticed much less of Y/N around the house.”

Touya shakes his head. “This- it’s nothing to do with her.”

“So there is something wrong?” His mother is smiling slightly, proud of herself.

“Wow. So intuitive, mum.”

She sighs. She dusts off her hands on her apron. As annoying as she’s being, Touya can’t help but love it. It was rare she spoke much when his father was around and he finally feels like he’s learning who she is now that he’s gone.

“You two break up?”

“We were never together.”

His mother perks an eyebrow. “Really? In my day, two people hooking up were considered together.”

“Ew- Mum!” He wrinkles his nose. “Don’t- that’s disgusting.”

“I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Well, it’s over. We- She ended things.”

She furrows her brows. “Well that’s not right.”

“What do you mean?”

His mum hums. “Well. She loves you. Why would she end things if she loves you?”

Touya’s eyes are fixed on the table. He shakes his head. “No. She doesn’t love me.”

“She does.”

“Well, she shouldn’t!” He stands up. Runs a hand through his hair and it feels like yours, and he pulls it back like he’s burnt.

His mother is calm. Just watching him. “And why not?”

“Because- because. You know why, mum.” His voice sounds so weak. So pathetic. If only his father could see him now.

“I don’t. Tell me.”

“I-I can’t do it to her, mum. It’s not fair on her.” Touya says.

“But why?”

“Because why if I’m like him?”

His voice cracks, splinters his words in half. His mum looks at him then, like she might cry. There’s something in her face he can’t decipher but it’s out there. He’s said it, the thing that keeps him up at night, that eats at him.

“Honey, you’re not like him.”

“But what if I am?” So pathetic. He feels the prickle of tears and he hates how easily he cries, always has, ever since he was a kid.

“We don’t know. I’ve never been in a relationship, not a real one. What if- what if I was with her and I hurt her. Like he hurt you. I can’t do that to her, mum.”

She storms forward then. Her hands, still floury, grasp his shoulders. Touya should protest but he doesn’t, not when her touch grounds him. It always has.

“You listen to me, you are not your father.”

“What if I am? I’m the most like him, we all know it.”

She shakes her head. “No, honey, you’re not. I spent 15 years with that man. And you are nothing like him. You’re kind and you care for me and your siblings. For the people you love. He never did. And your anger, it’s superficial. You’d never hurt anyone. I know you wouldn’t.”

Touya doesn’t say anything. Just listens.

“Don’t let him ruin your life. I should’ve left sooner, for you. For all of your siblings.”

“Don’t blame yourself, mum.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s no longer here, honey. Don’t let him ruin your life even when he’s not in it.”

Touya breathes in shakily. Wipes at his face furiously. “Okay.”

She rubs his shoulder. Smiles, something bittersweet. “Good boy. Now go talk to Y/N.”

Touya nods. “Okay.”

“And put a shirt on before you go.” He watches his mum's eyes linger on the scars across his body. She turns away and so does he.

“I will.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

—————

You hate romcoms. Such stupid awful movies, you think.

Your friends had been over earlier in the day but you wanted to be alone. You’re trying to distract yourself by watching your favourite movies, eating shitty snacks. The issue is, all your favourite movies are about love. Perfect, sappy romances that end with kiss and sex in someone’s bedroom. You hate it. It’s doing nothing but reminding you of him.

Scum. Awful. Horrible. You hope that maybe if you call him enough names in your head you’ll get over him. Or maybe if you eat enough chocolate. At least Noah Centineo looks good in this movie. His peak, you like to think.

A knock at the door stirs you out of your thoughts. You were going to ignore it, but the knocking gets more frantic, and you swear, pushing through the pile of tissues you were sitting in.

“Alright, I’m coming.”

You don't bother cleaning yourself up. You couldn’t care less who’s on the other side of the door.

“You can chill out, okay, the door is not going any-“

Touya. Touya is standing at your door. While you look like absolute shit. But you don’t care. You shouldn’t care. Touya looks worse. His hair is all tussled and you know he’s been messing with it. He always does when he’s bothered by something. His eyes are a little red and you think he may have been crying.

“Fuck off.” You go to slam the door in his face but he puts an arm out.

“Please, wait. Can we talk?”

“Sorry, I’m not in the mood to fuck you. And that’s all I’m for, right?” You smile viciously, and push against the door. He won’t let it go though.

“Y/N, I was wrong. Just let me explain, and-“

“Explain what?” You fling the door open and he falls back slightly.

“Explain what, Touya? It’s been two weeks, and now you want to explain?”

He swallows. “I should’ve come sooner.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.”

“I was wrong. About everything.” He pleads, inching closer to the door.

You breathe heavily. You rub your eyes furiously and start walking away.

“Come on then.” You snap.

Touya obeys. He walks in quickly before you can change your mind. You sit down on the couch and he sits next to you. It’s silent for a moment. You don’t look at him. You can’t because you know if you do, you’ll forgive him in a second.

“You home alone?” He asks.

You pick at your cuticles. A bad habit you can’t crack. “Yes.”

You think Touya nods. You don’t want to look and check. You pull too hard and one of them starts bleeding.

“Don’t do that.” He says softly, pushing your hands apart. His skin is warm and you pull your hands into your lap. You shake your head.

“What do you want?”

“I love you.”

Touya speaks the words quickly. Like you did before, like he’s going to explode if he doesn’t get them out. You do look at him then, and he’s already looking at you. Eyes wide, so blue and searching you think he might be looking into your soul.

“You- You what?” Your voice almost comes out in a whisper.

“I love you. I always did. You were right, you’re not just somebody I fuck. I-i didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.” His voice cracks.

“Then- Why did you say all that stuff then? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

The two of you turn, move closer to cover. You don’t even notice, not until his knees are touching yours and that cologne he always uses, woodsy and cool, tingles your senses.

“I was scared. I am scared. I’ve never done this before, Y/N.” He looks down for a second. Looks back up at you.

“I was scared that. That I'd be like my father. End up as cruel as he was. I couldn’t put you through that.”

And it makes sense then. Slowly you piece it all together. Why he sent you such mixed signals. Why he was so distant with you and yet so close, always one step from taking things too far.

“Oh, Touya.” You grab his hand, and it’s warm. It always is.

“I know it’s stupid. But I watched him torment my mother for 13 years. And. What if I was like him? I couldn’t deal with it. It drove me crazy. Every time I got close to you, I’d freak out and I’d pull back.”

You squeeze his hand and he grabs it with both of his, squeezing back.

“I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t mean what I said, none of it. I swear.”

You breathe shakily. “You didn’t?”

“Of course I didn’t. I love you. That I mean.”

You stare at him. Part of you whispers that you shouldn’t trust him. A small part of you that’s still angry he let you wallow for two long weeks with no effort, no contact. But the rest of you. The rest of you is looking at Touya. Who has tears threatening to fall if he blinks just once more, who’s hands are shaking in your own. Touya, who told you everything, had cut himself open and shown you every part of himself he’d hidden from the world. And despite how angry you are, were, you can’t deny that.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me straight away. I understand, I said some really shitty things to you. But fuck, please. Give me a chance to fix this.” He whispers.

Before you can even think you press your lips to his. His hand, soft and calculated, reaches up to cup your cheek and it spurs you into action. You practically fall on him, one hand grabbing his shirt and the other carding through his hair. Oh, and it’s as soft as you remember, white curls tangling in your fingers as you sigh into his mouth. You're straddling his lap now and his back presses against your couch. Touya makes a noise, then, something desperate. He breaks apart and the two of you are breathless. He stares at you for a second before his lips are kissing your jaw, down your neck. He sucks a mark on the spot between your neck and your shoulder and you shiver.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I missed you so much.” He whispers into your skin.

You laugh slightly, and pull him away. “Easy, Touya. I don’t forgive you that much.”

He looks hopeful, despite the blatant rejection of his advances. “So you forgive me?”

You hum, fingers tracing over his skin. “Yeah. I do. Just because I miss Shoto, though.”

He snorts. Places a kiss on your forehead, your cheek. “Good. The little brat won’t shut up asking about you.”

“Really?”

“Don’t look so excited. I saw you first.”

You giggle, falling besides him. You lean into his arm, one leg tangling with his. It’s so simple, so easy to fall into the same routine. You think you should maybe be madder, but you can’t. Not at Touya. You think of the faces of your friends from earlier today and you wince.

“Look, I forgave you pretty easy, but you’re gonna have to put some in work with my friends. You can’t just kiss their anger away.” You raise an eyebrow and he tilts his head.

“You sure?”

“Don’t push it.”

—————————————————————————

guys I physically can’t have angst without a happy ending sorry not sorry 🙈 also plz leave me requests I’m aching to write but I have no idea what!!

[letorip]

Which of Jenna’s characters do you think would be the clingiest? (I loved your headcannons ❤️)

most clingy

this was a very wholesome one to think about, i had great fun. thank you the anon who submitted this. same deal as last time, if you're tl;dr my take is at the bottom

wednesday addams:

she likes to put up a tough front of needing nobody and desiring to be alone, but once she falls for you, it's as bad as morticia and gomez

you live in a room on the other side of campus, and she's made it a habit of sneaking to your room almost every night. she scales the fucking dangerous, rickety old roof to get there each time, but she'll do it, because she'll get to sleep with you

sometimes it's to sleep with you, if you catch my not-so-subtle drift, and then other times it's because she wants to sleep with you

of course, she'll disguise it as "my room has broken air conditioning" or "enid is snoring," and you just smile, nod, and lift the sheets for her to get in

she's not a huge cuddler in the sense that she wants to lay directly on you, but she wants to be around, in the same bed

you do this almost every night, and if you don't, she's knocking on your door right when people are let out of their rooms in the morning to hang out (or make out) before breakfast starts

she's virtually moved in with you, at this point. she has a toothbrush in your bathroom, several outfits in your dresser (in her own drawer), and she leaves dead animal skulls and occult books around to "liven up the place." they definitely don't match your pre-existing decor, but you don't mind because it's wednesday

she's not super fond of pda of any sort, but she'll definitely be right by your side when you're hanging with mutual friends. she'll hold hands under the table or kiss you when there's a private moment, but she's not all over you physically when other people are staring at you both

she does definitely get super jealous

she'll make little comments like "bianca seemed friendly" or "divina finds you awfully funny." if you're tutoring someone in the library, guess who will also miraculously be at the library at the same time? sitting in a chair with a perfect angle of the table you're at and peeking over the top of her book

wednesday is almost always with you, because you're one of the few people she trusts and longs to frequently be with

tara carpenter:

you live with tara and sam, so it makes sense that you and tara slowly grow closer and closer until you start dating

she absolutely loves to have at least one point of contact with you whenever she can. she'll lean against you, lean her head on your shoulder, wrap an arm around you, just let your shoulders touch, or when she really wants to, she'll leave a hand on your knee

when you’re both watching a movie, she’ll cuddle up against your chest and start to fall asleep there, especially if it’s one she’s seen before. you turn the movie off but don’t move, because if you do tara will wake up

during the events of scream vi or any time there’s a ghostface threat levied towards her or sam, she’s especially attached to you. she doesn’t sleep as well and refuses to leave your side, as she’s paranoid ghostface will come to take you from her

you assure her that you’re okay and she can sleep, grabbing her hand and squeezing it three times (i. love. you.). it calms tara down a bit, and though she’s still worried and makes sure the apartment is locked and you’re all safe, it helps her sleep

when things calm down again, she’s not super clingy in the sense that she’s always with you. you’re both in college and have your own classes, and though she wants you near, you both can function as separate people. it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to be with you, but your work and school keeps you both a bit more apart during the day

you both text frequently though, not because she doesn’t trust you and wants to be on top of you, but because it’s just nice to hear from you and you both love talking to each other. she’ll send you photos of cute dogs she sees on instagram or a reel she finds funny with a little note at the bottom that says ‘hope your day is going well <3’

tara does get rather jealous at parties. it’s not your fault you’re hot, but when other people approach you to “talk,” 9 times out of 10 you’re too oblivious to realise you’re being hit on

she’ll walk right over to the conversation you’re having with someone random and duck under your arm to wrap it around her shoulders. if that doesn’t work, she also has the tactic of narrowing her eyes, or if she’s feeling especially bold, just grabbing your wrist and dragging you away to shove you down on some random bed

people know in general not to fuck with tara when it comes to you. in a way it makes you her weak spot, but she will absolutely raise hell and stab whoever she needs to, in order to make sure you’re okay

shes definitely a cuddler. she’ll drag you back into bed and wrap an arm around your torso and hold you there. sam always wrinkles her nose whenever she walks past you both cuddled up against each other on the couch after a long day

lorraine day:

you meet lorraine as an actor in the adult films, when she’s still with RJ. it causes a bit of drama when she leaves him for you, but once you and her are officially together she never ever wants to leave your side

it even means she starts acting in them herself, and the best part is that with you, it’s not even really acting. she loves every minute and how free you make her feel, and because she feels it strongest while in your presence, she chases after it all the time

she’s a giant hugger, wether it be side hugging, or wrapping her arms around your waist from behind, to rest her head on your shoulder and watch whatever thing you’re doing

lorraine is so in love, and with you it’s a sweetness that shoots up her veins like heroin. you both eat together, sleep together, work together, and travel together

you always travel together except for once, when you had to go check on your father as his health declined. it was two states away and you went alone, because lorraine was due to keep shooting with jackson, maxine, and bobby-lynne. the entire time you were away after the filming wrapped, she stared out the damn window over the hill, waiting for you to pull up in your truck

it wasn’t long enough a time that she could’ve written a letter, but she felt like a soldier’s wife craving your call

when you got back she ran out to meet you and jumped into your arms. you twirl her around with a laugh and she’s crying into your hands and kissing your palms and then kissing you.

you laugh and say “lorraine, it’s been three days,” but she shakes her head and kisses you again. she’s so happy you’re home you go AT it that night, to the point where wayne knocks on your door to tell you to quiet down

she’s wanted to marry you since the minute she met you, and she tells you as such, even though it’s been a bit over a year

she doesn’t get super jealous, just because she knows fucking other people is just what you do for work. it feels different for you both, when you’re alone and when you’re in front of the camera. you’re both comfortable with yourselves and your relationship, and it’s the comfort she’s always wanted

i’m thinking of hourglass by catfish and the bottlemen, i think that song describes it perfectly

you’re always together, in your own perfect little version of heaven, and while it’s not clinginess from jealousy, it’s clinginess from love and being happy

cairo sweet:

cairo is not clingy whatsoever

not in the sense that she couldn’t give a fuck about you— though she definitely attempted to push that narrative at first— but in the sense that she knows she’s the best and she knows you’re both so incredibly solid. if anything, being apart makes seeing each other even better

she’s a romantic and a rich romantic at that, so whose to say she won’t go on a vacation for a few weeks without warning and then reappear at school for you to ask her where she went

part of her enjoys creating a mystery for you, and making you chase her. she likes the thrill of it, and in a weird way it shows that you care about her enough to find out where she’s been or what she’s doing. it’s somewhat refreshing, considering her parents are so careless and you care so much

she does get jealous when she sees you with other kids. you’re just as intelligent as she is, and you give tutoring advice and run several clubs, so there are always kids who need to speak with you. she knows it’s just part of your role on campus, but it does irk her a bit when she sees you talking to pretty girls who are all too suddenly interested in correcting their math test

most nights between you both are spent at her home, tangled up. she likes to drink wine, but you stay away from alcohol. that doesn’t mean you won’t kiss it off her lips, though

you both are avid readers, so sometimes she’ll lean against you while you both read separate books and sit in silence. it’s peaceful, and cairo always thought she’d want some whirlwind forbidden romance, which is why she’s so surprised she likes the quiet domesticity

she’s definitely somewhat a fan of showy pda in certain situations. she’ll sit on your lap in between classes and wrap an arm around your shoulders, and who’s to say the girl who she caught staring at your lips yesterday wouldn’t come around the corner at the same time to see you there

she makes it perfectly clear she doesn’t depend on you, though. you both exist as separate people. she finds couples joined at the hip as “vapid” and “full of braggadocio.” of course, she’s proud of her relationship with you, but cairo also values her independence and separation

not that many people were even aware you were together officially, until a good three months in. you would argue (flirt) in class during socratic seminars, but most kids thought you both genuinely hated each other

for what it’s worth, you enjoy cairo for all her cairo-isms. it may be cringe to other people, but you do fundamentally understand her in a way no one else really does, just because of how open and honest she is with you. it was a struggle for her at first, but she does appreciate you for it

another one down. really tried to stick to clingy but it definitely branched out to other stuff too because i think there are definitely many ways to be clingy. clingiest, i would say would be lorraine, with tara not falling far behind

[vashs-turtleneck]

Muted.

