#This is one thing that always piss me off...

[lcriedlastnight]

Hi can i pls request a lando x reader where he mentions in many interviews that he wants an army of kids and the camara always pans to other drivers teasing reader

ofc you can baby <33 thanks for helping me celebrate! here's that kiss i promised xoxo

requests are open!

852 words.

it wasn't unknown that lando wanted kids. it's not like he went out of his way to to talk about having children either, he just went on half an hour tangents anytime an interviewer brought up the topic is all. you didn't find out just how many until you decided to ask him about it one night, not long after lando had gotten slandered on twitter for being 'obsessed' with having a mini version of himself running around.

"so.. you know how you've said you want kids?" you start, voice a little hesitant knowing he was a bit peeved about the bullying he was getting online for that very thing. if looks could kill you swear you would be a dead girl.

"don't you start." he groans, eyes rolling so hard to the of his head you thought they may get stuck.

lando, who had just gotten ready for bed, slips in beside you and you immediately know he's not actually pissed off at you because he is pulling your arm to get you as close to him as he physically could.

"i don't mean it like that, i just wanted to ask you about it." lando watches as you strain your neck up to be able to see his reaction from your very comfortable position on his chest. it does bring the smallest of smiles to his lips.

with a joking sigh he asks "what do you want to know?".

"well, i guess the most important one is-"

"if i want them with you?" lando interrupts, sending your brows into your hairline. you smack him on the back of the head and he just laughs like it was actually funny. dickhead.

"no! how many you want. but now i don't want any with you if they're going to turn out like you." you cross your arms over your chest, trying to convince him you actually were in a huff. a strong hand running down your front seconds after ruins your plans for any further annoyance though.

lando hums in thought before he answers your question. his hand now drawing random shapes on your hip bone.

"you're going to hate me when i say this, but i only really wanted a few maybe two max? but being with you? i want minimum four."

your gasp makes him wince. you're shocked, there is no way he is actually being serious. you tell him as much but he shakes his head and assures you just how serious he is.

"honestly baby. i want a big family with you."

his words may or may not rile you and you guys maybe get started on that big family that night, but you don't kiss and tell..

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

lando wasn't to hold back on his thoughts or feelings and with his rants about wanting to start a family were proof of this, well you had thought so. the next time you're at the paddock is the next time he's asked about starting a family. you're watching from the side with max and oscar as he gets interviewed and you can see the say his whole face lights up at the question, as if racing was a chore he was getting forced to do every few weekends and not the second favourite part of his life.

lando takes a quick glance in your direction before he starts and it's like your conversation on the topic opened the floodgates in lando's mind as he reveals his every thought on having a baby or two or ten.

"me and my girlfriend were talking about this and it made me realise i want a full on norris army of children behind me. i want minimum four with my girl. ideally two of each but wouldn't even complain if all i had was girls because then that means that there would be so much more of my girl out there in the world, and little parts of me i guess too." lando's smile is splitting and the interviewer smiles back at him, loving seeing him being so open and honest about it.

"would you encourage your little ones to get involved in karting and racing?" she enquires. you can already picture taking your imaginary children along to watch lando in his races. it does make your heart skip a beat or two.

as the interview continues, unbeknown to you and the other two drivers who are making kissy faces at pretending to cradle a child in their arms just to tease you and how much lando was infatuated with the idea of kids with you, the camera pans in your direction to get a nice reaction shot to your boyfriend's words.

all they capture is your bright red face, from the teasing and lando blunt words, and the boys childish behaviour.

that night is then filled with lando teasing (and comforting) you as it was now your turn to get teased on twitter, millions of fans already making your reaction a meme. you knew you'd never live it down and a small part of you was excited to explain the video and reaction picture to those future kids.

[distantdarlings]

LET ME // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* Theodore Nott has been harassing you ever since he found out you had a crush on him. Now, you’ve been paired together for a project for McGonagall’s class and he has nothing good in mind.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in V), unprotected, sub!reader, Dom!Theo, slightly rough!dom!Theo, marking kink, slight size kink, bulge kink, brief dumbification, brief spit kink, reader wearing a skirt, light enemies to lovers, language, one (1) slap, name-calling, praise kink, slight degradation, public sex, fem!reader, oral (fem!receiving), Theo is persistent, not proof read (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Echo - XANU

- - -

Merlin, forgive whatever you had done to deserve the treatment you were currently receiving.

You thought back on every negative deed you’d done in the last year and still hadn’t found anything worthy of your horrendous luck.

The arrogant boy turned to stare you down, malicious intent etched into the unfortunately gorgeous features of his face.

You could feel your face contort into an expression of horror as you tore your eyes away from him and turned to Professor McGonagall.

“Professor, I— you started.”

“All partner decisions are final—no exceptions!” McGonagall finished, as if trying to answer the question you had before you could even voice.

You deflated into your seat, your mood dropping like a brick. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have guessed the entire class was staring at you. The entire student body of Hogwarts knew how you felt about your new Transfiguration project partner, Theodore Nott. The bastard…

You glanced back at up—arms crossed and lips poured—just to find the boy still staring you down, evil smirk painted on his lips. He gave you a sardonic wave, wiggling his fingers tauntingly.

“Fuck,” you sighed, pressed an exasperated fist to your forehead.

Your knee anxiously bobbed beneath the desk, the heel of your uniform shoe beating against the floor in a flurried rhythm.

Luna Lovegood, your best friend, was sitting directly next to you. Intuitive as she always was, you knew she could feel the pure panic radiating off of you. Her hand rested on your shoulder in a small motion of comfort, but nothing could calm you now. You were utterly screwed.

McGonagall finished off the rest of her speech on the instructions for her project, then dismissed the whole class. Luna helped you to gather your things together as you struggled to force yourself to move.

Maybe you’d pissed McGonagall off? Merlin, what had you done to deserve this? You asked yourself the same question over and over again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glimpsed Theodore flouncing over to you with an unnerving glint in your eyes.

“Well, aren’t I just the luckiest man on earth?” he said snidely.

“Fuck off, Theo,” you growled, intentionally not making eye contact with him.

You made to pick up your books and slide them into your bag, when he slammed his hand down on the cover of one of them, pressing them down against the desk. He pinned your fingers beneath them against the wood—just enough to keep them sturdy, but light enough so that it didn’t hurt you.

“Stop!” You yanked your fingers out from beneath the books, the heavy leather smacking against the table with a thud. Now, you made eye contact with him.

“What are we going to do our project on, baby?” he asked.

“Don’t call me that!” You yanked your books out from underneath his strong hold and shoved them quickly into your bag. “We can discuss it in the library after class.”

“I’m looking forward to it—I’ll be sure we get a quiet corner, you know…,” he stepped closer to you, “…so I can explore every inch of…the subject.”

You sneered in disgust and pulled away from him, his voice still rattling in your ears.

“You’re disgusting,” you scoffed. “I’ll see you later for nothing more than our assignment.”

“Looking forward to it…can’t wait to put those big brains to use. Lovegood.” He nodded politely to Luna before heading off.

You glanced at Luna and acknowledged her slight smile. Everything in you was telling you to snap at her and tell her not to encourage any of the delinquent boy’s behavior, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to ever be very mad at Luna Lovegood. At least, not for long.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and took off toward the door, bag swinging between your shoulder blades.

“Wait up, friend!” Luna shouted lightly, running to catch up with you. You snorted and laughed at her, letting her sunlight hair fall into step beside you.

- - -

By the time your class of the day dismissed and the sun had begun to sink beneath the Hogwarts skyline, you were soaked through with nerves. The saturation of your anxiety had managed to breach every protective barrier you held up, and fill your hands with shudders and your stomach with nausea.