✧ Nimble-fingered bonus chapter.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) Summary: A teasing night on a rickety old couch with your beloved typhoon. Pairing: Vash the Stampede x f!reader Word count: 2.8k Content: smut, pwp, Vash swearing a lot, teasing and possessive Vash, finger sucking, p in v sex, silly little ending. A/N: technically a bonus chapter with some similarities to the first one, but you don't really need to read the first one to get what's happening. also vash's hands continue to give me unholy thoughts :3

18+ ONLY, MDNI!

“Haah… That’s it, mayfly. Just like that. Keep going.” 

His shirt and jacket discarded, tossed somewhere on the floor along with all your clothes. His pants are pulled down to his knees, just enough to give you full access to his cock as his muscular thighs cushion your own, bouncing yourself on his lap, filling yourself over and over again with his throbbing cock. 

Vash shuts his eyes tightly and lets his head fall back against the couch, letting you see the bob of his Adam's apple as he moans and groans out loudly into the room. His angelic noises mix with the sound of the withered couch groaning beneath the two of you, feeling the whole thing shift and creak with your combined weight. 

“F-Fuck, mayfly. So fucking good," he hisses, his palms planted firmly on your hips as he helps you up and down on him, blunt fingernails digging deliciously into your soft flesh, just enough to leave little red marks that you know you’ll be wearing proudly for the coming days.

You lean forward slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his neck. 

“You’re being too loud, love. We’re gonna wake the whole place up if you don’t keep it down.”

With an almost frustrated growl, Vash raises his head and meets your gaze, those baby blues half-lidded and filled with a deep, almost feral lust you don’t often see from the outlaw. He’s hungry tonight, completely starved for you and eager to get his fill of your body, and you’re more than happy to give it to him. 

“Not like I can help it. You’re so– ah! – so fucking tight. You’re killing me here!”

“I just don't want anyone teasing us about this in the morning, or a noise complaint,” you say back softly, trying to soothe the typhoon, but gentle words aren’t enough to stop an oncoming storm. 

Vash puffs out a deep sigh. You’re right of course, he knows that, but you’re making it damn hard to care about the noise he’s making. His eyes fix themselves on you, on your body, wanting to take it all in, wanting to touch every part of you, to see every inch of you. Watching the sway of your hips as you ride his cock, admiring the softness of your thighs, the bounce of your breasts, until those piercing eyes fall back to your face, a mischievous glint hiding behind his stare. Your body is perfect, like it was tailored just for him to explore.

“Then we better find a way to keep my mouth occupied." 

Vash’s hands run up the sides of your body, tracing your curves until he stops at your breasts. With his prosthetic palm, he gently squeezes your breast and rolls his thumb over your nipple. He brings his mouth to your perked little bud, kissing and lavishing his tongue over the tender skin before carefully catching your nipple between his teeth and pulling back lightly, only to dive back in and suck it into his scorching mouth. His other hand falls to the globe of your ass, squeezing your cheek as you bounce yourself on his cock. You feel his hand leave you before you feel a firm slap, making you yelp, gripping tightly and digging his fingers into the plush fat of your butt. He pulls and pushes you down onto his lap, forcing you into a slightly faster rhythm that has your cunt pulsing around him. 

“You are divine, angel. You know that? Makes me want to let the whole inn know that you’re mine," he groans as he parts his lips from your stiffened peak and keeps his eyes fixed on the way your face twists with pleasure. 

"You like it, don't you? Like the idea of everyone knowing who you belong to?" Vash grins at you as he feels you begin to writhe against him and your back arch from the sensation. His hand grasps your breast even tighter, his cold fingers massaging your nipple, squeezing it between his thumb and index finger, twisting ever so slightly and causing your moans to ring out in the room.

"N-No," you whimper weakly, but you feel your own body betraying you.

"Liar," he growls against the shell of your ear. “I can feel your pussy squeezing me, mayfly. I know you like it.”

He goes back to focusing on your nipple, and the way his tongue swirls over the tip of your breast has your breath catching, an uncontrollable series of pleasured whimpers escaping you as you fall victim to his loving abuse.

“V-a-ah-sh!”

His lips part from your nipple one more time with a quiet pop, running his tongue along his bottom lip and collecting the excess saliva around his mouth as he chuckles hoarsely at you. 

"You don't know what you're doing to me, sweet thing. When you whimper and moan my name like that, it just makes me want you even more," the outlaw purrs before he slaps your ass again, forcing out a groan out from deep in your lungs, your nails digging into the strong muscles of his broad chest.

“Look who’s the loud one now,” Vash teases, a wolfish grin splitting his face, clearly pleased with himself for making you lose control of your own voice. “Thought you were worried about someone hearing us?”

“It’s your fault,” you whine out with a pout, frankly a bit embarrassed that he can make you lose yourself so easily. 

“Hm,” he hums, that mischievous glint in his eyes ever present. “We better keep your mouth occupied too then.”

Before he can even give you a chance to respond, the fingers of his warm and calloused hand are already tracing your lips, kindly warning you before he shoves his two long middle and ring fingers into the warm channel of your mouth.

“Suck." His voice is so soft, yet his command is firm and clear.

Without pause, your tongue swirls around the long digits, hollowing your cheeks and inviting them in with your soft lips, rewarding you with moans from the humanoid typhoon. You can’t stop yourself from whimpering and moaning still, completely drowning in the pleasure of having both your mouth and pussy filled with nothing but him. His attempt at keeping you quiet is backfiring. 

“You’re still so loud. Having a hard time controlling yourself, mayfly? You're so cute," he coos, and you don’t miss the teasing tone behind his soft tone. “It's such a shame, really. You know I love hearing you, but I can't say I don't also love putting that little mouth of yours to good use.”

Vash leans himself back slightly, just enough to give him a full view of your cunt engulfing his cock over and over. He can see all of you, feel all of you– the way your pussy drools down his shaft and coats his thighs and balls with your mixed juices, the pretty white ring of cream you're leaving at the base of his dick, the subtle twitch of your hips as your core clenches around him. Then his eyes travel up to your chest, shamelessly watching your tits bounce with every little movement of your hips. His eyes don’t leave your breasts as he bucks up into you, pushing his cock so deep into you that you swear you feel the tip press a hot kiss to your cervix. The feeling makes you yelp in a mix of pleasure and surprise, jolting your body and making your breasts jiggle even more in front of his prying eyes. 

“Fuck. Look at you. Taking me all the way in. Good girl," Vash praises and smiles in a sort of reverence and satisfaction. “So beautiful, mayfly. So fucking perfect for me, just for me.”

His prosthetic leaves your breast, trailing down to the apex of your sex and rolling his thumb over your clit. The feeling sends a shiver up your spine, mewling desperately against the fingers in your mouth. Those long digits glide in and out, following the rhythm of your hips, teasingly pressing against your tongue and muffling the sounds of your sweet cries.

"That's my girl," Vash says quietly and shakily, his lips sliding along your jawline and peppering your face with tender kisses, his fingers massaging and pinching the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. His own hips start bucking against you, pushing his cock deeper inside you with each thrust. His tongue moves to your neck now, his teeth biting into it softly as he feels you moan out more. Your hips start to stutter against his, losing your rhythm under his merciless onslaught of pleasure.

“Ah ah ah, don’t get too distracted now, angel. Be a good girl and keep riding me,” he whispers against the column of your throat, chastising you and praising you all at the same time. “Focus, love. You've got this.”

Your hands clench against his chest, desperately trying to keep it together despite everything he’s doing to make you fall apart. You squeeze your eyes closed, willing every part of yourself into being good for him, steadying your hips and falling back into that euphoric rhythm that has you seeing white behind your eyelids. He’s being so good to you, after all. You want to be good for him, too. 

“That’s it. Fuck– yeah, that’s it. So damn good for me.”

He pulls his head back, keeping his eyes focused on his lap again, watching how your pussy sucks him back in every time you pull away.

“Squeezing me so damn tight. You’re so close, I can feel it,” he growls, and with one more gentle glide of his fingers over your tongue, he pops them out of your mouth, letting his hand fall to the plush of your thigh and giving it a firm squeeze. “Why don’t you let the whole inn know who’s making you feel so good, sweetheart?”

He’s right, of course. You’re not going to last much longer, and you can feel the heat rising to your face at his request. Such a dirty request from such a sweet man, but you’re in no position to deny him. 

“Vash…” you say in muted tones, and as soon as his name leaves your lips, you know that’s not what he wanted, a disapproving “tsk” leaving his lips as he clicks his tongue. 

“Louder. Who do you belong to?” he asks you again, carefully pinching your clit and making his desires loud and clear– he won’t let you off the hook that easily. 

“Vash,” you say again, a bit louder this time.

“Look at me," he breathes out, his scorching breath ghosting over your already burning skin. 

Your eyes flutter open, and at first, you can barely focus on him, your mind hazy from your oncoming orgasm. Those piercing sapphire eyes don’t so much as flicker from yours, regarding you fully and filled with nothing short of complete reverence, flooded with a primal, uncontrollable desire and an all-encompassing love for you – raging, yet serene. 

So this is what it feels like to be in the eye of the storm. 

“One more time, angel. Nice n’ loud. Make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

His face is close enough to yours that you can feel his lips brushing against your own with every word he speaks, his fingers pressing firmly and circling your clit, turning you into a trembling mess on his own lap. 

“Vash!”

You cry out in your euphoric haze, letting yourself fall into the raging waves of ecstasy wrecking your body. Your core clenches down on Vash’s cock in your climax, your body begging for him to give you everything he has, just as you give yourself to him. 

“Y-Yeah– like that. Just like that, angel.”

He moans out in tandem with you, easing the pressure of his fingers against your sensitive bud and guiding you through your orgasm.

“A-Aah feels so good. S-Shit– I-I can’t– ’m coming!”

And with a sweet, broken cry of your name leaving his lips and echoing off the thin walls – a declaration to the heavens themselves of his love for you – his own hips stall, a delicious heat running down his spine as he spills himself completely into you, painting your insides white with his hot cum and leaving you feeling more full than you thought possible. He exhales a shuddering breath and eases the tight grip on your body, letting you slump down against him.

“I love you. I love you so much," Vash says breathlessly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you to his chest, letting his face fall to your shoulder and resting his head against yours before peppering the side of your face with soft kisses. “You’re so good. Always so perfect for me, baby. I love you.”

You hum wistfully as he showers you with his tender affections, his touch so delicate and careful that it’s almost hard to believe this is the same man who was mercilessly teasing you and lovingly rearranging your guts mere moments ago.

“You okay, mayfly?”

You nod. “I’m okay, love,” you say back, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, thighs still trembling against his own and shaky breaths mixing with his.

“Do you wanna keep going? Or do you need a minute? I can get you some water.” His flesh and bone hand comes up to cradle your face, tilting your head so he can kiss along your face the way he wants to. He’s barely recovered himself, and here he is concerning himself with your well-being. 

“I can– I want to keep going,” you reply, leaning your head into the palm of his warm hand.

“So eager, mayfly,” Vash chuckles against your cheek. “Good, ‘cause I’m not quite done with you yet,” he mutters hoarsely as his kisses turn more passionate again, his mouth focusing on the side of your neck, those sharp teeth gently nipping at your skin. “What do you say I get you off my lap and I bend you over this couch, huh baby?”

He already has you moaning again. He knows your body better than he knows his own, and he knows exactly what buttons to press to get you squirming on his lap again. Your response is a subtle roll of your hips, angling yourself so you can sink down onto him completely, and you can feel the groan he lets out vibrating in his chest. He may know your buttons, but you know his too. 

He pulls back from your neck, sapphire eyes drinking in the delicious sight of you. His lips part, but before he can speak, the sound of your heavy breaths is suddenly accompanied by a startling snap.

*Crack*

“Heh?” His eyes widen in confusion, your bodies stilling for a moment before you hear it again.

*Crack*

The surface beneath the two of you suddenly gives out, Vash’s hands instinctively wrapping around you and cradling the back of your head as you both fall back into the broken couch, its wooden supports having snapped under all the pressure. 

“WHAAGH– Eek! Ouch ouch ouch!” Vash whines from beneath you as he absorbs most of the fall.

“Oh god, are you okay? Are you hurt!?” you exclaim, cupping his face in your palms, your eyes darting between him and the wreckage surrounding you both now. 

No way that just happened.

“Ehh… I’ll be fine. My butt might be a little sore later though,” he groans, trying to sit up slightly. “You're not hurt, are you?”

“No, not at all. I'm fine. I had a big strong plant man to keep me safe.”

“What a relief," he sighs.

You two are awkwardly positioned now, Vash somewhat stuck in the wreckage of the broken couch as he keeps you safely planted on his lap, and you can feel his dick still twitching inside you.

“Hold on. Let me get off you. I'll help you up,” you say as you try to pry yourself off him. You try to find a surface to grab and pull yourself off of him, being careful with the bits of old, broken wood surrounding the both of you.

Yeah, this is gonna cost a pretty penny. That paired with how you just cried out his name so loud that it absolutely carried through the thin walls of the inn has you flushing a deep red. There’ll be no hiding what the two of you were doing when you have to tell reception about their broken couch. 

“Mayfly..?” Vash mutters, his big blue eyes looking up at you with a sheepish look on his face, his lower lip wobbling and sticking out in an adorable little pout. 

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

He has tears forming in the corners of his eyes, cheeks flushed in… embarrassment?

“I think… I think there’s a splinter in my ass.”

a/n: picturing Vash with a little bandaid on his butt. Also guess Vash and couches don’t mix well (sorry)

divider.

[oizysian]

Part I: Looking Out For You

I Set the World on Fire masterlist

Warnings: blood, death, murder, sex

Word count: 4.3k

About Five Years Ago

She completely surrounded me. She was on top of me, around me, inside me, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. She was the love of my life and we were going to start a family together soon - or at least that’s what I imagined. My imagination ran wild especially when she was fucking me so lovingly, so deep and so hard that I could almost feel her inside of my mind, completely consuming me.

Her strap filled me up completely, stretching me out so impossibly far that I struggled to take her fully.

“You can take it, detka, I know you can.” She whispered in my ear, pressing her lips to my neck and letting her teeth graze against the sensitive skin there.

“Unh, W-Wanda,” I moaned softly, wrapping my arms around her tightly and pulling her close, my legs already linked around her hips and holding her as close as humanly possible. “S’too much.”

Her lips went from my neck, upwards towards my own lips, where she wasted no time in swallowing my whimpering moans as she kissed me. She pounded into me, the small, rickety bed creaking with her powerful thrusts. She knew what I needed, and when and how I needed it. She knew how to make my body sing when she touched me, and I trusted her with every fiber of my being.

“Sis!” Pietro’s voice boomed from behind the closed door, his fist pounding upon the old wood. “We’ve got a job! Finish up or I’ll finish it for you!”

“Shut up, idiot!” She called back to him, her fists balled up beside either side of my head, gripping the sheets as she fucked me, hard and fast.

“Wanda,” I whined, slightly put off by the fact that Pietro had heard and interrupted us. “Kiss me.”

She looked down into my eyes and smiled, bringing her head down and capturing my lips with her own in a passionate kiss. This was everything I needed in life. If we had our own place, it would’ve been ideal, but having her, like this, was everything I ever wanted.

“I’m going to cum, detka. Are you close?”

I nodded and she pressed her forehead against my own as she balanced herself on her elbow, bringing her other arm down so she could play with my clit. She rubbed tight circles along my throbbing bundle of nerves, sending jolts of electricity throughout my body. I felt my orgasm approaching as she continued to touch me with her magical fingers, my brows knitting together as the coil within me tightened and then suddenly released. I dug my nails into her shoulders as I came on her cock, her own high rushing through her as she finished pounding me into the bed, panting softly against my neck as she laid down on top of me, still inside me.

“You did so good for me, malyshka.” She said as she peppered kisses all along my jaw, grabbing my face with her clean hand and pulling me towards her, where she captured my lips once more in a searing kiss.

“Let’s go, Wanda! We don’t have all day!” Pietro called out again and I saw her roll her eyes at his words and at his impatience.

“Alright, alright.” She grumbled softly, kissing me again before sliding herself out of me. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Don’t go fucking again! We don’t have the time.”

“Shut the fuck up, Piet!” She finally yelled at him as she got up off the bed, undoing the harness around her hips and sliding it off.

I laid where she left me, my own cum dripping down my thighs and ruining the sheets beneath me. She leaned over the bed to kiss me again, smiling at my blissed out state.

“I wish I could stay and clean you up.” She ran her fingers down my cheek to my clavicle, then towards my breasts where she played with my nipple until it was a hardened bud under her touch.

“I wish you could too.” I whispered back to her, saddened by the fact that she had to leave so soon.

“I’ll be back before you know it, okay? This job should be pretty quick.” She leaned down again to press a kiss to my forehead and then walked over to the closet to get her clothes out.

I propped myself up on my elbows and watched her, her bare ass and back on display for me as she picked out her outfit.

“What do you have to do?”

“Same old, same old.” She said as she pulled out her usual black attire, looking over it before draping the dark shirt and jeans over a nearby chair. “We go in, I talk, Pietro takes, and we leave.”

My brow furrowed at her words. I didn’t really like the fact that she went on these ‘jobs’ with her brother. I worried for both of them, but she was my girlfriend, and I didn’t want her out there doing these things for a living. It was dangerous and they were playing games with people that wouldn’t think twice to have them hurt or worse.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” I whispered softly, my eyes leaving her body to look at the floor, which had suddenly become very interesting.

She sighed, facing me and coming to sit on the edge of the bed, her hand resting upon my bare thigh.

“I know, detka. One day it won’t be like this, I promise.”

She gave me a small smile and a squeeze before getting up again, grabbing her clothes and heading into the bathroom to get dressed.

I sighed softly, grabbing the blankets from the foot of the bed and wrapping them around me as I laid down again. I’d clean the sheets before Wanda got home so she’d have fresh sheets to sleep on tonight. Right now, I just couldn’t bring myself to move.

She came out a few moments later, dressed in her black clothing with her dark makeup on and her signature rings. She smiled at me and walked back over to the bed once more, pressing another kiss to my forehead before walking out of the room. I could hear Pietro bitching at her as they made their way to the entrance of our small apartment, and I kept my eyes on the closed bedroom door until I heard the front door shut and lock behind them. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding when I registered the fact that I was alone. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I laid in our shared bed, wondering if this would be the last time I saw her.

It was hours later when I heard the door creak open and I realized I had fallen asleep. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and saw Wanda at the foot of the bed with a large bag.

“Wanda?” I questioned softly, sitting up against the headboard and watching as she moved around to my side of the bed in the darkness.

She flicked on the lights and the room was flooded with brightness. I squinted and looked up at her smiling face.

“Detka,” she lifted the sack up and went to flip it over, spilling its contents all over the bed. “We did it.”

I watched in disbelief as money poured out of the burlap sack, hundreds upon hundreds fell on top of my lap.

“Oh my god, Wanda.” I said, grabbing handfuls of the cash, unable to believe it was real. “Where’d you get all of this?”

“The job we just pulled.” She sat next to me, still smiling. “We just nabbed a whole bunch of drugs from some guys trying to pull one over on the family we’ve been working for.” Her smile widened. “We can finally get out of here, detka, just me and you.”

“What about Piet?” I asked, still stunned by the amount of money currently sitting on our bed.

“What about him? He got his cut. Now he can go whoring around in his own place.”

I stared at her a moment before leaping into her arms, happy tears streaking down my cheeks as I held her. This was the big break that we had been looking forward to. She let out a chuckle as she grabbed hold of me, lifting me up and kissing me fiercely.

“We’re gonna have everything we ever wanted now, malyshka. Everything you ever dreamed of having - you’ll have it.”

I smiled against her lips, looking into her deep green eyes and falling in love all over again.

With their brand new funding and newfound respect, Wanda and Pietro started their own little family, building their empire from the ground up. They recruited their old friends from the orphanage, Dimitri and Leo, and of course they had made other acquaintances while doing various jobs for various people, so they were able to make quick connections and establish themselves in record time. Everything seemed to be going well for them; they were finally in a position of power, working for and making a name for themselves. But, Pietro was a bit of a hothead and easily made enemies.

She got the call at around two in the morning. We had been sleeping, her body cocooned around my own, her fingers entwined with mine as her work phone went off.

“Ignore it,” I whispered into the darkness, and she pressed a kiss to my shoulder as she rolled over, searching for the annoying device. “Baby, c’mon,” I whined. “It’s cold without you.”

“I know, but this could be important.” She said as she grabbed the phone from under our clothes that had been thrown on the floor and sat down next to me, patting my ass gently. “Hello?”

I rarely listened in on her conversations, but after a few minutes, she was eerily quiet. I tried to hear the person on the other line, but heard nothing. Curiosity got the best of me and I rolled over to see Wanda staring off into space, her phone discarded on her lap, still open, and tears cascading down her cheeks.

“Baby,” I was instantly alert, sitting up and taking hold of her hand. “Baby, what happened?”

She inhaled shakily before finally letting her eyes fall to mine, her tears showing no signs of stopping.

“Piet. H-he’s …” She swallowed roughly. “They found him .. dead.” She let out a gut wrenching sob and fell into my arms.

I held her as she cried, unable to even fathom what she had said. Pietro was dead? I knew I couldn’t ask questions because she probably had no answers and was in no condition to answer them anyway, so I just held her. Tears fell from my own eyes as we sat in the darkness of our apartment, her cries tearing me apart. He was all she had and now she had nothing left from Sokovia.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them!” She screamed, gripping my arms as I held her. “I’m gonna kill them all!”

“Wanda, shh.” I pressed a kiss to her head and pulled her against me, trying my hardest to comfort her even though I knew there would be no comfort in anything I said or did from now on.

“Pietro … I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She sobbed, practically falling limp in my arms.

She had all but collapsed, and eventually her cries subsided. She lay motionless in my embrace, her soft sniffles the only sound in our room. I pet her hair with a shaky hand, glad that she was finally calm, but not knowing what to do from here on out. Life would be different without Pietro - for both of us.

It was weeks of random breakdowns and outbursts before she came home late one night, covered in blood.

“Wanda!” I cried at the sight of her, frightened that the blood had been hers. “My god, what happened?”

“Pietro.” She said softly as I approached her, taking her face in my hands. “I finally found the one that … did it.”

“Wanda …” I didn’t know what I could possibly say to her.

Her eyes finally met mine and she looked haunted, changed like a war veteran and it sent a chill down my spine. I held her face in my hands for a moment longer before throwing myself into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. What a foolish thing she had done, going after the one that killed Pietro; what a dangerous, foolish thing. It took her a moment to respond, but she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me tightly, and I felt her take a deep breath against me.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” I said softly, realizing we were now both covered in some dead man’s blood.

I pulled away from her and took hold of her hand, walking her slowly towards the bathroom. I was afraid that any sudden movements would set her off, and god only knew what she would do in the condition she was in.

Inside the bathroom, I undressed her and started the bath, regulating the water so she could get in and get cleaned up. Once she was situated inside the warmth of the water, I took her clothes and put them in a garbage bag. I would dispose of them tomorrow. I returned to the bathroom to find the water a reddish hue, and her face stained with streaks of tears.

“My love,” I knelt down next to the tub, grabbing the washcloth off the edge of the tub and getting it wet. “I’m gonna take care of you. It’s all going to be okay.”

She sniffled softly and nodded as I put a dollop of soap on the cloth and began washing her bloody, dirty, body. She had no visible wounds that I could see, which I was thankful for, but she was suffering in a way that I had no way of healing. I didn’t know what to do for her other than just be there and take care of her the best I could. I feared it wouldn’t be enough.

Present Day

“Dimitri told me he noticed someone following you around the shops the other day.” Wanda said as we ate breakfast together.

I shrugged slightly.

“I didn’t really notice. I always have someone following me.”

She hummed softly as she sipped her coffee, her eyes falling to the newspaper on the table.

“You should probably pay attention.”

“It’s not my job.” I snapped and she narrowed her eyes at me, clearly annoyed.

“No, but it’s my job to keep you safe.”

“That’s what you have Dimitri and Leo following me around for.” I grumbled. “I can’t even go to the bathroom in peace when I’m out.”

“Would you rather they not be there and something happening to you?”

My eyes fell to my untouched plate of food and I shook my head.

“No.” I said under my breath.

“What was that?”

“No.” I repeated, finally lifting my head to look at her.

She was sitting across from me, smug as all hell, knowing that I was wrong in complaining about being followed by her guards. After Pietro was killed, things changed, and if I ever went out without her, which was often, I had to be followed by one of them. She didn’t take risks like she used to. She controlled everyone and everything. If it couldn’t be controlled, she would break it until it could be or she would get rid of it.

“Don’t go out for a while.” She put her cup down and stood from her seat. “I trust Dimitri. If he says someone was following you, someone was following you.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, leaning my head on my hand and sighing at her words. I was just another thing for her to control nowadays. How I wished for the days when we were young, when we were carefree and wild. Before … well, before Pietro died.

No, he didn’t die. He was murdered. Which then led Wanda to becoming a murderer herself. God knows how many people she had killed or killed herself over the years to get where she was now. At first it bothered me; I worried for her safety and for her sanity, but now I realized that it was just a part of her. She kept her hands clean nowadays, but she still was responsible for the disappearances of quite a few people.

“What am I supposed to do if I can’t go out?” I asked, sadness in my voice.

“Well,” she started, fixing her outfit. “You can come into my office and suck my cock while I make some calls.”

“That’s all you want me for - for your pleasure.”

“Do you think I can feel it when you suck off my plastic dick?” She snapped. “No, after you get it nice and wet I plan on fucking you in all of your holes until I’m satisfied.” She let out a huff. “Or until you’re completely blissed out.”

I didn’t understand her desire to fuck me until I couldn’t think anymore. But I know she liked it when I was being controlled by her, my pleasure, my pain completely in her hands. Rarely did she get herself off when she was in one of those moods, focusing completely on me. Maybe there was a part of her that still loved me and wanted me to feel pleasure and love from her, or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part. Wanda was a cruel woman, and whatever her reasons were to do what she did were purely selfish, whether or not I knew what she was getting out of it.

She turned her back on me and began walking off towards her office when I finally spoke again.

“I’m leaving.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, but kept her back to me.

“I just told you -”

“No, Wanda,” I interrupted her. “I’m leaving you.”

She was silent and I held my breath as the silence between us filled the room. I could almost hear her heavy breaths as she turned to face me, her green eyes dark and filled with rage.

“You’re what?” Her voice was dangerous and low.

“I’m … leaving you.”

Her steely look cracked and she smiled, letting out a cold laugh.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

I gritted my teeth, my jaw clenching as I stared back at her. I didn’t think leaving would be easy, as a matter of fact, I expected her to put up a fight, but I wouldn’t back down.

“Yes I am. I’m going to stay in our old apartment for a while. I know you still rent it, I’m not stupid.”

Hurt flashed across her features and I realized I might have gone too far bringing up our old place. I knew that she kept it because it was the last place she and Pietro lived together, and even though it was vacant, she kept up with utilities and maintenance so it would be in livable condition.

“Fine.” She snarled at me, waving me off. “Go.”

I let out the breath I was holding and watched as she stormed off. Wanda was never one to chase anything, especially in her current position of power, so I knew I wouldn’t be any different. She expected me to come crawling back to her - but I wouldn’t.

I also knew that she would be sending either Dimitri or Leo to stalk me while I spent time away from her. She would never truly let me go, not really.

I got up from the table, pushing my seat out and rushing off towards our shared room. Despite how tense and angry we both became, we stayed near each other, sleeping together, even making love, if you could call it that.

I made it to our room, throwing together my clothes and finding a suitcase in one of the closets, I got ready to leave. I knew that I didn’t really want to leave her. I just wanted her to need me, to miss me, to love me. But she never would. Never again.

Tears flowed down my cheeks as I packed, stuffing everything in the suitcase haphazardly, just wanting to get out of there. This house was no longer a home, it was hell.

I rushed down the stairs, dragging my suitcase behind me and approached the front doors, where Leo was already waiting. With a defeated sigh, I nodded and he took my bag, leading me out to the car that was already ready to go. She was predictable.