The root of your nerves when it came to Theo came from the consistent comments he insisted on making toward you. It seemed that he loved nothing more than dropping sexual hints into your ear every few days just to watch you squirm. He’d only started this after he’d heard through the grapevine you had a bit of a thing for him.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive, and that his words had absolutely no effect on you, but you couldn’t deny that he was just as annoying as he was charming.

It had gotten to a point when he made these comments, that he loved to joke aloud about your reactions to him, effectively embarrassing you in front of all of your peers. That was your final straw. All resemblance of an attraction toward Theo had melted away and been replaced by hatred.

And yet, as your feet led you to the grand library, you couldn’t stop the rapid pattering of your heart beat. Something about the boy had always been so…irresistible to you. Whether it was the way he always knew where to place his hands when he “accidentally” brushed you, or how he knew exactly what to say when he pressed his lips against the shell of your ear. You figured you should be grossed out and tell him to get away from you, but, unfortunately, you kind of liked it when he did those things.

As you came up to one of the several library doors lining the wall before you, you decided to try and swallow your nerves and focus only on the project. That was what you were supposed to do anyway—this wasn’t a date.

You pulled one of the doors open and slipped into the warmly-lit room. It always seemed to be just a tad bit cozier here than anywhere else in the castle—whether that was from the multiple fireplaces or the sweet aroma that floated through the air. Either way, you loved it.

Your neck craned as you glanced about, trying to glimpse the cocky boy, but to no avail. Wherever he was, he surely wasn’t interested in making it easy on you to find him.

A sigh left you as you started toward the back of the library where a couple tables rested behind a few conveniently placed bookcases. Unfortunately, the feeling in your stomach told you that he surely would be sitting at one of those tables, simply because you knew how his dirty, little mind worked.

That corner of the library was…infamous for its concealed nature. Everyone in Hogwarts had heard the little rumors that fluttered about, of couples getting a bit too friendly with each other while the librarian was downstairs.

Because of those rumors, it had garnered a reputation. And if someone who had a penchant for gossip slipped past you and Theodore Nott studying back there, you’d be screwed.

Once you passed the last book case, zigzagging between the three that formed the perfect labyrinth, you came upon Theo comfortably waiting at the table in the middle. A groan of defeat left you and your head dipped back. You stared at the ceiling for a few moments while contemplating your options—you could still run away.

“Hello, beautiful,” Theo said, leaning his chin down on his propped up fists. “I’ve been waiting so impatiently for you.”

“Whatever,” you sighed. You crossed over to the table and sat across from him—the farthest away you could get. Your bag collapsed to the ground and unzipped itself on the way down. The things you needed for this assignment floated out and landed neatly on the table before you, including a few rolls of parchment, a quill and ink, and your books.

He marveled silently, seemingly trying to hide his fascination at your wandless magic. Perhaps if he studied as hard as you did, he would also be able to achieve it.

“Alright, shall we do this?” you asked, maintaining a bored expression.

“I’d love to,” he smirked. “But I’d love to showcase a bit of my magic as well, if that’s alright with you?”

“What—?” Your voice was cut off with a slight gasp as all four legs of your chair lifted off of the ground. Your fingers wrapped around the sides of your seat to keep you from slipping off.

Theo’s eyes followed your chair as it floated over the table and all the way beside him. Once your shoulders were inches from his, your chair dropped a few centimeters to the ground. A small yelp came from you as you regained your balance and glared at him. Perhaps he was a better wizard than you thought.

“What the hell, Theo?” you demanded, immediately scooting your chair away from him, putting a good few inches between you.

“I just thought we’d be able to work better closer together,” he purred, his arm dropping against the table to cage you against him and the bookshelf a bit to your left. You eased away from him so you were closer to the shelves than you were to him. His eyes never dropped from yours. “Merlin, what is that smell? You smell absolutely divine—”

“Okay, let’s just get this done,” you interrupted him, pushing his approaching body back away from you.

“Mm, alright,” he smiled. “Have you decided on a topic you’re interested in presenting on?”

“Actually, I have.” You pulled your books across the table over to where the two of you were sitting, flipping everything to the appropriate page. There were a couple pages in your notebook where you’d jotted some ideas down earlier today, and you’d figured he’d want to see the different ideas, as it was his grade, as well. “So, I threw a couple of ideas together in my fourth period. We can see what you think of them…”

As you explained the details of all of your ideas, it became increasingly obvious that Theo was not at all interested in what you had to say about the project. Though you refused to look directly at him, the corner of your eyes granted more than enough knowledge.

Theo’s eyes were ravenous as they drew down your body, curving across the most private areas of your body with no shame. You could feel your cheeks burning, but hoped the warm tones from the candles around you would conceal that.

When he scooted a bit closer to you, you kept talking. And when he laid his arm across the back of your chair, you kept talking. And when his fingers began to toy with the ends of your hair, you kept talking. But when he took your quill gently from your fingers and set it down on the table, you finally stopped. You barely made eye contact with him, constantly glancing away and down to the table. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears.

His fingers pulled away from your hair and dropped to your shoulder. They squeezed the hard muscles a few times.

“God, you seem tense,” he spoke lowly, his voice barely above a whisper. His other hand reached up and matched the opposite’s position on your other shoulder.

When he placed a gentle amount of pressure, it expressed a small sigh from your lips. He was right. You were very tense—in general, but especially around him.

“Here, let me…,” he stood and appeared behind you rather quickly.

“Theo, I don’t think this is appropriate. I’d really just—” Your voice cut off as soon as he began to roll your taut muscles beneath his nimble fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, pleasurable jolts of pain shocking across your neck and down your back.

“That’s okay, baby,” he whispered, dangerously close to your ear. “Finish telling me about your idea. I’ll just loosen some things up back here. Fuck, you’re so tight.”

He pressed an especially hard drive against your skin. You bit back a moan at the sensation. You don’t think you’d ever had a better massage in your life.

You wanted to tell him to stop, but it felt so fucking good. And you really were sore around your neck and shoulders.

“Theo?” you tried again.

“Read.” His voice had a commanding tone to it. One hand released your shoulder briefly to grab your books and slide them closer to you, before returning to its position against your skin.

His hands worked their way up around your jaw, cupping it gently, so he could press his thumbs against the back of your neck. You audibly sighed this time without intending to. Embarrassed, you attempted to cover it up with a clear of your throat.

You began to explain the rest of your project plan, small shudders rippling through your voice every time he’d hit an especially sore spot.

By the time he finished and pulled his hands away from you, your body was mourning the loss of him but relishing in the relief it felt. It honestly hadn’t felt far off from a professional massage.

“How’s that?” He walked around to your side, still not sitting back down.

“Er, good,” you chuckled nervously, rubbing your hand along the back of your neck, trying to spread the relief around.

“Perfect,” he smiled, gently swiping his index finger beneath your chin. He sat back down beside you.

“So, what do you think?” you asked.

“About what?”

“The project idea…”

“Oh, yeah, I think it’s wonderful,” he said, shrugging a bit. “I think we can work with it.”

“Theo, did you even listen?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

“Of course, I did,” he chuckled. “It’s just not easy to focus when you have such a gorgeous partner.”

There went your cheeks getting insanely hot again. He thought you were gorgeous? There was no way. Someone must have put him up to this, right? Or he was fucking with you because he knew you had had a bit of a crush on him.

“I—er…” you stuttered hopelessly, pulling your eyes away from his.

He placed a hand on your knee. You could feel the warmth of his skin through your tights. The heartbeat in your ears picked up wildly.

“Don’t be nervous around me.”

“What?” you laughed suddenly. “I’m not nervous, I’m just—you’re just really…friendly? I don’t know. Why are you pretending to be so interested in me? Did someone put you up to it?”

“Why would someone have put me up to flirting with you?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Because they know I had a thing for you,” you blurted before thinking. “I mean—”

“Nope! Can’t take it back now, my love.” Theo chuckled, an evil smirk printing across his lips. “And, for the record, no one put me up to flirting with you. I just want to.”