I sat in silence as Leo drove us back to the old neighborhood, tears still flowing freely as we made our way there. The drive was quick, maybe forty minutes with no traffic, and I couldn’t wait to get inside the apartment and just sleep. We parked out front and Leo took my suitcase out of the trunk, lugging it up the stairs after me. When we made it to the front door, I realized I didn’t have the key to get in, so I stepped aside and, surprise surprise, Leo had it. We entered wordlessly, and I was damn near speechless at the sight of the place. It was like it had been frozen in time. All of Pietro’s things were still here, untouched, and even some of our old things were here.

“Wanda …” Leo started as he placed the suitcase down on the ground near the couch. “She really does care about you, you know.”

I sighed sadly, knowing that if Leo could see it, it must’ve been obvious. But clearly not obvious enough to Wanda herself.

“Yeah,” I sniffled, walking over to the fridge and seeing that it was completely empty. “Guess we gotta go get some food.”

“I’ll go.” He said, making his way towards the door. “She, uh, gave me a list of things you like.”

My heart fluttered at his words. She had really done that? Of course she had. Control freak Wanda. I sighed and nodded at his words, watching wordlessly as he left. I grabbed the suitcase from beside the couch and dragged it into our old bedroom. I was hit with memories as I entered the room, the familiar smell of us flooding my senses. I brought the suitcase to the closet and started unpacking.

After a few moments of putting my shirts on hangers, I heard the front door creak open.

“What happened, Leo? You forget something?” No response.

Odd. I placed whatever clothing I had in my hand back into the suitcase and went back into the living room, noting the now closed door and the slight chill indicating that the door had indeed been opened recently.

“I finally got you alone.”

I spun around, clutching at my chest as I faced the intruder in my apartment.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“That isn’t very polite of you.” The blonde woman said, a smile on her face as she sat on my couch.

I looked around frantically, looking for a weapon of any kind to defend myself with. She must’ve picked up on this because as I launched myself at a nearby cabinet, she was on top of me, pinning me between her and the wooden cabinets behind me.

“What do you want?” I asked helplessly, wishing that I hadn’t left Wanda after all.

“First of all, I want you to calm down. I’m not going to hurt you, dekta.”

“Don’t call me that.” I snapped at her and she smiled.

“You’re feisty. I like that. I can see what she sees in you.”

I wriggled in her embrace and she let out a laugh, pressing herself against me.

“You’re getting me excited.”

“Get the fuck off of me!”

She grabbed me by my face and held me still, looking me over briefly before speaking again.

“Relax. I’m a friend of Wanda’s.” At her words, I tensed up.

“You’re lying.” I cried, trying to free myself from her grasp. “Wanda doesn’t have any friends.” I whispered, mostly to myself, and she smiled.

“You’re right. But, she has you.” She brought her face close to mine, our noses almost touching. “Or, she had you.”

“Let me go!” I yelled, trying my hardest to free myself from her iron grasp.

Her hand gripped at my face tighter, and she pressed her weight down against me further, and I almost felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“What do you want?” I asked again, her deep, darkened eyes staring back into mine.

“What do you think I want?”

“I don’t know!” I cried, my eyes shifting towards the door, hoping against hope that Leo would show up.

“Are you waiting for someone? Your guard dog, perhaps?”

My heart stopped at her words. Had something happened to Leo because of me?

“He’s been … detained.”

“What have you done to him?”

“Nothing - yet. Nothing if you agree to come with me quietly.”

“W-what? Why?”

She grit her teeth, her jaw clenching in frustration.

“You ask a lot of questions, little one. I promise all your questions will be answered, as long as you come with me.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and thought for a second. She knew about Wanda and Leo, and I wasn’t dead, so who could she be? Was she working for someone Wanda knew? Was she -?

“I see those wheels turning in your head. Let’s do it this way then.” She huffed. “If you don’t come with me, I’ll slice your guard dog’s throat wide open and send his eyeballs to your mistress.” My eyes widened at her words. “Then, I’ll visit her personally and -”

“No!” I cried. I’d do anything to protect Wanda, even though I was sure if she could get close enough to Wanda to kill her, she would’ve done it already.

“Then you’ll come.”

I swallowed roughly and she smiled, seeing my resistance fade.

“It’s for the best. I really like this outfit - wouldn’t want to ruin it with Sokovian blood.”

•

@marvelogic @casquinhaa @mathxa @oh-thats-cute @ornorr @milkeeteaa @souanick

[slimmestofshady]

Bad Habits Kill You

Summary: The 90s in Detroit wasn’t exactly easy to live in with two kids and a boyfriend who redeveloped a bad habit.

Warnings: Drug Addiction, relapse, toxic relationship, abusive on both sides, accusations of cheating but no actual cheating, swearing, mention of smut, mention of drug dealing, breast feeding, robbery

6 calls, 13 text messages later and you found yourself driving home with your 3 year old daughter strapped in the carseat, livid that Marshall hadn’t picked up the phone. Working two jobs and trying to live life comfortably was becoming difficult as you felt like you were the only one here trying to keep the family afloat. This had been the fifth time this week you had to leave early and pick her up due to your boyfriend not showing up. Two write ups later with the check engine light on the car, hardly any gas in it and needing an oil change that you couldn’t afford you unbuckled her, carrying Ellie inside only to hear your newborn screaming once again.

Scoffing, you pushed open the broken screen door, the object squeaking when it was pressed back only to find Marshall’s blonde head fast asleep on the couch, a bowl of weed sitting right out on the rickety table next to Sara’s play pen.

“Mommy, why is daddy always tired? He never eats with us either.” You knew what this was, rehab hadn’t been working and it wasn’t just the sleeping pills he was taking. What were you supposed to say to her?

“Daddy’s just been very busy, why don’t you go play with your toys? Okay?” You smooched her on her delicate little head, ruffling her hair. A child at that young of age shouldn’t even have to ask those questions or ask why other kids have more than you did. Even in a relationship it felt like you were a single mother just trying to make ends meet. 

Picking up Sara from her crib you kneed him lightly in his side in irritation, causing him to moan and groan, mumbling something about being cold in the process. You kneed him again to which he turned around and shouted in his groggy state, his baby blues eyes dilated with dark circles shading his white skin.

“What?!” His temper was not in the slightest controlled, only pushing you farther past your limit of being civil or concerned for his well being.

“You were supposed to pick Ellie up, and do you hear that? That’s your other daughter crying to be taken care of which I can see you’re doing a great job at.” He clenched his jaw, folding his hands together, rubbing them. He got up, closing the distance between the both of you pointing an accusing finger directly in your face.

“I know how to be a fucking parent Y/N. Besides you’re one to talk, did Andre fuck you yet cause he been blowin up the phone all god damn day.” Taking Sara to her room, you rolled your eyes from having the same argument every fucking day while laying her in the crib, but he followed.

“At least he offers to watch the kids, more than you’ve ever fucking done! Tell me how many pills did you fucking pop today and don’t lie to me because I can see you’re clearly stoned. Fucking blanked out and shit.” You closed the door once you layed her down, refusing to argue with him in front of the kids but that didn’t mean they didn’t hear.

His hand wrapped around you arm pulling you back until you were pushed against the wall of the tiny hallway, giving you no personal space as he spat his venomous words.

The tensions was rising, only fueling your immense anger. This was the same old song and dance as every other fucking day. Why didn’t you leave? Well it’s easier said than done when you loved someone.

“I’m not fucking stoned babe I’ve been working on a new song and just fell asleep. Besides I don’t see you bringing any money so where you been if it ain’t work?” He pulled out a red piece of paper in his pocket with the words “EVICTION NOTICE”. Snatching the paper out of his hands, you noticed they only were giving you a week to pack your shit and get out due to being nearly three months behind on rent.

Scoffing you shoved the paper at his chest, trying to walk away but he didn’t let you shoving you back against the wall again.

“Marsh, don’t start your fucking shit okay?! I’ve been working my ass off but god forbid I work a full fucking shift because your ass has to be sat on this fucking couch, smoking dope and taking your fucking sleeping pills and xanax!” As he started cussing you out, you didn’t think before slapping him harshly across the face when he accused you of cheating once more based off the basis of no money coming in yet you’re always “at work.”

“What the fuck y/n! You don’t want to play this fucking game with me aight?!” Right before you could spit fire back, Ellie walked out of her room crying, causing you both to stop. She was just a child and didn’t ask or sign up for any of this. A sympathetic look of sorrow washed over Marshall and yourself the tension dwindling ever so slightly when you saw her teary, beading eyes, her cheeks reddened from the hostile situation.

With open arms, he picked her up cradling her against his chest as his hands rubbed her back gently.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. Mommy and I will stop arguing okay?” You crossed your arms, huffing from this constant fighting but seeing how quick he was when he was awake to console her, and ensure those crybaby tears stopped was heart warming. He had the potential to be such a good dad if he would just set the drugs aside but maybe that was too much to ask.

“My-my tv is gone, all-all my stuff is gone!” With frantic eyes, you both pushed open the door to see the room a wreck, and multiple items missing. Some of her blankets on her bed, her stuffed animals gone, even her piggy bank that had nearly $500 in it. It had taken over a year to save it, in hopes of starting a fund for her when she was 18, and now it was just gone. 

You couldn’t hold back the tears, feeling like everything was just crumbling down. They flowed freely down your cheeks, Marshall noticing and trying to pull you in to his side with his other arm but you waved him off, walking into the bedroom and closing the door. How much more of this could you take? There were shootings at least once a week, you were barely able to afford food, living off food stamps that barely covered shit. Whenever it seemed to be going great or a little better than before, everything would just turn to shit.

As you slumped down onto the bed, you couldn't help but notice the bathroom light still open, the shattered mirror from the night before slightly ajar.

Pushing yourself off the bed, you walked into the room with a dreadful feeling, hoping you weren't right. Taking a deep breath, you opened the object only to find the 3 pill bottles completely empty with their lids off, how much shit did he fucking take.

There was a knock at the door pulling you from your thoughts, but when you heard his voice asking if he could come in your blood boiled. When you didn't respond he pushed the door open, Sara no longer in his hands. When he saw you had found the empty bottles, he had a guilty look on his face but not remorseful.

There was a dead silence as you stood with your arms crossed shooting daggers his way.

"Tell me again that you're not fucking using. I'm not fucking stupid. How do you expect me to become closer with you when you can't even own your shit! This is getting old, and I don't know how much longer I can do this!" A switch like the atomic bomb flipped inside of him and he wasn't thinking before he pushed you on the mattress as you pounded against his chest, but you were never a match compared to his strength.

He folded his hands around the warmth of your neck, shaking you in place but not squeezing hard enough to cut off circulation.

"You don't know what it's like! Who the fuck are you to judge me huh? We're livin in this broke down piece of shit fuckin trailer, I'm tryin to fuckin write songs and start a good life for us, while you bring some dude around our fuckin kids when I'm not home, actin like you perfect, you ain't perfect either!" The tears welled in your eyes in a mix of emotions. He was right neither of you were but how did you get to this point. You had a plan, a good one, but everything kept getting taken away from you. It was like playing ring around the rosey but always falling down. You stared into his ocean eyes while sniffling when he finally released your neck.

"Fuck!" He screamed with profound irritation. You were both tired of fighting nearly every day, it was draining but the love was still there even if it was minuscule at times.

"Can you tell me truthfully I'm not being replaced by your fuckin' boss at work?" His eyes settled for a moment, just needing to know the truth.

"Marshall there is nothing there, nothing has happened. I'm just trying to find someone to watch the kids and I clearly have to even when I'm not home." A sorrowful look of hurt and guilt crossed over his face. You weren't wrong that he wasn't trustworthy to his own god damn kids and he wasn't wrong that you should've at least asked him about Andrei watching the kids. He was a private man, he didn't like strangers around the house let alone his kids.

As your breathing steadied, Marshall buried his head in the crook of your neck, allowing a singular tear to slip from his eye and land on your skin. He wanted to be better a father, a better boyfriend but it was so difficult during times like these.

"You need to get help baby..." A choked sob escaped you. You hated seeing him like this, he was better than this.

He had gone five months sober and when you noticed the signs he was using again you hadn't asked again after how irritable he was with you the first time, until today at least.

This wasn’t all on him though, the relationship issues anyway.

in his own head he felt there was no going forward, there was no escaping the impending, disastrous thoughts in his mind. The drugs soothed those intrusive thoughts, how could he lose himself inside his own head if he was asleep?

“I know, I know…” You both layed there for a moment in each others company. Neither of you calling the cops about the break in since they never seemed to actually do anything given where you lived.

“Maybe we should take the kids out for dinner or something, get Ellie’s mind off her things being gone.”

“Well how much do we got in the account?” You shook your head, sitting up and waving your hands up in the air with defeat.

“Not enough. I think altogether for the month we have around $120.” Fuck. He couldn’t do shit for his kids but somehow had enough money to get drugs? His mind twirled, the stress and realizing his priorities weren’t straight pressing an immense weight on his shoulders.

A thought crossed his mind of what if he started to sell only using every now and then? That would surely bring in money, especially around this neighborhood and keep you afloat for the time being but he didn’t say it.

He also had to worry about the kids. He refused to let them be homeless.

“Let’s take them we’ll figure it out. We aigh’t now?”

“Only if you promise me you’ll get help. I’m here to support you, okay?” Your hand caressed down his cheek as you stared into his baby blue hues, he nuzzled into your touch nodding before helping you out of bed.

Ellie was sat coloring with the crayons she still had on the living room floor wrapped in a blanket. That was another thing you were behind on, the fucking heat bill but that was a concern for another day. Luckly the electric and water seemed to still be on for the time being.

Marshall swooped her up in his arms peppering her face with loving kisses while ruffling her hair. He was always so good with her, such a caring dad and the sight made your heart melt. Moments like these made the fights seem almost pointless.

“Are you and mommy done fighting?” Her voice was so sweet and innocent, her small fist clenching and grasping at Marshall’s white shirt. The small gesture warning his heart. He just wanted his daughter to be happy.

“Yes baby. Daddy loves mommy we just have a lot going on, adult stuff you don’t need to worry about. Let’s get you and sissy some dinner, okay?” She nodded against him, perking up when he mentioned McDonald’s. It wasn’t the healthiest but it was affordable and it made her happy and that was all that mattered right now.

Passing her to you, Marshall went out to the car throwing a raggedy, old gray sweatshirt on before lighting a cigarette as he started the car. It took him about three times for the car to turn over, rickety old piece of shit, he was just grateful the heat was working for his angels. Checking the glove box, he ensured his gun was still there while a car passed by slowly, music blaring. He was skeptical of everyone and everything in this neighborhood, especially when something like today happens for the fifth time this year.

Pushing the door open, Marshall rushed to your aide to help Ellie down the stairs, avoiding the section with a nail sticking out of the wood while you carried Sara in your arms.

“Should we get gas?” You shrugged, nodding and informing him you still had work and Ellie had daycare to attend.

“How much we’re paying for that again?”

“Nearly $100 a month.” He hasn’t realized how expensive it was, scoffing and mentioning how the government expects people to live off minimum wage jobs and take care of their children.

Dinner seemed to be going smoothly, Ellie was making friends and playing in the play pin section of the restaurant while you and Marshall sat with Sara near the window in a close distance, sharing a milkshake while laughing over the memories of the past.

“Be careful sweetie!” Marshall yelled after Ellie noticing how close she was to slipping a falling off a plastic cube. She nodded to her dad, going back to her activity.

He couldn’t help but glance down at your tits, they’d gotten so big from the swelling of breast feeding. One of the things he loved that happened when you were pregnant. He bit down on his bottom lip intrigued, making a comment about how even after giving birth he still would take you right here right now over this table had their been no kids around.

Smacking him playfully with your cup, you giggled. It was about time she needed to be fed but before you could excuse yourself to the restroom, Ellie came up to have a drink break, not wasting a minute before she blurted out,

“Mommy, when is Andre coming over again? He likes to color with me and he talks about you a lot…” You we’re at a standstill for words, being left speechless by your toddler. Marshall’s jaw clenched, his hand forming a fist as he held his composure. He simply said, “Believe me now? Hows that for truth?” Ellie yanked on her dads sleeve, asking for a refill on her drink giving you the perfect way out of the situation.

“I’m going to feed Sara, I’ll be back in a couple minutes.

“Yeah, aight. You do that.” Arriving home, the car ride was mostly silent. Marshall laid Ellie down in your bed as she fell asleep in the car, too worried about her being in her own room and the same for Sara moving her crib for the night near the back corner of your room where the light wouldn’t be in her face but she’d still be close.

While you were still in the living room changing laundry, he stumbled into the back of the closet, reaching for a small box that was hidden under a flap in the carpet, popping a pill or two in his mouth, rinsing them down with water from the sink.

He closed the door lightly to not wake either of your kids, walking out into the living room and not hiding that he was not in a good mood, slouching down into the couch.

“So when the fuck did you plan on telling me that he been coming over into my fucking house with my fucking kids? You didn’t even ask me.” You sighed, knowing that resurfacing the topic if anything to with Andre would end badly, especially after the comment Ellie made.

“It was only one time babe, you were out with your friends, I was working late, Nate was out of town. I didn’t exactly have a choice. Those things Ellie said, I understand you are upset but until we can find someone else I don’t know what you expect me to do or what we’re going to do come next week.” Closing the dryer, you accompanied him on the couch, not looking for a fight but a resolution, but he loved to fight.

“I don’t want some strange, douchebag guy that wants to sleep with my girl around my kids Y/N. Plain and simple. Don’t worry about next week I’ll figure it out.” The way he ended the sentence meant there was no room for any other decisions. He wouldn’t allow it and quite frankly he was ready to choke this bitch out and arrange a little meetup in an ally to beat the shit out of him “And I don’t want a boyfriend who is high all the damn time yet here we are. Your bad habit isn’t just killing you, it’s killing us.” Yeah maybe you were right but maybe his trust issues got in the way of that cause as far as he was concerned if he saw Andre or even heard about him being here again he was gonna call up some of his buddied and make him a dead man.

This constant back and forth bullshit was getting you nowhere and frustrating the every living fuck out of him.

“I promise you I’ll go into rehab again once we get this shit figured out. But you gotta promise he ain’t coming around our kids anymore, and tell him to get rid of this fuckin number.”

“ And I will okay? No more Andre. I promise.” He nodded still not believing this guy was going to leave you alone but for now he wanted to relax, the pills already taking effect and making him drowsy he just hoped you couldn’t tell. Trying to avert attention from himself, his hands grasped your thighs pulling you into his lap and caressing your ass cheeks making you giggle.

“What’re you doing?”

“What I cant feel my girl up? C’mon the kids are asleep. We could get in a round or two.” That would be nice and a big stress relief, you could already feel his large bulge growing beneath you, causing your pussy to throb in anticipation while you rolled your hips down against him before pulling your shirt off, revealing your breasts.

“What’re you waiting for then?” You leaned in closely to his ear, lips just brushing over the bottom lobe and biting playfully.

“Fuck me.”

[r0-boat]

Whb kings at an amusement park

Beelzebub invites you and the kings to the greatest amusement park in all of hell located in his Abyssos.

And amusement park based in hell peaks your interest and since you're being invited along with the rest of the kings You would be dumb to not take it.

Satan

Gehenna has an amusement park. However, it is very different from Abyssos. Abyssos are more closely related to amusement parks on Earth, whereas in Gehenna, their parks are more active. So, honestly, Satan was a little confused when he could have found any trampolines or rock climbing walls or anything to punch and destroy for fun. However, the culture shock dies when he tries to ride a roller coaster. And he loves it! Holy fuck he loved roller coasters. Satan is an adrenaline junkie. Any fast ride that spins or goes fast or dives or drops he will be going there so fast. He will ride it till he pukes and then ride it again. The games he thinks are a little lacking, but only because his idea of games is something more active where he runs or, tosses, or swings something to get the aggression out.

Mammon

Mammon wishes he could ride the roller coasters but he does not think the seats will fit his size. in his personal opinion he finds the amusement parks and any other entertainment in Abyssos far more entertaining than the ones in tartaros. Since the people of Tartaros are more into electronic games and are more interested in staying in their luxurious houses and spending their money on material items and luxurious treatment, Mammon has yet to see an amusement park in Tartaros; well unless you count Resorts. Mammon will try any ride and he will love it all the same. Though he doesn't get how games work. Why work so hard to win one toy if he could get you hundreds of the same little stuff plush. So strange...

Leviathan

He hates this place. He hates everything about it! It's loud, crowded, and noisy; there are too many people he doesn't know. He wants to go home. Why is Abyssos so great? The parks in Hades are more relaxing, soothing, and tasteful than the rickety steel contraption that he barely trusts, which probably breaks all safety violations. He will only ride the slow, nice rides.

Levi is a master at the mini-games tho. (It's almost as if he had centuries of training. What? No. What are you talking about? Shut up! He has never seen this place in his life!) He will gladly show you anything, and it's fun to see you struggle at the stupid mini-game, where he can master it in one shot without even looking at the target.

Beelzebub

He knew you would like this park. It is grander than any park on earth. It has everything you could ever dream of and more no really everything... A Roman gladiator coliseum where demons fist fight bare naked where anyone could join in. The only rule was no killing each other. (inspired by the ancient Romans)

Beel is also a master at the games here and knows every ride and tells you how many times he's gone on it in his lifetime. He makes you try the food and the rides. He challenges Levi to the games "like the good old times." The reason why he invites you or the kings to a lot of his parties is because he likes to be a host. He's gluttony and he wants to have fun and he wants more fun, and what's more fun than sharing the fun with other people?

And then he gets swept up into the crowd. Damn it now you have to find him...

Lucifer

Interesting. He's never seen this side of hell before. An amusement park or anything entertaining like that is such a lost concept to him. He doesn't even know what to do. You must teach him to ride things, Play mini-games, and have fun. Which the Kings will happily do. Not every day do you teach the once God's favorite angel who has now fallen how to do ring toss. With every game and ride he goes on, He has more and more fun, and at the end, he responds with a simple "I like it," "It's okay," and "I don't mind it."

Belphegor+Beleth

Beleth got the king of sloth in one of those pull carts. Beleth doesn't mind; consider him as one of the kings. Honestly, he wants to catch up with Beel. Beleth plays all the games and rides for him until Beleth scolds him or Belphegor finally wants to get up from the cart and do something. Other than that, Belphegor is completely okay with watching. He prefers it. He likes watching. He feels like he's in the vicinity, he's participating in some way even though he's not actively doing anything.

The one ride he went on was the lazy river, which he proclaimed wasn't lazy enough. After that, he says he'll go on any other ride that doesn't move too fast, and all he has to do is sit. Other than that, he is happy just sitting here trying all the food, playing a game, or sitting with the stuff. He asks Beleth to take videos and photos.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Rest Had Seemed The Sweetest Thing.

Bucky's slowly learning that love isn't a finite resource. aka, Bucky's first Christmas.

pairing - bucky barnes x female reader

warnings - none!! just tooth rottingly sweet fluff <3

word count - 1.7k

author's note - based on these two requests!! i'm also trying a new post format... what do we think?? I promised you i'd get a couple of xmas fics out before the 25th... I lied. apologies!! forgive me. title taken from the poem The Owl by Edward Thomas.

as always, if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics. thanks, angels <3

masterlist. inbox.

He whispers the words, timid and reserved, directly into your ear as if he's worried someone else will hear. It's only the two of you sat on the couch in your shared apartment, but Bucky's nervous.

Your head whips around in shock, trying to play it cool. Failed.

"Are you... are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

You grin, big and blinding, the beams of it radiating into Bucky's bones. It settles into his muscles, eases the tension from his shoulders.

You try not to make a big deal of it, try to keep your excitement under wraps. But you've been waiting for him to say those words for almost six years.

"I want to do Christmas this year."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

He hates the cold.

No, he's traumatised by the cold.

Years spent frozen, genetically modified and locked in a glorified freezer. Every gust of wind, every flake of snow reminds him of the darkest days with no light to be seen. His blood may run hot, but he feels like his heart is yet to thaw. He debates moving to the desert at least ten times a day.

Then he looks at you. How happy you are when winter comes around. The way your face lights up when it snows. And he figures that if it brings you this much joy... maybe he can tolerate it.

He bites back the chill, grits his teeth at the icy breeze, ignores the shudder of the cold all the way down to his bones. He grins and bears it, because you love it. He thinks you don't notice.

You do.

You've known ever since you met him. His demeanour changes when the winter comes around. He gets a little tentative around the autumn time, as if he's preparing himself for the worst. And then the first snow falls, and he's different. Guarded. Careful. Reluctant. He puts a fake smile on his face and pretends, but you're nothing if not completely in tune with everything Bucky Barnes.

You never asked, never pried. Just stood steadily by his side, regardless of the walls he'd placed around himself. Around his heart.

He broke down one night, wrapped up in bed with you. A chill had blown through your old apartments rickety windows and unearthed old memories, ice running into his veins. He was sure his tears were frozen as they dripped down his face.

You understood him better, since that day.

You've tried to suggest moving in subtle and not so subtle ways, but he won't have it. He knows this is your home. He knows you like it here. He knows he can stay, if he works a little harder on himself.

So, he tries. Every single day, he tries. And that's all that matters.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Okay, so... ground rules. Hit me, Buck. We do this on your terms."

He thinks for a moment before turning to face you.

"I want it to be just us. No one else."

"Done."

"And I don't wanna do the whole Christmas dinner thing. Feels like too much all at once."

You fight the urge to burst into tears at how easily he's communicating with you, how effortlessly he's enforcing his boundaries. You've come a long way.

"Done. Agreed, by the way. Fuck Christmas dinner. We'll do our own thing."

He grins at you, leaning in to kiss you slowly, tenderly, leisurely. Like you have all the time in the world.

"I want to get a tree. And lights. We don't have to do all the ornaments and stuff, but lights would be nice."

"I have an artificial tree in the back of the storage closet... is that okay?"

"Perfect. I don't want to stand on all the pine needles, anyway."

Laughing, you shift closer to him, tangling your legs together on the couch.

"And no gifts for me."

"But Buck-"

"Angel. I don't want anything. I have everything I need sat next to me."

You roll your eyes, but you can't wipe the smile off your face.

"This isn't fair, suddenly."

"It's plenty fair. You stress too much when you buy gifts, and this is going to be a stress free Christmas. Understood?"

He hooks his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Understood," you whisper, swinging your knee over so you're straddling him. "Stress free."

Bucky tilts his head up to kiss you, gentle at first, then firmer when you roll your hips into his. He's a little distracted, admittedly. He got you to promise not to get him anything, but made sure you wouldn't ask the same. His mind runs a mile a minute, trying to wrack his brain on what kind of gift to get for the love of his life, the person that saved him and continues to save him every single day.

He comes up empty, but lets you kiss the thoughts away for a little while.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"My mom taught me this specific way to hang lights on your tree. Look, grab this end and I'll show you."

You're both still in your pyjamas, fire roaring, a jazzy Christmas melody playing from the radio. You decided you wouldn't put up your tree until the day before, to save Bucky from feeling overwhelmed. It's worked, so far - he looks plenty relaxed as he chuckles and rises from the armchair.

"You're tall, so hold this above your head so they don't tangle."

You work diligently, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you concentrate. Bucky's happy to watch you, fighting the smile off his face every time you sigh in exasperation. Eventually, you step back and admire your masterpiece, satisfied and content.

"It's beautiful, baby," he whispers, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

He presses a kiss into your neck, then another, then another. Your eyes slip closed, and you sink into his embrace, feeling more at peace than you ever thought possible. You spend the evening by the fire, lying on the rug, room illuminated by the lights on the tree.

It's perfect in every way.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Merry Christmas, angel."

"Merry Christmas, Buck."

His hand finds yours under the duvet, pulling you in close. You tangle yourself around him like lights on a tree, all encompassed by his warmth.

"What's the plan for today, Sergeant?"

He presses a kiss into your temple, propping himself up on his elbow so he can see you properly.

"I say we make some breakfast, spend all day on the couch, and then maybe make some dinner? I know we said we wouldn't do a traditional Christmas dinner, but it'd still be nice to take the time to cook something."

"That sounds perfect."

In the kitchen, you make pancakes with copious amounts of maple syrup, strawberries and pieces of banana strewn across your plates.

"My Mom made us pancakes every Christmas morning, you know."

"You've never told me that."

"I know. I kind of refrained from ever talking about anything festive, because I didn't want you to feel guilty."

"For making you miss out for so many years?"

"I haven't missed out, baby. I chose not to do Christmas because I love you. And that love takes precedent over everything else."

Bucky kisses you then, across the kitchen table, full and golden and so full of love you almost fall off your chair. He tastes like blueberry jam and syrup and coffee, and you wish you could bottle it up and stick a little under your tongue when you get homesick.

"What changed?"

"Hmm?"

"Why now? I would have been content to never do Christmas again, if it made you happy."

"Because I realised something, a couple of months ago. We were sat in the park, and you were laughing at that dog chasing the boomerang. The sun was making you glow, like some sort of angel, and I just knew. I can do anything with you by my side. I can't put my future on hold because of my past."

You're fighting back tears as you look at him, so happy and content. You never thought this was possible, when you first met him.

And here you are.

Celebrating Christmas, showing him your childhood traditions, making pancakes like your Mama used to. You're sat at the kitchen table as the snow falls outside and the warmth that Bucky's love brings is keeping the chill at bay.

It doesn't get better than this.

"I got you something," he murmurs almost sheepishly.

"Bucky-"

"Don't yell at me! I know it makes me a hypocrite, I know I said no gifts, I know."

You roll your eyes, but watch his every move as he gets up and leaves the room. You finish your breakfast and put both of your plates in the sink, turning on the tap so they can soak. When you turn around, Bucky has returned.

He's on one knee.

There's a ring between his fingers, glinting in the winter sun. You're both still in your pyjamas, warm and full, not quite having shaken off the heavy embrace of sleep just yet.

It's perfect.

"Maybe it's cliche to propose on Christmas day, but... I want to replace all of my old memories with new ones. Memories like this."

You walk over to him, kneeling down in front of him so your eyes are level.

"You've taught me what love is, baby. And I can never repay you for that. But I can certainly try. Every day, I can try."