His hand slid up to the top of your knee as he leaned a bit forward.

“Theo!” you hissed. “We’re in the library—you can’t do that.” Though you verbally protested his actions, you couldn’t deny the heat building in your stomach at his touch.

Despite the conviction you had for needing to decline him and all of his advances, you couldn’t seem to suppress the need you felt for him right now—a different kind. His eyes remained on yours and refused to look away.

The two of you were in the library, and had seemed to despise each other’s company only minutes earlier, but for some reason, you couldn’t force yourself to stop his rising hand.

Soon, his fingers were toying with the edge of your skirt and his lips were millimeters from your own. You could feel his gentle breath against your cheeks.

“Theo…,” you shuddered at his proximity. His thumb slid slowly down the side of your thigh, the contact eliciting chills along your legs.

“You’ve wanted me for months,” he murmured, lips brushing against yours. “Are you finally going to let me fuck you?”

You gasped slightly as the tip of his thumb just barely brushed your core through your panties.

“Say yes, or I’m not going to touch you anymore.”

As if on cue, his hands pulled back from you and his mouth seemed to hover a few inches away. The cold air hit the spot his hand had been occupying on your thigh and sent a row of shivers up your spine.

“I don’t understand. Is this a joke?” you shuddered.

He shook his head slowly. “Not a joke, I just want you. Say yes, baby.”

“Y—” before you were even able to get the singular syllable out, his lips were pressing against yours and devouring them like a predator.

His hand found its place against your thigh again, the other hand following suit on the other thigh. He pushed them up the expanse of your skin, inching your skirts up in the process.

You moaned against his lips in embarrassment at the sudden loss of dignity.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he sighed against your mouth. “Let me taste you.” He pressed his lips roughly back to yours.

You gasped for air and pulled away, noses brushing against the other. “Say please,” you managed to choke out.”

“What?”

“Say please,” you repeated. “What, did you think I was going to come here and just give you whatever you wanted?”

“Oh, that’s how you’re going to be?” he smirked. You stared back astutely, not yielding to any teasing he tried to give.

“Alright, baby,” he conceded. He pulled himself closer to you and worked his way up your neck and to your ear, pressing chaste kisses against your flesh. “Please let me taste this sweet cunt. ‘ve been dreaming about it for months.”

You shivered at his words before nodding. You weren’t in your right mind—you couldn’t be.

He slid out of his chair and dropped to his knees. His hands wrapped around your hips and yanked you to the edge of the seat. His fingers pushed your skirt up around your hips and angled you up toward his face, pulling your legs over each of his shoulders.

The cool air flushed against the hot wetness slathered across your thighs. But the shock of wintry air was canceled out quickly by Theo’s hot mouth placing against your clothed core.

Your head fell back against the chair as your hands flew to his honeyed curls.

He swirled his lips across you, gathering your lust on his tongue. Each time you let a little moan slip, he’d echo you with his own louder one. It wasn’t loud enough to be heard anywhere else in the library, but it was enough to vibrate against you and send your head spinning.

The second your thighs began to shake on either side of his sharp jaw, he pulled away from you, leaving you bare and wanting.

“Turn around,” he panted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Obstinately, you held your chin up and refused to obey him. You wanted to appear strong and resistant as payment for how much of a dick he’d been to you, but with your quivering lips and legs still spread wide for him, you figured you didn’t quite get the point across.

He suddenly grabbed your jaw in one hand, while undoing his belt buckle with the other. Anticipation boiled in your belly.

“Turn around,” he said before suddenly and mockingly tilting his head to the side. “Or do you not understand what’s good for you?”

When you said nothing, he pulled you out of the chair and bent you over the library table. You yelped as your chest collided with the table.

Once on your stomach, he flipped your skirt over against your back and ripped your panties and stockings down your legs until the soaked things were stuck around your ankles.

Then, without another warning, he was sliding into you and stretching you wide. You gasped aloud and gripped at the smooth table, begging to find purchase on anything.

He moaned slightly at the way you clenched around him. He pushed himself into you a little more with each slow thrust, the movement splitting you down the middle. His hands held you tightly in place by your hips, pinning you down against the table.

“Shit, you feel fucking perfect,” he moaned, fingers gripping into your flesh.

Every alarm bell was ringing in your head, telling you to separate and cover yourselves, because you were in public. But, for some reason, you found yourself loving the thrill of possibly being walked in on; of possibly being found with Theodore Nott buried deep inside of you, taking his pleasure from your body.

By the time he’d finally bottomed out inside of you, he was panting and willing himself not to come prematurely.

“I’ve never felt anything this tight,” he groaned.

You hadn’t been able to see the size of him before he started pushing into you, but you had to guess he was the biggest you’d ever felt. Just having his hips pressed to your ass felt like the tip of him was brushing your cervix.

“Ah, fuck, wait,” he said, panting heavily. He rubbed your back as he slowly pulled all the way out of you and stood you up. He turned you around to face him and laid your back against the table.

He brought your legs around him and you hooked them together behind his back. You watched him with deep admiration as his fingers stroked up and down your legs, preparing to explain what he wanted.

“I want to watch me fill you up,” he whispered, leaning down to press a slow kiss to your lips. It was sweet and thick with saliva but, despite everything else he’d so far, this set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

His hands came away from your legs and wrapped around your waist. He watched addictively as his fingers wrapped entirely around your body, his large hands positively dwarfing your small frame. And you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes fill with an inky, black glint as he brought his hips to the underside of your thighs.

He placed his dick on your stomach, reveling in how far up your stomach it went. He moaned at the sight and pulled your right leg up and over his shoulder. He pressed a small kiss to the side of your calf.

“Theo,” you whined, still reeling from the loss of him inside of you. “Please, no more teasing.”

“Be patient, baby,” he whispered against your leg. “I want to remember this moment.”

“Theo,” you urged once more. But his hand came down hard against the outer side of your thigh. You yelped at the pain that radiated down the side of your leg.

“I said to be patient.” He soothed the pain gently with his fingers, still looking down at how big he looked compared to you.

One of the things he’d always had on you was height. No matter if the things he said were stupid and undermining, you couldn’t deny that his size was enough to have the high ground.

“Look, we don’t have all the time in the world,” you sighed, leaning up on your elbows to speak with him. “The librarian could walk in here at any—”

He pushed back into you, choking any other words in your throat. You gasped and fell back against the wooden table, the cold lacquer biting into your flesh.

“Fuck,” Theo all but whined. He pressed his fingers against your lower abdomen where his dick had created a perfect impression. Every time he pulled out then pushed back in, his sheer size forced the body wall up and simultaneously probed a spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling backward.

Without wasting another second, he picked up his pace while dropping his hands down to your still-tucked in uniform shirt. He ripped the material out from beneath the waistband of your skirt, and ripped the buttons apart.

The candles floating overhead illuminated the curves and dips of your stomach, highlighting The valley of your breasts.

Hips still pistoning into you, and left hand holding your waist still, his right hand reached forward again and ripped the clip of your bra apart. Luckily, you’d worn the front access one today.

At the force of the destruction, your breasts fell apart from one another, bouncing against your dampened chest.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Gonna mark this beautiful body. Gonna let everyone know you’re mine. My girl.”

His words sent shockwaves through your system. You tried to reach for him but you couldn’t reach. Your arms fell back down against the table, your lack of anything to hold on to leaving you completely at the mercy of the pace he decided to set.

“T-Theo,” you stuttered, your voice breaking beneath the weight of his abuse.

He leaned down, pushing himself all the way into you for a moment, and latched his lips around a mouthful of your left breast. He sucked roughly on the flesh, pulling the blood to the surface. You whined through the pain that mingled with the pleasure from him below.