There are tears dripping down both of your cheeks, Bucky's grin matching yours. The two of you are overwhelmed in the best way, unsure of how to process the gravity of what you're feeling.

"Marry me, baby. Let's do this forever."

You lunge forward and smash your lips to his, laughing into his mouth.

"Yes," you breathe when you pull away. "God, yes. A million times yes, Buck."

His arms wrap around your middle as he picks you up, twirling you in circles around the kitchen, both of you shrieking with joy.

Bucky slips the ring onto your finger when he puts you down, both of you tilting your heads to admire it.

"I love you," you murmur, leaning up to press your foreheads together. "The cold can't touch you now, baby. This love will warm us forever."

The cold can't touch him now. Love will warm him forever.

@lizzystuffsthings <3

[twola]

idk if this is too vague, but arthur/f!reader in the classic trope of, oh my god I can't believe we both almost just died sex? did they both almost drown? Was there a fire? did he save her life? who knows! i feel like arthur would sees the woman he loves almost die and immediately fuck about it

Okay this has been in my asks for WAY too long and it’s such a good one and I wanted to do it justice.

Left Unsaid

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

When he think's he's almost lost you in a run-in with a rival gang, Arthur quickly gets over his nervousness in approaching you.

The bloodcurdling scream jolts him from sleep, making him stumble up from where he was sitting on a rickety chair in the main room of the old cabin. At first, he thinks it's a dream, but when the sound of breaking glass pierces the night, Arthur shoots up; the chair falling to the ground in a clatter as he quickly shakes the vestiges of sleep from his mind.

This abandoned cabin off of Eris Field seemed the perfect place to spend the night instead of making the trek all the way back to Shady Belle tonight - your yawning from behind him on his horse had him chuckling as he made the decision to stay - doing the gentlemanly thing and giving you the bedroom with the old single bed. As much as he’d like to be sharing it with you - he remained externally aloof - proclaiming that he’d sleep on the chair in the main room. He certainly did not dare to ask to share your bed - not now, probably not ever. 

But the rustling and thumping behind the door where you sleep has his heart racing - his hand flies to his revolver as he readies himself to throw his shoulder into the door and shoot whatever it is that is making that noise, but the door bursts open before he gets the chance.

A man stands on the threshold - dirty, and grimy, with a faded gray woolen military uniform and a yellow bandana around his neck.

Of course, goddamn Lemoyne Raiders.

The raider holds up his knife in front of him, and in the din of movement and chaos around them, Arthur can see the liquid sheen over the steel in the man’s hand.

The knife, dripping with blood. The man, seemingly unharmed. The door, slightly ajar, to the bedroom where you slept.

A cold stone settles in Arthur’s gut as he puts the pieces together. In an instant, he snarls, diving toward the man with little regard for his own person, tackling him to the ground and ready to rip him apart with his bare hands for what he’s done to you. As Arthur mounts himself on the man’s chest and begins to strangle him, the movement knocks the oil lantern off the table, crashing to the wooden floor and immediately bursting into flame.

The man’s neck snaps between Arthur’s hands and he immediately leaps up, moving toward the bedroom where you were sleeping.

Another body crashes into him, a Lemoyne Raider dressed like he is straight out of a Civil War battle tackles Arthur to the ground, the two of them tumbling along the floor and breaking through the rickety door to the porch. Arthur rolls backward, unsheathing his hunting knife as he grits his teeth, ready to slice this damn bastard into shreds.

Of course, the wannabe soldier is no match for the hardened outlaw. They sure as hell don’t make them like they used to. Arthur easily dodges a swing of the man’s fist and throws his weight forward. He sinks his knife into the raider’s gut, and immediately shoves him to the ground. He gurgles blood from his mouth as Arthur rushes over him, back toward the house.

The flames burst out the windows as he barrels back toward the door, grabbing at the handle and cursing aloud as it burns him. 

The constriction in his chest has settled into a churning in his gut as he prepared to kick the door in. At this point would he be finding your charred, lifeless body, having bled out on the floor because he couldn’t protect you?

“Arthur-!”

He steps off the porch, not sure if he is lightheaded or hallucinating, but you move toward him, hitching your skirts, blood covering your blouse, your hair wild.

“Jesus-” He crashes into you, having nearly leaped the final few steps, crushing you into his chest, nearly causing you to stumble.

He yanks you back, large hands on your shoulders, and looks you up and down, eyeing the blood patch on your blouse.

“N-not mine.” You breathe, but he does not move his hand from your ribcage. It presses inward, against the wet cotton, splaying across your side as if he did not believe you, checking for where the knife would have marred your flesh.

“Arthur-” You whisper, your hands tight on his biceps, “I’m alright.”

His eyes dart back up to yours, searching, pupils dilated, breathing heavily.

“Ar-”

You’re cut off completely as he pulls you against him and presses his lips desperately against yours, muffling your surprised yelp as his tongue demands entrance into your mouth. After a moment of shock, you melt into his embrace, fingers tightening on his shirt sleeves as you open your mouth to him.

He kisses you like you are the air he breathes. Like you are some kind of salvation… like he thought he almost lost something.

Arthur pulls back, breathing heavily, a flush having taken over his face, “Christ-” he goes to unwind his arms from you, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

It’s his turn to be cut off as your hands immediately travel to the collar of his shirt and you pull him down to your lips to kiss him again, needy as you moan into his mouth.

His arms immediately recircle you, hands moving down from your ribs, down, down to your waist, your hips, your rear. Hooking his arms around the back of your thighs, you’re lifted up, squealing in surprise into his mouth as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

Continuing to press into each other's mouths, you barely notice him walking the two of you back, further from the flaming cabin, into the woodline, and finally against a tree trunk a safe distance away. He pulls back, panting as you recline against it, his arms tight under your thighs.

He gazes upon your kiss-swollen lips; your heaving chest as you breathe heavily, your pupils blown wide in arousal. Arthur takes the opportunity to roll his hips once, his hardening cock pressing against your cunt, and your eyes flutter closed as a needy, breathy whine escapes your lips.

“Arthur-”

He does it again, maybe for his sake as much as your own, the blood rushing to his groin and filling his cock properly. He grits his teeth as the rolling becomes rutting, your gasps driving him insane.

Before he gets to the point of no return, he slows his hips and leans over to recapture your lips in another kiss. As he pulls his 

“Thinkin’ you was dead back there-” He pushes his lips to yours again, “Christ- I… I never told you-” 

One of his hands leaves your thighs, but you have no fear he’s going to drop you. He buries it in layers of cotton, pulling at your skirts to move them from his way, reaching your bloomers and pressing against your cunt, watching your face intently as you moan, the cotton separating you quickly dampening against his fingers.

He leans in again and groans against your neck. Grabbing the cotton tightly, he yanks until he feels the seams give way, the tearing sound ringing in his ears as he delves within the ruined fabric to your soaking folds. You jolt against him and whine loudly as he slides his fingers along the seam of your body.

Arthur covers your mouth with his own as he sinks his fingers into you, working you open as you clutch desperately at his shoulders.

After you’ve cried out several times in the night, his hand leaves you and you sigh at the loss, he shushes you gently as he works at the buttons of his trousers, finally freeing his cock from his pants after moments of fiddling. His hand returns to your thigh as he adjusts you in his arms. The head of his cock presses gently against the rim of your cunt.

Your hands move from his shoulders to cup his face, your thumb tracing his lower lip gently before he sucks the tip into his mouth, his eyes trained on yours.

He pulses his hips and his cockhead slips inside you. Your brows crinkle with the first vestiges of the ache of penetration, and he leans forward again to press his lips upon your forehead.

“What did you never tell me?” You whisper as he holds you on the cusp of joining, the precipice of sheathing himself into you.

One of his hands leaves your thigh, though you are completely unafraid of falling with your legs wrapped around him and the strength of his other arm. His fingers brush back a strand of your hair from your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear before his rough and calloused palm rests on your cheek.

“You’d have died and I woulda never told you I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows raise in shock as you clutch at him, and while you remain silent, after a moment, you pull him closer with your legs, nudging his back with your ankles, and he slowly slides himself inside you, inch by inch, until your hips touch and you mewl with the stretch. He hums softly before slowly, gently, rocking his hips, starting a slow rhythm as you get used to him.

His powerful arms keep you suspended against the tree trunk with each roll of his hips, each glide of the inches of him in and out of you, well glossed and hot with your slick.

Arthur’s lips press to yours incessantly, muffling your gasps and whines as he presses into you. After one particularly deep thrust, you throw your head back in ecstasy, bumping against the trunk of the tree.

“Careful there, darlin’,” Arthur slows his hips, and tightening his grip on your thighs, he pulls you away from the tree, you yelp and tighten your legs around his hips. He chuckles softly as he walks you, still joined, a few steps from the tree and slowly lowers the both of you to the ground on a patch of grass. Spreading himself out over you, he buries his head against your neck as he lets go of your thighs, his forearms on either side of your shoulders, rocking his hips into yours again.

The staccato whine of the syllables of his name escapes you as you hook your ankles around each other over his back. Carding your hands through his hair, your fingers interweave between his honeyed strands, his hat long gone in your desperation to join yourselves.

He presses himself up above you as his thrusts become more erratic, his breathing loud and heavy as he pounds you into the ground.

“God-” you cry out as your hands grasp his shirt, “Arthur, yes-”

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, looming over you as he careens toward completion.

You arch your back, your thighs wrapping tighter around him as you begin to babble - “Yes- Arthur… I love you too-”, another gasp as he hits that spot within you, “God - I love you so much-”

That’s it. There it is, stripped bare and bleeding out like an open wound, his heart catching in his chest at your confession, and his amazement leaves him speechless as he thrusts into you once more, holding himself as deep as he can possibly get into you, feeling you pulse and clutch around him, wailing your pleasure into the night. It’s only a moment more before he has the wherewithal to yank himself from you, in the nick of time as he spurts his seed over your cunt, dripping white into the dark curls at the joining of your legs.

He’s gasping, you’re gasping, and he groans as he settles himself to the side of you, barely able to hold himself up with the exertion. Your legs hang open as you pant, flushed from your cheeks down your neck.

One of his large hands spreads out over your chest, against your racing heart, and you turn your head toward him, breathing out through your nose as a smile graces your lips.

“Probably should get outta here before any more stragglers find us.” He says, out of breath as he removes his hand to tuck himself back into his trousers. You nod and sit up, pulling your skirts down over your legs.

“D’ya think…” you trail off as you watch him rebutton his pants before he pushes himself to stand. His hair is ridiculously ruffled from the amount of times you've run your fingers through it.

“Mm?” He holds out his hand to you to help you up. 

You take it, and he pulls you up into his embrace, his hand secure on your lower back.

“Was wondering if we could spend the rest of the night in Rhodes or somewhere instead of heading all the way back to camp…” You ask as you lay a hand on his chest.

He squeezes you closer to him. 

“Sounds mighty nice… certainly wouldn't mind a stay in a hotel room tonight.”

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 2

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

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

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

AN: I was overwhelmed by the response on Part 1 (in the BEST way). 🥹 Thank you so much for everyone who read and sent me your lovely amazing comments! Here's Part 2 a bit early for ya. 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: Idiots flirting, with a side of sexual harassment. 😪

Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"

Firehouse 25 was just as much a house as it was a home.

Especially for Dean Winchester.

In the common room, he sat down at his preferred corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. By now, the guys knew this was his spot, perfectly angled toward the new flatscreen TV someone donated last month.

Up until then, they’d had to hotwire the same tank from 1995, which had only got basic cable. Now at least the newer smart TV came with a subscription to Netflix, courtesy of the donor. 

Dean raised his favorite Batman mug to his face, expecting to imbibe some rich dark roast. What he got was a travesty.

Spitting out the brown soil water back into the mug, he coughed and grimaced.

“Jack!” he called out.

Jack Kline, the newest addition to the house, raised his head from where he was trying to scramble eggs in the open kitchen directly behind the couch.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.

“Why does this coffee taste like ass?” Dean asked. His voice was still gruff with sleep, as he depended on his morning coffee to wake him up, not assault his tongue.

Behind him, Jack blinked in confusion. “Uh…”

Dean finally turned around and gave the younger man a raised brow.

“What brand did you buy, Candidate?” he asked.

A candidate was a freshly graduated firefighter on probation. They were the rookie, the bottom rung of the totem pole, and Jack was that proverbial whipping post.

“Um…” Jack went to find the coffee canister he’d put away in the cupboards. He showed Dean the red plastic jug. “Folgers. It was on sale.”

“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Never Folgers, Candidate. Anything but fucking Folgers. The one thing we don’t skimp out on is quality joe.”

“That ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son,” Benny remarked, as he and Gordon entered the common room. Benny held a to-go mug he’d brought from home. After he’d seen what Jack brought for groceries yesterday, he’d taken no chances.

“What you wanna get is Gevalia,” Benny added.

“That European crap?” said Gordon. He took his usual spot at the dining table, leaning back in his chair. It left Benny to sit at the other end of the couch with Dean.

“Better than that piss water you drink,” Benny said with a smirk. Gordon raised a brow at him.

“Tea is medicinal, jackass.” The Black man raised a finger to punctuate his point. “It’s good for you. Unlike that carburetor fluid y’all drink.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, even though a grin edged at his lips. “All I know is, we need premium coffee, stat. Or it’s gonna be a cranky shift.”

“I can go to the store real quick,” Jack offered.

Say what you want about the kid’s poor taste in grocery buying, he was always willing to jump in when you needed him.

“Nah, stay on breakfast,” said Dean. “I’ll go afterwards. But remember, today you’re practicing rappelling drills.”

Jack nodded. “And lunch duty. And helping clean the truck, and all the bathrooms…did I miss anything?”

Dean shared a look with Gordon. Not only did he drive the truck, but he was one of the men Dean relied on most, as he had the next highest seniority on the job out of the whole firehouse.

Well, except for Benny Lafitte, Captain of the Rescue Squad. Squad members were considered specialists in complex rescue situations. They were highly trained on more sophisticated technical rescue equipment and rappelling, even scuba diving.

It took long years for a firefighter to make it onto Squad; something that Dean used to have ambitions for. But ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant on Truck 79, he realized that his role in this house was best served on the Truck, not on Squad.

“If he gets through all that, Meg might have something for him too,” Gordon said.

“Oh, don’t bring me into this,” remarked a droll voice. “I’ve already got one pound puppy to look after.”

Their Paramedic in Charge strode in with Chuck on her heels. They’d just pulled into the firehouse driveway on Ambulance 7.

“Nice. That’s how you talk about your partner of three years?” Chuck said with a frown. Meg turned to him with a wry grin.

“Only the ones who can hack it on my Ambo,” she replied. “What can I say. You’re special, Shurley. Either that, or a glutton for punishment.”

Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.

“Careful with that one. She chewed and hacked out her last partner in under a month.”

“Poor guy didn’t even transfer,” Dean added, making a “flatlining” motion with his hand. “He just quit. Dropped out of the Fire Academy that same day.”

Not all firefighters were made through Meg’s department, but it was a common route, working as a paramedic while getting put through your paces in the Fire Academy. Dean himself had gone straight to the Academy after getting his EMT certification.

But at Dean’s words, Jack’s eyes widened a fraction. Meg turned to him with an almost feline smile. 

“How was the call?” Benny asked her, speaking of the job they’d just returned from. Meg’s expression dimmed a little, as did Chuck’s as they both sat down at the table.

“Ah, just Henry again,” she said. “Overdosed on his insulin.”

Benny frowned, while Dean shook his head. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“Who’s Henry?” he asked.

Meg sat back in her chair with a subtle sigh. Knowing his work partner’s mood, Chuck answered the young man’s question.

“He’s homeless, lives by the river,” he said. “He’s one of our ‘regulars,’ you could say. When we get the call, usually he’s passed out. Dehydration. But sometimes it’s more serious.”

“You can’t take him to the hospital?” Jack asked in concern.

“Today we did,” Meg said. Her brown eyes met Jack’s, her mouth in a thin line. “But without health insurance, there’s only so much they can do after they get him stable.”

That fell a bit heavily into the room. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but it was the reality. Jack was learning more and more about that aspect of this job, and learning if he could handle the darker shades of what it could bring.

“Well, breakfast is ready,” he said, bringing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the counter. Dean tossed him an appreciative half-smile and got up from the couch.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, walking over along with everyone else. He took a moment to pat Jack on the shoulder.

“What do you want to do first: run drills, or help me and Gordon wash the truck?” Dean asked.

Jack looked up with a smile. “Can we run drills first?”

Dean nodded, grinning back at him. “Good answer.”

The rest of the Truck and Squad crews ambled in at both the announcement and the smell of food. And before long, the common room was filled with conversation, good-natured teasing, and shitty coffee all around.   

From his vantage point facing the open door to the driveway, Benny caught sight of a young woman heading towards the double doors with a large tupperware bin in hand. Bonnie the receptionist happened to be coming in at the same time. You asked her a question Benny couldn’t quite hear.

“Dean… Oh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Winchester?” Bonnie asked. Her voice tended to carry. “Right in there, hun.”

“Well, that sure is interesting,” Benny murmured with a smile. He glanced over slyly at his friend. “Heads up, brother.”

Dean looked up from his plate of eggs expectantly. Benny gestured over with his eyes, just as you walked into the firehouse, both cautious and unsure of where you were going.

Dean’s brows raised. He found himself setting down his plate and getting up from the couch before he really knew what he was doing.

You looked exactly how he remembered. Though this time, you weren’t coffee stained in your professional blouse and black pencil skirt. His attention drew briefly downwards to your heels, this time solid black (and even taller than the last pair, damn).

He noticed all the same things he had last time: the shade of your hair, pinned up again with a clip as stray pieces framed your face. The way you carried yourself when you finally saw him, straightening with a subtle confidence in your shoulders, even though you looked a bit nervous. And the pretty curve of your lips when your eyes found his.

“Hey, there,” Dean said. He gave you one of his trademark smiles. “Good to see you again.”

“Uh, hi,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you remember me.”

Dean nodded. “‘Course I do. What can I do for you?”

Your face seemed to freeze up a bit as you looked up at him.

“Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you said. And you glanced past him, where the rest of the firehouse members were discreetly watching. “All of you, actually. And my friend told me that firefighters really like food…but, I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

You laughed a little, in a nervous way that made Dean struggle not to smile too much.

“Anyway, I like to bake,” you twittered on, “and I had some time this week after…well, you know what happened. So…I brought this!”

You raised up your tupperware with a smile.

And you were damn adorable, Dean thought. His own smile deepened as he glanced down at the offering, then at you. He took the container and opened the lid, and was honestly surprised at what he saw.

He could’ve sworn these were Bonafede, just-poured-out-of-the-box Girl Scout cookies. Dozens of them. He saw shortbreads (complete with the little wavy lines), Samoa cookies with the coconut flakes, and even what looked like chocolate covered Thin Mints. They also smelled delicious.

“Wow. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, with genuine warmth. “I’m pretty sure the guys are gonna tear these apart the second I put ‘em down.”

Your face brightened, and Dean noticed how it reached your eyes with a bit of a blush.

“Well, I hope you guys enjoy,” you said. Your hands fiddled with your purse next.

“Heading off to work now?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, with a certain glint in your eye. “I plan on taking the stairs this time.”

Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”

“Gotta get my steps in somehow,” you joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to become a repeat offender, make you guys come all the way back across town again.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, meeting your eyes. And he found that he meant it. In fact, he didn’t think he’d mind if your building’s elevator broke down every damn week.

Your expression shifted towards amusement. “Well, you must be very dedicated to your job.”

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you. He had half a mind to heed his instincts, to take advantage of the signals he thought you were sending him, and ask if he could take you out sometime.

But it was unprofessional here at the firehouse (not that that had stopped him before). He’d been making efforts to curb that kind of behavior for the past few months.

He also remembered the 30 floors of your massive, fancy office building. He considered the price tags that probably came with the admittedly sexy, high-powered corporate look you had going on. Those were probably a lot more zeros than he was used to seeing on his paycheck.

So for once, he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate that,” Dean replied. His smile then was more sincere, if also more professional. He gestured at the container in his hand. “And on behalf of all the guys, thanks for this too.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I have to go, but…thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester.”

“Ah,” he shook his head, “just call me Dean.”

You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.

“Dean.”

He nodded back, sending you off with a smile of his own. He forced himself to taper it down after you left, and he had to turn around to meet his friends. Their grins reminded him of piranhas.

“All right. Out with it, you freakin’ jackals.” He waved his free hand in a “bring it on” gesture.

Meg was the first one to burst out laughing. It spearheaded the rest of them, whooping and catcalling and generally being menaces. Even Jack was grinning at his lieutenant’s expense.

Meg got up from her seat and bumped Dean’s shoulder on her way to the kitchen, where she dumped her dishes.

“Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He’d been prepared for this, but his face was still getting warm.

“Shut up, Meg,” he tossed back. They all had an ongoing Family Guy joke that never failed to make their PIC narrow her eyes. And she did so now, giving him a fake grimace as she left the kitchen.

“All right, kiddos. If you need me, don’t,” she said. “Chuck! Let’s sort the ambo’s inventory.”

“Got it,” her partner nodded. He too got up and placed his dishes in the sink before he took off after Meg.

This left Dean with the rest of the guys, who still gave him knowing smiles as he set your bin of cookies down on the table. He blew out a breath before he returned to the couch and sat down heavily across from Benny and Gordon.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Dean Winchester bitched out,” Gordon remarked.

Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Truly incredible,” Benny added. He shook his head when Dean just crossed his arms. “She was eying you like a pork cutlet, and you just let her walk outta here.”

“We’re in the house, guys. What was I supposed to do?” Dean groused.

Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time). 

“Get her goddamn number, Winchester,” said Gordon. The man’s lips curved. “Or at least, introduce her to a brother.”

Dean shot him a glance. Gordon Walker was damn good at driving the truck, but he was also known for being a hunter of the ladies himself.   

“She seemed nice,” Jack put his two cents in with a smile. He was standing behind the couch, leaning his elbows on it. Gordon scoffed, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah, with a fat ass too,” he said, sipping his tea. 

Benny reached over and hit his shoulder to shut him up. 

“That’s a lady, Gordon,” he said. Though a suspect smile graced his lips as he glanced at Dean. “A lady with a nice ass.” 

Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t disagree. The first time he met you, he’d been impressed by the way you stood your ground with your asshole boss. Dean thought you were going to chuck that lethal looking heel at the guy. But behind that steely exterior was a kind little softie.

Today, he got your sweet side. It was equal parts sexy and adorable. 

And damn if you didn’t have a nice ass, nice curves, and a nice mouth. 

But your eyes, he thought. Those were nothing short of beautiful. 

About twenty minutes across town, an apartment building was swarmed by police cars. One unit in particular was sealed off with yellow caution tape as a team of officers drifted in and out. 

What a fucked way to die.

Detective John Winchester observed the unnatural angle that the victim—Jerry Stillwell, a certified public accountant—had his throat cut with a jagged weapon.

It hadn’t been clean in the least. And he’d bled out across his work desk and a stack of papers, as well as his desktop computer. He was 45, unmarried, and murdered in his own home in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

The computer wouldn’t turn on, and not because of the blood. It had been wiped with magnetized technology, most likely by the intruder. Though there was no sign of forced entry, according to John’s partner. The murder weapon was missing as well, though it looked like a knife wound.

John leaned over the on-site medical examiner’s shoulder to peer closer at the man’s wounds. Stillwell had most likely been grabbed from behind. So far, the signs pointed to the culprit being someone the victim knew.

They probably took Stillwell by surprise, but he was a large man. If John had to guess, over 250 pounds, unathletic, but still, not easy to overpower. Likely the suspect was a man over 6 feet; strong, and efficient. Though the messiness of the kill made John think this guy took "pride" his work, so to speak.

“Signs of struggle,” said the M.E. “Skin under the fingernails. He fought back, and…huh.”

John’s interest piqued at the man’s shift in tone. “What?”

“Take a look at this.” The M.E. was holding Stillwell’s right hand, palm-up, revealing a small burn on the inside of the wrist. John’s gaze sharpened on the mark.

“Cas, come here,” he said. Across the room, Detective Cas Novak paused in his task of examining the entry points of the apartment to join John at his side. His blue eyes widened a fraction at seeing the burn. It was a symbol of a snake eating its own tail.

“That makes four,” Cas said.

“Yep. We’ve got ourselves a murder cluster,” John said. Cas nodded. He beckoned John to the side, making sure the M.E. was out of earshot before he spoke. “Isn’t it time we brought Sam up to speed on this, at least?”

John’s brows furrowed.

“No,” he said. “Sam’s an ADA. We don’t go to him until we have someone to indict.”

He walked away from Cas, who frowned. John knew damn well that wasn’t what he meant. This was the fourth murder within six months of this nature. The fourth to be branded with the mark of Azazel…a criminal who supposedly disappeared decades ago.

Shortly after November 2, 1983, the day of Mary Winchester’s death.

Seeing Dean again had gone better than you thought it would. It left you feeling light and downright cheerful when you left the firehouse this morning. Unfortunately, the great start to your morning only crumbled when you reached your office.

Now, even at the end of your day, finally back at home and in the familiarity of your kitchen, the tension headache was back.

“Dre, I’m tired. Can’t we do this another night?” you asked.

Your cell phone was balanced between your ear and your shoulder as you counted out your grandfather’s pills, and placed them in each “Monday through Sunday” box in the blue container.

“No, we absolutely cannot. Because today was horrific,” Andréa said. “For me, because my coworker decided to play hookie on the day our top account needed the mockups of their new website. Never mind that she hadn’t even started.”

Pause for an aggravated breath, through which you frowned in sympathy. She’d told you the entire story over lunch today.

“And for you, because Nick once again displayed why he’s a subhuman neanderthal, in spectacular fashion,” she added.

Your grimace deepened at the reminder.

Earlier today, just before a sales meeting you were set to lead, you’d turned away from the conference table to set up the projector. Nick was early for once, making it just him and you in the room.

He’d sat back in his chair and uttered a remark that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”

Your back straightened, and slowly you turned. Your face was set in stone, save for a solitary raise of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

Nick’s smirk was lazy as he kicked his feet up on the table. His hand held a tumbler of whiskey. You noted the half empty carafe, which just yesterday had been full and untouched.

“Fucking fantastic legs,” he said, vaguely outlining your shape with his hand. “I applaud you. It’s all very…sexy secretary. Oooh! Sexcretary. Fucking brilliant.”

You gaped, trying to put a clamp on the furious spike in your blood.

“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

He raised his fingers an inch or so apart, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh.

“Actually nah, not at all,” he bluffed. 

He let his hand fall back into his lap. You shook your head and set down your papers in order to cross your arms.

“Good. Then you’ll hear me clearly when I say, I’m filing a formal complaint with Billie in HR,” you said.

“Whaaat? Why?” he complained. You huffed incredulously.

“For your little comments, which are getting more and more heinous. Not to mention your excessive drinking during company hours.”

Nick pursed his lips. “Christ on a stick. Can’t you take a fucking compliment?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “What I refuse to take is any further sexual harassment. This isn’t the first incident I could disclose, but I’m damn sure you’ll want it to be the last.”

He kicked his feet off the table and slowly stood. You didn’t want to be afraid of this sloppy, frat boy drunken attitude, but a tendril of trepidation still laced down your spine as you took a step back.

“You could do that,” he nodded, tilting his head. “Or, I’ll give your Zimmerman account to Josh, along with your commission.”

You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense. 

“You…you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. Your insides fairly shook with frustration tinged with anger. “I’ll sue you.”

“With what money?” Nick scoffed.

Your brows knitted together then. How the hell would he know anything about your finances?

The man noted your reaction with a nod.

“Yeah, I know all about grammy and gramps. Surgeries, funerals, treatments…” he said. He leaned against the table with one hand, and still he fairly loomed over you.

He wasn't as broad as someone like Dean, but he was tall and lean. His dirty blonde hair was swept to the side, his blue eyes bearing down on you.

“I am this company. If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out, sweetheart,” he said.

His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.

“And good luck getting anywhere else without a reference from one of the biggest corporations in Lawrence, Kansas.”

You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve shed some frankly embarrassing tears in the women’s bathroom after that. You hadn’t even told Andréa the full story, which included the details of his comments, along with his threats.

You didn’t want her to worry. And maybe, more selfishly, you were embarrassed at having to deal with it at all.

Truth be told, you still didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. About Nick, or your job…but somehow, getting drunk at a bar seemed about the last thing you should be doing.

“I need a drink,” Andréa insisted. “Which means you definitely need a drink. And I know exactly where we’re going.”

After a long moment, you leaned your elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbed through the persistent ache in your forehead. Maybe, just this once, you deserved to forget about reality. Just for a little while.

“Fine. Where?” you asked.

“It’s this great bar Meg told me about. The Roadhouse.”

“Ah, the usual suspects,” Ellen drawled at the men who managed to find seats at her bar, next to the rest of their party. The Roadhouse was packed on a Friday night, but she always had room for these two.

Benny and Dean wore similar tired, but pleasant smiles as they greeted their esteemed barkeep.

“What’s it been, Ellen, a whole shift since I’ve seen your delightful face?” Dean said.

Ellen gave him a mocking smile as she poured him his favorite beer on tap. Dean grinned and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he sat down. He and Cas had been waiting for a little while.

…Well, maybe longer than a little.

“Hey, dude,” Dean said. Sam perked up from his second beer with pursed lips.

“You know we’ve been waiting on you for like an hour, right?” he said.

“Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy,” Dean teased. He nodded his thanks at Ellen when she set his beer in front of him, and a glass of whiskey for Benny. “We had a last-minute call. Some guy just couldn’t wait to start his Happy Hour. Drove his car into the company fountain.”

Sam’s brows raised incredulously. He looked over at Benny for confirmation, and the other man gave a resigned nod.

“Apparently it set the ducks into a tizzy,” he said. “The guy’s fine. Probably gonna get slapped with a DUI.”