Once he was satisfied with the bruise painted on you, he moved toward your neck, sucking and biting just as rough, hips never halting.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Tell me how it feels.” He nibbled on your earlobe.

You said nothing, your lips unable to form enough to make any words come out. Your fingers still gripped uselessly at the sides of the table. One leg was held uselessly over Theo’s shoulder while the other dangled limply over the edge of the table.

He leaned up. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

Still, you made no sound.

“Oh, you pathetic thing,” he whispered, lips pressing to your elevated leg once again. “Am I fucking you stupid? Is that what it is? Yeah, baby? Next time, I’ll shove this dick down your throat and see how quiet you are then, you dumb slut.”

Now, within the final moments before your finish, his thumb dropped to your clit and began to rub small circles into the nerves. Your mouth fell open and your back arched to the ceiling as his hips intensified. They forced your finish closer and closer until you were spilling all over him, coating your legs and his stomach.

At the clenching of your core, his release was barreling forward, as well. He came with a long groan and a slow walk down of the brutal pace he’d set with his hips. His spend mixed with yours dripped down your legs.

Finally, with him still inside of you, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours. He eyed you sweetly, caressing soothing lines across your temple with his thumb.

“My sweet girl, you did so well,” he whispered against your lips. “Has anyone else ever fucked you so well?” There was that cocky Theo again.

“Maybe like one other person,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath.

“Oh, yeah? Who?” he asked, suddenly grabbing your jaw again and forcing you to look directly at him.

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” you said. “I think I forgot his name. I’ll probably just forget yours tomorrow, too.” You teased him meanly, smirk building on your lips. This was further payback for all the months of harassment you’d dealt with from him.

He pinched your cheeks together until your lips were pushed open.

“You can forget my name, sweetheart,” he whispered roughly, “but you’ll never forget what I just did to this body.”

His eyes watched yours with an intensity like no other. Then his lips pursed, and you watched as a line of spit dropped into your waiting mouth. It was the ultimate display of humiliation, but also ownership. You belonged to Theo, now.

And even if you forced yourself to forget his name or this day in the library, you’d never wipe the taste of his claim out of your mouth.

“Now, let’s get to work on that attitude, shall we?” Theo asked, voice suddenly chipper again.

He pulled out of you and zipped his pants back up, before selecting his bag off of the chair—which you’d now noticed he hadn’t even unpacked.

“Tomorrow at 6?” he asked.

Then he Disapparated, leaving you entirely exposed and alone.

That son of a bitch.

- - -

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @angelfrombeneth , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil , @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn , @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch , @ilovehotmenandwoman , @smutnyrobocikwrakiecie , @synicaljah , @abaker74

[itneverendshere]

the first relapse being the most scariest thing you’ve seen. sarah’s even calling you about him like “dads trying to get his doctor on the line just in case he od’s”

added this to what i'd already summarized in this ask!! hope everyone enjoys the angst 😔🫂 it’s a little long (around 7.1k)

death by a thousand cuts - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: substance abuse.

Ward’s sitting at the dining table, barely glancing up from his phone when Rafe walks in. His jaw clenches. That look—so cold, so dismissive—always sets something off in him.

“What’s wrong?” Rafe asks, already knowing this isn’t just a normal night.

Ward doesn’t answer right away, just sighs like Rafe being here is another weight on his shoulders. “Your mother called today.”

Rafe freezes.

He doesn’t have to ask which mother. Ward’s new wife has nothing to do with this. His real mom. The one who left.

He tries to stay calm, but he can feel his blood pumping, “What’d she want?”

“She says she wants to see you. You and your sisters.”

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his heart pounding harder now. The audacity of it. She always did this—popped back in when it was convenient for her, like they were just part of her life she could pick up and drop whenever she felt like it.

When was the last time? A couple of years? Before that? It doesn’t matter.

“No. I’m not doing this again.” 

“Rafe—”

“No, I said no.” The anger wells up fast, a familiar burn in his chest. He stands there, fists clenched. “She’s full of shit, dad. She doesn't give a fuck about us. So, no. I’m not seeing her.”

Ward looks up, calm as ever, but there's that edge in his eyes—the one that always makes Rafe feel like a little kid who’s stepped out of line. “You’re overreacting. She’s still your mother.”

“My mother?” He lets out a bitter laugh, but there’s no humor in it. His fists tighten at his sides. “She left. She fucking left us. She’s not my mother. She’s just some lady who couldn’t handle shit.”

Ward stands up now. “Watch your mouth.”

“Watch my mouth?” Rafe barks back, stepping forward, his anger boiling over. “I watched her leave me every time she got bored or freaked out. And you—you didn’t do shit!.You just let it happen. Let her walk out over and over.”

“That’s enough, Rafe.”

But he's not done.

He’s too pissed to think straight. “What? You gonna defend her? You’re the one who let her fuck me up like this! You—”

“Stop blaming everyone else for your problems,” Ward snaps, his voice rising. "Grow up. She left.  And you’re still standing here acting like a child over it.”

Something inside Rafe cracks. His chest tightens like someone’s squeezing the air out of him. "A child? You don't get it. You never got it. She fucked me up. She fucked all of us up, and you're still acting like it's nothing." His mind is spinning, flashing back to all those nights he was too high to breathe, too strung out to care if he woke up the next day. He feels like he’s suffocating, the anger burning too fast. “I’m not doing this again, dad. I’m not.”

Ward’s gaze turns cold. “She’s trying now. That has to count for something.”

“Trying? Trying?!” Rafe grits out, stepping forward. All those years, all those broken promises, all the times he was left wondering what the hell he did wrong to make her leave—and now Ward wants him to sit down like it’s a fucking family reunion. 

“I don’t care what you think about it, Rafe. This isn’t up for discussion. You will see her, and that’s final.”

“No. No fucking way!” He shouts, his voice shaking as he steps closer to Ward, fists clenched. “You can’t make me do this. I’m not going to sit there and pretend like everything’s okay when she’s the reason I turned into the mess I was. And you—” His chest heaves as he fights to find the words, his throat tight. “You’re just as bad as she is.”

Ward’s eyes narrow dangerously, but he continues, “Every time she left, you didn’t do a goddamn thing. You let her walk all over us. You let her leave me, leave us, and you never said a word. You’re a shitty father, just as bad as her."

Ward’s face darkens, a storm brewing behind his eyes. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”

“I’ll talk to you however the hell I want,” Rafe fires back, stepping even closer, eyes blazing. “You didn’t stop her. You never protected me. You sat there and watched her fuck me up and then turned around and blamed me for it. Like I was the problem.”

“You were the problem,” Ward snaps, “She didn’t know how to handle you, and neither did I. You were a fucking disaster, Rafe. And that’s on you.”

“No. You two were and are the fucking problem because you can’t let go of her.”

Ward takes a step forward, “This isn’t about you. It’s about your sisters. Sarah wants this. Weezie deserves a chance to know her mother. It’s not all about your issues, Rafe. Grow up.”

“Grow up?” He feels like he’s suffocating, “You think I’m the one who needs to grow up? 

“Enough. You will meet her, or you can leave this house right now.”

All the work he's put in, all the shit he's tried to fix, feels like it’s slipping right through his fingers. He can’t be here. Not like this. He’s out the door before he even knows what he’s doing. That itch beneath his skin is back after years, that’s how much control his parents have over him.

Rafe’s hands are still shaking as he gets into his truck, slamming the door harder than he means to. It feels like he can’t get enough air in his lungs, and his thoughts are spinning, they’re all crashing into each other at once. The fight with his father keeps replaying in his head, louder and louder, until he can’t hear anything else.

He’s gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. His dad’s voice, cold and cutting, telling him he’s the problem. That he’s always been the problem. His hands are shaking worse now, trembling like he’s about to snap, and there’s only one thought pounding through his mind: He can’t go to you like this.