Dean smirked and raised a finger at both Sam and Cas. “Duck Guy’s your problem now.”

Cas shook his head and raised his beer to his lips.

“Not my department.”

“Mine either,” Sam scoffed. Both of them worked in homicide cases, just from the differing sides of law and order. In fact, they worked together more often than Dean and Cas did.

Dean looked over at his friend Cas for a moment. He looked like more of a hot mess than usual, with his tie half undone, and a scruffy half-beard covering his face.

“Geez, man. You look like shit,” Dean remarked. “You and Meg fighting again?”

“No,” Cas replied, his brows furrowing. “…Well, yes. But nothing more than her usual insanity. Something about the cat preferring to sleep next to me than to her.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Benny said. “My dog don’t like her either.”

“Maybe they can smell that she’s feral,” Dean quipped. Cas sent him a dry look at that.

“She threatened to move out,” he revealed. “Even packed a bag at 3:00 in the morning. I spent two hours unpacking what she was re-packing, all while we argued in our underwear, not sleeping.”

Sam and Dean shared bemused looks, while Benny shook his head into his whiskey.

“So how’d it end up?” Sam asked. Cas sighed and took another long sip of his beer.

“Like it always ends, Sam,” he said, his lips quirking. “With our neighbors calling the precinct to complain, and me, somehow ending up sleeping on the couch for a crime I didn’t commit. If she wants to blame someone, blame the goddamn cat.”

Dean chortled. He brought his beer to his lips, but couldn’t resist a light jab at his best friend first.

“Dude, I love her like a sister, but your girlfriend’s unhinged,” he said.

Cas could only nod. “Most are, I’ve come to find.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “Not mine.”

“Yeah, that’s because Eileen doesn’t have to see you more than two minutes at a time,” Dean teased. He and his brother still shared an apartment, and Sam’s job as an Assistant District Attorney wrought demanding hours.

Sam shot his brother a flat look.

“Oh, I’m not taking that from the serial playboy,” he said.

Dean’s brows knitted together.

“All right, calm down,” he said. “I’m not Hugh Hefner.”

“Mr. Hit and Run,” Cas added, a smirk gracing his features.

“Chief ‘No Daddy Issues,’” Benny tipped in, giving his annoyed, green-eyed friend a sly glance. “With a side helping of the Clap.”

Dean’s lips pressed into a line. He leveled a finger at Benny.

“That girl was clean, okay? False alarm,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward as he sipped his beer. Thank Christ for that one. “The rash was just carpet burn.”

Sam shook his head and turned to his brother more seriously.

“Bottom line: until you date a woman for more than two weeks—hell, two days at a time—you don’t get to comment on the happily committed,” he said. 

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his track record with relationships. As in, he didn’t really have a record…but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At least, not for the past few months.

Sam managed to break Dean out of his thoughts by clearing his throat, pushing his empty bottle across the counter.

“All right, speaking of. I gotta go,” he said.

“Aw, why? We just got here. Let me buy you another,” Dean offered.

Sam shot his brother another knowing look. Dean knew it well; it said, if he’d been here on time, they would’ve shared the first two drinks.

“I’m picking up Eileen,” Sam said, grabbing his blazer and fixing the collar when he put it on. “There’s this Latin club she wants to go to.”

Dean raised incredulous brows.

“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”

Sam sighed in exasperation, despite his smile. “Bye, Dean.”

He shot his other two friends a nod.

“See you guys.”

Cas and Benny both saw him off with a subtle raise of their drinks, while Dean just shook his head.

“All right, Samantha,” he called out. Sam didn’t bother to turn around as he raised up a choice finger behind him.

Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”

Benny and Cas shared a wry look. They were relieved when Ellen’s daughter Jo came by, picking up the slack for her mom, who was serving a rowdy group of college kids at a nearby table.

“Hey, guys. Need another round?” Jo asked. She gave them all a familiar smile, but her eyes lingered on Dean. He gave her a more reserved smile back.

“Hey, Jo,” he nodded. “I uh…actually think I’m good right now.”

“Me too,” Cas said. He even stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat in similar fashion as Sam had. The two had paid for their beers before Benny and Dean even got there.

“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.

“If I don’t make dinner, we run the risk of the apartment going up in flames,” Cas informed him. Dean could only assume he was talking about Meg. “Despite working with the Fire Department for ten years, the woman can’t manage to boil an egg without supervision.”

Jo raised a brow, but her smile was bemused as she turned to Benny. “Anything for you?”

“Nah, darlin’. I’m good,” he said. But sensing the unspoken request in her eyes when she glanced at Dean, Benny straightened and raised from his seat. “But I’ll be back. Need’a hit the head.”

Dean internally sighed as Benny left him alone at the bar. Or, well, relatively alone. Jo lingered in front of him to wash and dry out a few glasses. The air between them was stiff, and a little awkward.

Dean’s thoughts shifted back to his brother then; while he still couldn’t believe Eileen had wrangled his gangly Sasquatch of a brother into going dancing, Dean was happy for him. Truly and sincerely. Sam deserved having someone who softened him, made him break away from his endless cases and have some fun.

Dean could also admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe a little jealous. Sam had something good with his girl. Something real.

Dean had carpet burn.

“So, how’s studying going?” he asked Jo. He couldn’t stand awkward silences. “Still planning on giving your mom a heart attack when you get into the Police Academy?”

Jo’s blue eyes flicked up to his. She brushed a coil of blond hair behind her ear after she finished drying a glass, and a smile raised the corner of her lips.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave her something to yell about,” she quipped. “But since you asked…my exam is in three months.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “You’ve got time. Study your ass off. Keep up the conditioning routine I gave you, and you’ll be set. Just don’t forget the strength training. Very important.”

“I got it,” she said, this time with a brighter smile. “Some old firefighter gave me some pointers.”

Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.

“Hey, don’t pin that old shit on me yet. Benny’s got more mileage than I do…”

He considered her then, after briefly looking down at the counter.

“What?” she said.

He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”

“No, Dean. What?” Jo pressed. “You want to say something. Say it.”

He blew out a breath and shook his head.  

“Ellen’s not the only one who’s gonna worry about you on the job, that’s all,” he said. Jo flickered at a rueful frown.

“That’s ironic,” she said. “I can handle myself, Dean. Something you so often seem to forget.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he shot back. His hand tightened around his beer.

Jo’s face fell into irritation, mostly to cover up the hurt he saw buried deep behind her eyes. She gave him some relief by glancing away from him.

“And this is why we didn’t work out,” she muttered. Sighing through her nose, her eyes met his again. “You know what I hate, more than anything? People worrying.”

Dean carded his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting together in aggravation.

“Yeah, well, maybe they have good reason to,” he said. He could’ve predicted the way she tightened up. “And if I remember right, you did your fair share of hand-wringing the next time I responded to a fire on the job.”

He knew it was a low blow. But his point was made, and he fully expected the anger in Jo’s tight frown. They’d dated for a few weeks, mostly in secret.

That had been enough for Ellen to blow her top. Not because she had anything against Dean…just his job: at the very same firehouse her late husband had once served.

So Dean had backed off. He’d ultimately felt he had to end it. And clearly, Jo still resented him for it.

Slowly, however, the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her finger tapped on her side of the bar counter.

“You think I don’t worry anymore just because we’re not together?” she asked him. 

Dean didn’t have a good answer for her. So his gaze fell to his nearly empty beer.

But he was even more relieved when Benny finally got back from the bathroom, or wherever he’d fucked off to for the past few minutes.

He did seem to know that he was interrupting a rather tense moment. Seeing as neither Dean nor Jo wanted to break the silence, Benny supposed it fell on him.

He reclaimed his seat and raised a smile up at Jo.

“I think I’m ready for the next round,” he said, glancing at Dean’s soured mood. “Two whiskeys, please, Joanna.”

Jo treated Benny with a half-smile. He was the only one besides her mother who called her Joanna (and got away with it). After one last look at Dean, she reached over for the Jim Beam.

You met Andréa at the bar in your own car, just in case you needed to dip out early to check on Grandpa George. He was happy to see you going out.

“You’re pretty as a doll, sweetheart,” he’d said, patting your cheek after you kissed his goodbye.

The thought made you smile, even though you thought you were dressed casually in your dark wash jeans and blouse. When Andréa met you outside the bar, she nodded in approval.

“Good. I like the hint of sexy,” she said, plucking at the sweetheart neckline of your top. You rolled your eyes and tried to cover up the cleavage a little, but she batted at your hand.

“No, no. Leave your professionalism at work,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to relax and have some fun.”

It was hard to think about loosening up when you were literally getting belittled and threatened at work…but you supposed she had a point. You always had to be put together. You had to be sharp, because this world wouldn’t hand you anything on a silver platter.

And not to mention, you couldn’t just think about yourself. You also had to provide and take care of your grandfather too. He was the only family you had left, and you were it for him too…

But you took in a slow, deep breath. Tonight, you could have a couple of drinks with your friend. You could just be yourself, with no responsibilities other than not getting too drunk to drive yourself home later.

So with a sigh, you smiled and linked your arm with Andréa as you headed inside the Roadhouse.

It looked kind of divey from the outside, a worn-looking brown building with a faded red sign. But inside it was all dark wood and leather barstools and rows of soft lighting overhead.

There were records displayed on the wall; Prince’s Purple Rain, the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, and David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, among others. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” played on the wall speakers.

There were several tables, both high top and regular four-seaters, as well as a long bar that spanned the far wall, where rows and rows of liquor were showcased. You followed Andréa’s lead to the bar, where you took a seat at the far end and tried to feel like you belonged here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to a place like this.

“This is nice,” she leaned over into your ear to say. “Next time my cousin should meet us here. She’s a handful, but I think you’d like her.”

You agreed with a smile. “If she’s anything like you, I think I’m well trained to handle your brand of insanity.”

Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.

“Ah, you’ve got jokes tonight. Okay.” She waved over the blonde bartender.

“Hi, ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Jo. What’re we starting off with tonight?”

Before you could order for yourself, Andréa grabbed your arm and spoke over you.

“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.

Your eyes widened. “What?! I’m not drinking that—”

“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.

“Great,” said Andréa. You didn’t like her sly grin. “She’ll have an Aunt Roberta. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

“What the hell is an Aunt Roberta?” you asked.

Jo listed the ingredients on her fingers. “A nice molotov of brandy, vodka, gin, blackberry liqueur, and of course, absinthe.”

Jesus Christ. You shot Andréa a glare, even though you were trying to dim your smile.

“Are you trying to chill me out or fucking end me?” you asked.

Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded your agreement. Jo’s smile remained as she went to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, your eyes wandered as you once again took in your surroundings.

Really is a cool place, you thought. And it was busy without being overbearingly crowded. There were even a few seats between you and the rest of the patrons at the bar. Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏

Lol how'd you like Dean's little moment with the reader at the firehouse? Plus the introduction of the rest of our cast!

(And a possible serial killer on the loose?) Though sorry about Nick. He's a douchecanoe.

Next Time:

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.

Keep Reading: PART 3

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[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Part 3 to the fwb series.

You leave Eddie feeling a little blue after your last encounter... In more ways than one. Wayne visits and Eddie finds out distressing news...

18+ only. Minors shoo!

Angst ahead 🖤

Eddie had spent the weekend after your visit unbelievably cranky, horny and on edge. His argument with Chrissy had resulted in her storming out. "I'm not coming back this time Eddie, I mean it" she warned him.

Was it bad that he was really struggling to care? All Eddie could think of quite frankly, was you. After you left there was a sick feeling in his gut, some weird ache in his chest that he hadn't felt before.

Whatever it was he didn't like it. Not one fucking bit. Even strumming along on his guitar was no comfort and that always helped when he was feeling out of sorts.

He jolts out of his by a knock on the door, it'd probably Chrissy he sighs and signals for her to come in, dreading the argument that's sure to follow.

Turns out that it isn't Chrissy, it's his Uncle Wayne who's holding a casserole dish full of macaroni cheese and sets it on the table.

Eddie greets his uncle with a wave, his uncle merely nods then promptly cuffs him around the head, Eddie yelps and his eyes widen.

"What the fuck old man?" Wayne glares at him, he looks disappointed and Eddie hasn't seen that look in a long time. It makes him feel like he's a kid again, or an unruly teenager.

"Sorry boy, you know I love you but you deserved that. Had a long chat with that lovely girl who's dating Joanthan, Nancy Wheeler'' Wayne pauses to glance at Eddie and make sure he's listening.

'Now you wanna tell me why you're stringing along some poor girl, hurt her real bad Nancy said" Eddie grows flustered, runs his hands through his hair and wilts under Wayne's stern gaze.

"It was just a friends with benefits type thing, I made that clear Uncle Wayne" his uncle cocks an eyebrow and settles at the rickety old table, that Eddie has been meaning to fix for a while.

"Right, and you never gave her false hope I take it?" Eddie opens his mouth to say something, then closes it and shuts up. ''That's what I thought boy" his uncle shakes his head.

"She left. We aren't together anymore" he tries to explain, doesn't dare mention what happened a few days ago. Wayne begins to dish out the macaroni cheese and two beers, sets the meal and the drinks down on the table.

"That's not the point son, the point is I raised you better than to be such an asshole to a lady. Same goes for Chrissy, that shit ain't working Eddie so you need to do the right thing"

Eddie slumps down on the chair and nods feeling suitably chastised. Begins to shove forkfuls of his Uncle's delicious mac and cheese in his mouth but his Uncle's next words stop him in his tracks.

"Suppose you'll be happy to know that you won't be bothered by that ex anymore. Yn is it? Heard she's on a date with some hot shot tonight" Wayne shrugs and looks to Eddie, who's mouth has went suddenly dry.

"She's on a date?" he asks just to make sure he's heard right, Uncle Wayne nods and he suddenly doesn't feel hungry anymore.

"It's not to late to fix things son" Wayne claps him on the shoulder, gives his a sympathetic look. Suddenly, the knee jerk reaction to saying to himself that he doesn't care isn't working so much anymore.

...

He doesn't know why he drives to your house, he's sure he's just being a fucking martyr... Or an idiot.

Still it doesn't take long before he's knocking on your door, shielding himself from the wind and rain.

You answer and don't look happy to see him, his heart sinks and he's beginning to realise how badly he's fucked up.

"Wayne said you had a date" he says to you and you nod, don't give anything else away.

"Why are you here Munson?" Munson not Eddie, he doesn't know what to say, he's scrambling for something, anything to think of.

"I messed up, I'm sorry sweetheart" you pause, clearly you weren't expecting Eddie to outright apologise, show up at your door.

"Apology accepted, but it's too late Eddie. You hurt me so many times, dangled hope in front of me that we could be more, then you swept it away. You didn't care when I left so why should I care that you're here now"

He growls frustrated, wants you to so desperately understand that he's sorry, that he knows he fucked up.

"I'm sorry okay? I don't want to lose you alright. I admit that now" he watches as tears pool in your eyes, you immediately chase them away and steel yourself.

"You already have lost me Eddie" your voice shakes but it doesn't stop you from closing the door on Eddie's face.