The thought of walking through your door, this messed up, makes him feel sick. You’ve seen him at his worst before, but this… this feels different. He can’t let you see him like this—not the old Rafe. Not the one who almost lost everything.

You don’t need to see that. You don’t deserve it.

He knows where he can go instead. Somewhere he shouldn’t, somewhere he swore he’d never go again. But right now, it feels like the only place that makes sense. His head’s spinning, his body buzzing with leftover adrenaline and anger, and he just needs it to stop.

So, he turns the key in the ignition and drives. It doesn’t take long to get to Barry’s. He knows the back roads by heart, even though it’s been years. He pulls up to the small shack Barry calls home, the lights still on, music thumping faintly from inside. It’s like nothing’s changed. The same rundown place, the same shitty cars parked out front, the same smell of smoke and spilled liquor lingering in the air.

Rafe sits there for a minute, gripping the steering wheel, breathing heavy. He shouldn’t be here. He knows that. 

He climbs out of the truck, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking, and heads toward the door. The second he steps inside, the familiar smell of stale beer and weed hits him like a wave, bringing back memories he thought he’d buried.

Barry’s lounging on the couch, a joint hanging from his mouth, lazily flipping through channels on the TV.

“Country Club!”, Barry drawls when he notices him, smirking around the joint. “Now this is a surprise. Didn’t think I’d ever see you walk through that door again. Thought you were all clean now, with your pretty little girlfriend.”

He tenses at the mention of you. But he can’t walk out now. Not after what just happened with Ward. Not when everything inside him feels like it’s about to blow.

“I just need something,” Rafe mutters, avoiding Barry’s eyes, already regretting this but not enough to stop.

Barry raises an eyebrow, amused. “Something, huh? You know, you’ve got a real habit of showing up here when you’re all fucked up.” He laughs, low and mocking. “What’s the matter this time? Daddy issues again?”

His jaw tightens. “Just give me what I want.”

Barry leans back, flicking ash onto the floor. “You sure you wanna go down that road again, man? Thought you were past this shit.”

“I don’t care,” Rafe snaps, his voice low, shaking with frustration and something darker. “You know what I want. Go get it.”

There’s a pause, and for a second, Barry just looks at him, sizing him up. Then, with a shrug, he gets up, disappearing into the back room. Rafe waits, heart pounding in his ears, staring at the floor, trying not to think about what he’s doing. About what this means.

Barry comes back a minute later, a small bag of coke in his hand. He tosses it onto the table in front of Rafe, “Knock yourself out.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the bag, his fingers already moving on autopilot as he pulls out his wallet and shoves a roll of cash toward Barry. He knows this is stupid, reckless. He knows this is going to hurt you, more than anything else. But ll he wants is to forget. Just for a little while.

His hands stop shaking the second he takes that first line.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀

You’re already drained when you step through the front door of the house, kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag onto the couch. The sticky summer air is clinging to your skin, and all you want is a cold shower and to crash in bed. 

The day’s been dragging—work was a shitshow, and all you’ve been thinking about is Rafe. You haven’t heard from him since this morning, which isn’t weird, but there’s been this nagging feeling in your chest, like something’s off.

“Hey,” Monica calls from the kitchen as you grab a glass of water and lean against the counter. She’s scrolling through her phone, half-distracted. Milo’s at kindergarten.

“Hey,” you mumble back. “Everything alright?”

She shrugs, not looking up. “Yeah, mostly.” She pauses, frowning slightly, like she’s trying to piece something together. “I think I saw Rafe’s truck earlier. Over by Barry’s place.”

You blink, trying to process what she just said. “Barry’s?”

“Yeah, you know. The guy who used to sell—Whatever.” Monica shrugs again, more casual than you feel. “I was driving back from work, and I swear it was Rafe’s truck parked outside Barry’s house.”

Your stomach drops. Instantly.

“You’re sure?”

“Looked like his truck,” your sister says, “Thought it was weird. Figured maybe he was helping someone out or something.”

But you know better.

A cold sweat breaks out over your skin. You’ve heard Rafe talk about Barry. Back when things were bad—really bad—he was the one who kept him hooked, who kept pulling him deeper. He told you everything about those years when he was drowning in addication and Barry’s name came up more than once.

And if his truck’s outside Barry’s, you know something’s wrong.

It’s like a pit in your stomach, this gnawing feeling that’s been sitting with you all day. 

“What? Why’s that such a big deal?”

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s impossible. “Rafe doesn’t… he doesn’t go there anymore. He hasn’t in years.”

Monica frowns, finally understanding. “Oh. Shit. You think something’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, already pulling out your phone, fingers wobbly as you open your messages. You scroll through the last few texts from Rafe, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Except the silence. He’s usually better at checking in, especially when he knows you’ve had a long day. But today? Nothing.

You stare at your screen, debating if you should call him. But deep down, you already know something’s happened. He wouldn’t go to Barry’s unless things were really bad.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” your sister offers, but her voice is hesitant, like she’s not sure. “Maybe he was just stopping by. It doesn’t mean—”

But she doesn’t finish, and you don’t need her to. You know what it means. You feel it in your bones. He’s back in that dark place—And he didn’t come to you. He went to Barry instead.

Why didn’t he come to you?

“I need to go,” you say, your voice coming out more panicked than you’d like, but you can’t help it. Your heart’s racing, your mind is spinning, and the only thing you can focus on is Rafe. You’re grabbing your keys off the counter before your sister can even answer.

“Wait, what? Where are you going?” Monica asks, a bit alarmed now, but you don’t have time to explain.

“I need to find Rafe.”

Your sister steps forward, “Is it really that serious? I mean, maybe he’s just—”

“He’s not just anything,” you cut her off, shaking your head. “If he’s at Barry’s, it’s bad.”

Rafe had told you everything about his past—every ugly detail about the years he spent losing himself, the drugs, the fights, the constant mess of it all. He had opened up to you after your first time together. And for the past two years you’d seen him, the real Rafe, the one who tried so damn hard to be better.

And now? He’s slipping. And you weren’t there.

Your mind is racing as you drive. You think about how good things have been with him—how far he’s come. He’s not the guy he used to be. He doesn’t party like he used to, doesn’t need to numb everything with lines of coke or bottles of whiskey.

He told you about his time in rehab, how scared he was of becoming that version of himself again. But something must’ve happened.

Something big. 

Why didn’t he tell you?

The thought is suffocating. You know him—he’s reckless and impulsive sometimes, but he’s been so careful with you, always making sure you never had to see the side of him that scared him the most. He’s opened up about his struggles with anxiety, about how he sometimes still smokes weed to take the edge off, but this… this is different. 

This is worse.

It had to be Ward. He’s has always had this chokehold on him, making him feel like he’s never good enough. And whenever his mom gets brought up—whenever she’s even mentioned—it messes with him in ways you can barely understand. She’s the one person who could make him spiral, and Ward is the one person who could push him over that edge.

You slam your fist against the steering wheel, frustrated.

He’s dealing with this alone, and now he’s gone back to Barry. To coke. To everything that almost killed him before. You pull up to his place, your stomach churning. You can see Rafe’s truck parked haphazardly outside, and your heart skips a beat. He’s here.

He’s here, and he didn’t come to you.

You sit there for a moment, gripping the wheel, trying to calm yourself down, trying to figure out what the hell you’re even going to say when you see him.

You get out of the car and practically run toward Barry’s door. You know this place, know the people who come here and what they’re looking for. You’re pretty sure your dad spent half his life here, when Barry’s dad still ran the business. 

You don’t even knock. You push the door open. Barry’s on the couch, looking up lazily when you walk in, and you see Rafe—sitting in the corner, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched.

He looks like a ghost.

Barry snickers from the couch, taking a drag from his joint. “Well, well, look who it is. Didn’t think I’d see the two of you here together.”

“Shut the fuck up, Barry,” you snap, glaring at him before turning your full attention to Rafe. “What are you doing here?”

“W-What?”

“Baby, look at you.”

He tries to stand, his movements slow, like his body isn’t responding the way he wants it to. His eyes are bloodshot, unfocused, his pupils blown wide, and he’s swaying slightly, barely able to keep his balance.

“I just... I needed to clear my head,” he mumbles, the words slurring together. His hand goes to his hair, but it’s shaking, and he can’t even look at you. “It’s not—”

“It’s not what?” You feel your heart breaking with every word, the cracks widening as you take in the mess of him, his clothes disheveled, his face pale, his hands twitching.

He stumbles again, trying to step toward you, but he’s so high he can barely stand. “I didn’t want... I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he rasps out, finally meeting your eyes for just a second before looking away. “Didn’t want you to... think I was still... still that guy.”

“You’re not that guy anymore,” you say softly, even though right now, he looks too much like that guy. “But you’re acting like him.”

His head drops, and he looks down at the floor, his shoulders sagging, defeated. “Didn’t know...what else to do.”

“And you didn’t think to come to me?” Your voice breaks on the last word, “You went to Barry instead of me?”

“Hey now—"

“I told you to shut the fuck up,” You almost scream in Barry's face, your chest rising with each breath you take. Rafe can't stand to look you in the eyes right now. He can't see the disappointment.

“You always know what to do. You call me. You come to me. Why would you run here? Why would you go back to this?” You glance at Barry, who’s watching the whole scene with a smirk on his face like he’s enjoying every second of your heartbreak. “You’re better than this. Get in the car. We can talk about this.”

But he shakes his head, his breath shaky. “Can’t… can’t be with you right now.”

“Why?” 

 “Just… too much. Hurts too much.” He looks down, guilt washing over him. “Didn’t want you to see... this.”

“Then get in the car. We can figure this out together.” Your voice cracks, the hurt pouring out.

He hesitates, shaking his head again. “I… can’t.”

It pushes something inside you.

Maybe you’ll regret it later but now it’s all you can think about. If he doesn’t want your help, he doesn’t want you. And if he doesn’t want you right now he doesn’t deserve to want you when he’s better. 

“You can either get in this car and fight with me, or you can stay here. But if you stay—”

“Y-You’ll leave?” He’s looking at you despite the fog in his brain, not sure if he’s hearing you correctly, “Leave me?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“E-everyon leaves right?"

He’s never said anything like that to you before.

“I’m not leaving you, but if you stay here, with him,” you jerk your head in Barry’s direction, “I can’t help you. I can’t pull you out of this if you don’t want to get out.”

You know you can’t fix this for him. He has to make the choice. His eyes dart toward Barry for a second, and Barry just shrugs, clearly not giving a damn about anything but his next hit. 

“I love you, but I can’t watch you destroy yourself.”

For a second, you think maybe you’ve gotten through to him, because his eyes soften behind all that darkness. But then he shakes his head again, looking at the floor like he’s already made his decision.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he mutters, barely audible. “But I don’t know how to stop.”

Your heart breaks a little more at that. “Yes you do, baby. You do. You just need to believe it.”

If he doesn’t come with you, you’re not sure where this ends for him. He’s stuck, frozen in place, trapped by whatever’s going on in his head, and you realize that no matter how much you love him, no matter how much you want to save him, you can’t force him to choose you. You can’t make him get in the car.

“You have to decide,” you say quietly, voice breaking. “Me or this. You can’t have both.”

Rafe looks up at you, eyes glossy, and for a second, you think he might actually say something — something that will make this all okay, something that will bring him back to you. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, torn apart by his demons, his lips pressed into a line. You feel the pit in your stomach grow deeper.

“Okay,” you nod, barely holding back tears. “I guess that’s my answer.”

You turn and walk out the door, your heart shattering with every inch of distance you put between you and him. You don't look back, because if you do, you know you’ll drag him out yourself, and you can’t do that. Not now. But as you get into your car and grip the steering wheel with your entire strength, the sobs come anyway.

You don’t want to leave him. God, you don’t want to. But he didn’t choose you. Not this time.

Rafe doesn’t even register the sound of the door slamming behind you. It’s like he’s watching everything happen from somewhere far away, his body numb, his mind completely blank. You said something, you were upset—he knows that much—but the words never really hit him. They just floated around. He sinks back down into the chair, staring at the floor, heart racing but completely detached. The room is spinning a little, his chest tight, but he can’t feel anything. Can’t let himself feel anything. It’s better this way. Safer.

You left.

He knows that happened, but it doesn’t mean anything right now. He can’t process it. Not in this state. Not when the drugs are still in his system, making everything feel like it’s underwater. He blinks a few times, trying to get his brain to catch up, but it’s not working. It’s just static.

Barry’s voice is somewhere in the background, laughing about something, but he doesn’t hear him either. It’s like the world’s on mute. His body’s still buzzing from the high, fingers twitching, muscles tense, but inside? Inside he’s empty.

Hours pass, maybe. Time doesn’t exist here, not when he’s this far gone. The light changes through the window, but it could be minutes or days for all he knows. He drifts in and out, his head heavy, eyes closing, but sleep never comes. Just darkness. Maybe he did too many lines.

At some point, he wakes up—if you can call it that. His body feels like it weights two hundred pounds, his head is spinning, his mouth dry and sour. He blinks against the light, his vision blurry, trying to figure out where the hell he is. 

It takes a second for everything to catch up. To realize he’s at Barry’s.

And then, it hits him all at once. You.

You were here. You were mad. And then you were gone.

His chest tightens, a sick, sinking feeling crawling up his throat. He sits up too fast, his head swimming. Fuck.He rubs his hands over his face, trying to calm his breathing. His thoughts are still sluggish. You left. You walked out, and he… he didn’t stop you. Didn’t even try.

Why didn’t he stop you?

Before he can think too much about it, Barry saunters in, a smug grin on his face, holding a beer in one hand, a joint in the other. He takes one look at Rafe, slouched and disoriented, and lets out a low, mocking laugh.

“Well, well, well,” Barry drawls, leaning against the doorframe, clearly enjoying every second of this. “Look who’s finally awake. You done fucked it up, Country Club.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

Barry raises an eyebrow, taking a drag from the joint, shaking his head. “Damn, man. Thought you were smarter than that.”

Rafe just stares at the floor, his stomach twisting. He can’t remember exactly what he said to you. But the look on your face… he can’t forget that. The disappointment. The hurt.

Barry chuckles, settling down on the couch across from him. “What was it? You running your mouth again, or did she just get tired of you being a fuckup?”

The shame is settling in now, creeping up his spine. He doesn’t want to hear this. Doesn’t want to hear anything. But Barry just keeps going, like he’s enjoying watching him fall apart.

“Should’ve seen it coming, man,” Barry continues, “Girl like that? She was bound to leave eventually.”

If he felt strong enough he would’ve punched that joint out of his mouth, his teeth following next. Who the fuck did he think he was to talk about you like he knew you.

He knows Barry’s just trying to get under his skin, but it’s working. He feels sick. He presses his hands against his eyes, trying to push it all away, but it’s no use.

“You done fucked it up, Country Club,” Barry repeats, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “And now you’re right back here. Same old Rafe.”

Same old Rafe. He told himself he’d never end up here again. He swore he was done with this. Done with Barry, done with the drugs, done with the guy he used to be.

But now? Now he’s right back where he started. And the worst part? He let you see it. He doesn’t know how to fix this. Doesn’t know if he even can fix this. But the one thing he does know? He should’ve crawled after you.

Rafe doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t need to. His hands are already moving, reaching for the small bag of coke on the table. His fingers tremble as they close around it, the weight of the plastic barely registering in his hand. 

Barry watches him, that same smug grin never leaving his face, taking another drag of his joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke with a low chuckle. He’s not surprised. Not at all.

"Of course," Barry mutters, shaking his head in amusement. “Of course, you're takin’ that shit with you.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t fight him. He can feel Barry’s eyes on him, feel the judgment radiating off him, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not anymore. 

Not after everything he’s already fucked up. He stuffs the bag in his jacket pocket, standing up on shaky legs, the room still spinning a little as he stumbles toward the door. His mind is on autopilot, moving without him, as if the drugs are the only thing holding him together. 

"Attaboy, Country Club," Barry calls after him, voice dripping with condescension, laughter bubbling up from deep in his chest. “Just keep runnin’. That’s what you’re good at, right?”

Rafe’s hand tightens on the doorknob, his teeth grinding together, but he doesn’t turn back. He can’t look at Barry—he can’t look at any of this—so he does what he always does.

He walks away. He doesn’t think. He just keeps moving, out of the door, out into the night, the bag burning a hole in his pocket.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀

It’s been two weeks since you last saw him.

Two weeks of silence, of unanswered calls and texts that sit there on your screen and make you cry every time you look at them. You told him you’d leave, but you didn’t mean it. You never meant it.

You just needed him to fight. For himself. But he didn’t.

And now, you can’t stop thinking about him. It physically hurts.

Every morning you wake up with this heavy impossible ache in your chest, and it only gets worse as the day goes on. You keep wondering where he is, if he’s okay, if he’s even thinking about you or if he’s too far gone to care.

You miss him. God, you miss him.

Now you don’t even know where he is. If he’s still spiraling or if he’s hit rock bottom.

You’ve barely been able to keep it together at work. Every time you try to focus, that image of Rafe in his absolute worst slips in, and you never get anything done. You’ve called in sick twice, just to stay in bed and cry, because you can barely breathe.

You’ve reached out to Sarah a few times, trying to understand what’s going on, but she doesn’t know much either. "He’s off the grid," she’d told you last time, "Doesn’t want to talk to anyone."

That was a week ago.

And now you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone, debating if you should try one more time. One more call. One more text.

Because this can’t possibly end this way. 

He’s the love of your life. 

Sarah’s name flashes on the screen, and you nearly drop the damn thing. “Sarah?”

“Hey,” You can hear it immediately—something’s wrong. “Are you home right now?”

Your stomach drops, “Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

You can hear her take a shaky breath. “It’s Rafe. He’s, shit, it’s bad. Like, really bad.”

 “What do you mean, bad? Sarah, what happened?”

“Dad’s trying to get his doctor on the line,” she says, her voice cracking. “Just in case he ODs.”

Your blood turns ice cold.

“He’s not picking up,” she continues, her words spilling out in a rush, like she’s trying to keep herself from breaking down. “Dad’s freaking out, and Rafe—he’s not making sense. He’s been on a bender for days, and now he’s just... he’s not there. I don’t know what to do. I thought maybe you could—”

“I’m coming,” you say, cutting her off, already standing, your body moving on autopilot.

You hang up before she can say anything else, grabbing your keys and rushing out the door. The drive to Tannyhill  feels like it takes forever as your mind comes up with worst-case scenarios. You’ve seen Rafe struggle before—you’ve seen the dark places he’s been—but if Sarah’s calling you, if Ward’s getting a doctor involved….

You barely notice you’ve already parked the car, barely notice the front door swinging open as you run inside. The house is quiet, too quiet.

Sarah’s standing by the staircase, her eyes red and puffy. She doesn’t say anything, just nods toward the living room.

And that’s when you see him.

He’s slumped on the couch, his body limp, his eyes half-open but glazed over, like he’s not even seeing what’s in front of him. His skin is pale, clammy, his hands twitching every few seconds, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He looks like half a version of himself, his breathing shallow and uneven.

Ward’s pacing the room, his phone pressed to his ear. “I don’t care if he’s busy, get him here now. He’s going to fucking die.”

“Rafe?” you call, stepping toward him. But he doesn’t react. Doesn’t even flinch. He just stares ahead, eyes unfocused, like he’s not even aware you’re there.

Sarah’s standing behind you now, her voice low, “He won’t talk to us. He’s too far gone.”

You sink down beside him, your heart breaking at the sight of him like this. You reach out, hesitating for a second before gently placing your hand on his arm.

“Rafe,” your voice wavers. “Baby, it’s me. Please… please talk to me.”

But there’s nothing. Just silence.

His head lolls to the side, and his eyes meet yours—but it’s like looking at a ghost. The person you know, the person you love, isn’t there. Not right now. Not in this moment. And it kills you.

You keep whispering his name, pleading for him to wake up, to do something, but nothing works.

Ward's still on the phone, pacing like a caged animal, his voice a angry hum in the background. His eyes flick over to you every few minutes, but he doesn’t say anything. Sarah’s standing off to the side, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes red and puffy from crying. You can see how scared she is, and you’re glad they got Weezie out of the house before she could see this. 

After what feels like an eternity, the front door bursts open, and a doctor rushes in, followed by a paramedic with a bag of medical equipment. The doctor, some guy Ward must have on speed dial for situations like this, doesn’t waste any time. He kneels down beside Rafe, checking his pulse, his pupils, his breathing.

“This is bad,” the doctor mutters, shaking his head. “He’s lucky he’s still breathing.”

Lucky. 

The paramedic moves in, setting up an oxygen mask, checking Rafe’s vitals, and it feels like the room is spinning. You try to stay calm, try to keep your hand on Rafe.

Ward finally hangs up the phone and stands there, watching as the doctor works. “Is he gonna be okay?” he asks, his voice strained because god forbid he shows more emotion.

The doctor glances up, his expression grim. “We need to take him in. I’m stabilizing him, but if this had gone on any longer, we’d be having a different conversation right now.”

You feel like you're going to be sick.

The paramedic starts prepping him for transport, and you stand there, helpless, watching as they move him onto a stretcher. His body looks so limp, so fragile. They’re talking about taking him to the hospital for observation, but all you can hear is the blood pounding in your ears.

Ward steps forward, he watches his son being carried away. For the first time, you see it—real fear in his eyes. 

“I should’ve seen this coming,” Ward says, his voice shaking. “I should’ve stopped it. This is my fault.”

You feel something snap inside of you.  “I’m sure it fucking is.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there like a fucking idiot. Sarah is beside you now, her hand on your arm, gently pulling you back. “Let’s go,” she mutters,“We should go with him.”

You nod, swallowing as you follow her out of the house, leaving Ward standing there alone.

You climb into your car, Sarah beside you, and you both sit there for a moment in silence, watching as the ambulance pulls away, taking Rafe with it.

“I’m scared,” Sarah admits. 

You close your eyes, and nod. “So am I.”

You have to remind yourself to breathe. She sits beside you, staring straight ahead and neither of you says another word.

The hospital is quiet when you arrive, eerily so. You both rush in, Sarah at your side, searching for the emergency room and after a bunch of paperwork and hurried conversations, you’re finally led to the waiting room. The doctor said they’d keep you updated, and you sit down on those stiff, uncomfortable chairs, the waiting begins.

Minutes drag by like hours. You try to text or scroll through your phone, anything to distract yourself, but you can’t focus. Every time you close your eyes, all you can see is Rafe. It’s like your brain is stuck on replay, and you can’t shut it off. Sarah’s over there biting her lip until it’s bleeding. Every now and then, she looks at you, like she’s about to say something, but then she doesn’t. And you don’t either. You can’t. What the hell would you even say? It feels like you’re both waiting for the worst possible news and just pretending you’re not.

After what feels like forever, the doctor finally comes through the doors, and Sarah and you jump up at the same time. 

The doctor sighs, and he looks tired, like this isn’t the first time he’s delivered news like this today.

“We stabilized him,” he says, “He was really close to an overdose, but we got to him in time. He’s still unconscious, but his vitals are stable for now. We’ll keep him under observation for at least 24 hours.”

You finally take a deep breath, but it’s shaky, and it doesn’t feel real. 

Sarah doesn’t even hesitate. The second the doctor says Rafe’s stable, she’s heading towards his room, like she needs to see him, to make sure for herself that he’s really still here. You don’t follow her, though. Your legs feel like they’re made of concrete, if you move, you’ll just collapse right there in the hallway.

As much as you want to be with him, to hold his hand or just… see him breathing, you know you can’t handle it. Not right now. You’ve spent the last two weeks trying to hold it together, and this is the first time you feel like you can finally breathe. Like you’re not suffocating with worry.

What you need more than anything is to get out of here. To just breathe, to close your eyes for more than a minute without the image of him passed out, strung out, burned into your brain. You need sleep. You need to feel something other than panic. He’s gonna be okay. Maybe not perfect, maybe not healed, but for now, he’s alive. 

The next day, you finally gather the courage to see him. You feel like you might throw up at any second. You stop outside his room, staring at the door for what feels like forever, trying to convince yourself to go inside.

He’s lying in bed, looking like he barely walked out of this one alive, but he’s awake. His eyes meet yours the second you step inside, and you feel like you’re going to start crying at any given second. 

“Hey,” You manage to say, You don’t trust your voice to be strong enough to say something more.

Rafe blinks, like he’s surprised to see you. His voice is rough when he speaks, cracked from everything his body’s been through. “You came.”

“Of course I did,” He’s genuinely shocked. As if he thought you’d just walk away from all of this. From him. You swallow hard, taking a step closer to the bed. “Of course I came, Rafe.” Your voice is soft, barely holding together. “Where else would I be?”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes flicker away from yours, settling on the IV in his arm, like he can’t stand to look at you. 

“Sarah called me. She was scared. She didn’t know what to do.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he still won’t meet your eyes. “She shouldn’t have,” he mutters, his voice hoarse, barely there.

“She shouldn’t have had to, Rafe. You scared the shit out of her—out of everyone. And I’ve been sitting here for two weeks, waiting for you to say something, anything, and you just—” You stop yourself, your throat closing up, and you bite your lip to keep from crying. “You almost died.”

You can see his chest rising and falling slowly, and for a split second, you think he’s not going to answer at all. That he’s just going to keep shutting you out. 

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want you to see how fucked up I am.”

Your heart breaks all over again because you’ve already seen it. You’ve seen every part of him—the good, the bad, the absolute worst. And you’re still here. You’re still standing in this stupid hospital room because you love him. He shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the blanket like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“I don’t deserve you.”

You step closer to the bed, sitting down carefully on the edge, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you can breathe. Just a little bit.

“Don’t say that,” you reach for his hand. He flinches at first but doesn’t pull away when you lace your fingers with his. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. But you can’t keep pushing me away. I need you to let me help you.”

He closes his eyes, his face twisting in pain, “Ward wanted us to meet mom and I just—”

You’ve never fully understood what his mom meant to him, or maybe what losing her did to him, now you do. That deep-rooted pain that always seems to haunt him when he talks about her is stronger than you’ve ever seen before. 

“I didn’t want you to see this mess. I don’t want anyone to. I’m a fucking disaster. Every time I try to fix something, I just make it worse. I just—” He breaks off, his jaw clenching like he’s trying to swallow down the rest of his words, the ones he can’t say out loud.

“You spent years sober, that’s not easy,” You scoot closer, wrapping your arms around him carefully, not caring if he feels like a mess or if you’re being too much. You just want him to feel like he’s not alone. “Baby, I know you’re hurting,” you murmur into his shoulder, “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“You should,” He confesses, “I hurt you.”

“You have,” you admit, “But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving. I’m not gonna give up on you.”

He looks away, like he doesn’t believe you, like he’s waiting for you to just walk out of that hospital room and never look back. But you don’t.

You tighten your grip on his hand, "You don’t get to decide that for me.  I’m still here because I love you. Even when you push me away.”

“You shouldn’t love me,” he whispers, like it’s some kind of fact, like it’s already been decided.

You shake your head, leaning in closer, your hand resting on his cheek. “But I do, Rafe. I always will. Even when you don’t think you deserve it, we’ll figure it out, together, okay? One step at a time.”

He nods, barely, but it's something. It’s a start.

[darnell-la]

Request if you’re taking any!?

Enemies to smut. You finally cave in one night and you both settle things in bed but you’re like a massive brat not letting him dom but you give in everyone in the mansion hears then you have to deal with everyone’s comments the next day

note: young Logan Howlett can be a feral man when it comes to his women talking back. He secretly loves it, but everyone knows.

———

“Maybe if you took your claws out of your ass, you’d work better in the field!” Y/n yelled at Logan who had complained about her messing him up in recent missions they’ve had together.

“Oh, yeah? Well, maybe if didn’t worry about putting on makeup and dressing like some fuckin’ whore of the night, you could be more prepared before the mission! You barely know what we do on missions because you’re late!”

“Oh, fuck off,” y/n flipped the man off as she walked away, from the professor's room. “Fuck off? No, you fuck off! Always fuckin’ up but can’t take the consequences. I’m done working with you!” The man yelled as he followed behind her.

“Great! Maybe now I can breathe and have fun!” The young lady kept waking away from the man, having had enough of him already, and she had just woken up.

“You kill the fun! Always bitchin’ and talkin’ about me!” Logan said, making her laugh. “Ian a fan of old men, baby,” she said, now heading up the stairs. He followed.

“You sayin’ that like you’re not all over me when you’re drunk,” Logan was cocky, and she knew it. She liked it, but he pissed her off so much, she couldn’t stop arguing back.

“See how you gotta get me drunk to be on you?” Y/n said, making the man groan loudly in annoyance. She always had something to say back. He loved it but had to keep arguing.

“I could get you sober, Bub, and I know it. You fuckin’ know it,” he said, so close to her, but He had made it into her room and shut the door in his face, ignoring his true comment.

“Open the fuckin’ door,” Logan said low, still angry, but didn’t want to seem like he was begging. “Aww? Are you mad I don’t give a fuck about your scenarios with me?” Y/n fake pouted.

“They ain’t fake if you rub your ass on me anytime you get a pinch of liquor down that pretty throat of yours,” Logan was furious, yet she felt comfort from his wording. Pretty throat of yours…

“You wanna get me drunk, baby? So I can give you attention?” Y/n asked as she opened her door with a smirk to get him upset. Before the door was even fully open, he pushed through, grabbing her neck and slamming the door behind him.

“Like I said, Bub,” Logan slammed y/n against her room wall, causing a yelp to escape from her mouth. “Ion needa get you drunk to have that cunt leaking,”

Y/n would argue, but once she thought to herself and remembered he had enhanced smell, she almost wanted to shut down.

“Talkin’ all loud and big, makin’ me seem like I’m horny for you, yet, you’re soaked. Fuckin’ leaking your panties,” Logan said as his hands forced their way through her right jeans.

“So fuckin’ wet, I could end dehydration,” Logan teased her as he rubbed all over her pussy, fingers running through her slit as thumb swollen around her bud.

“Y-You can’t fuck me,” y/n was willing to bet. “At least not before I make you cum,” y/n used her strength to push Logan off. They grabbed his belt and dragged him towards the bed before pushing him down.

“No chance-“ Before he could finish, y/n gave him a well-deserved punch to his face. Logan was too surprised to realize she was pulling his jeans down. “Did you just punch me?” Logan asked, too shocked to think straight.

It was hot, yet he wanted to kill her, and by killing her, he meant her insides when he pounded into her squirming form.

“And what are you gonna do about it? Cum? Because that's what it looks like,” Y/n laughed at the man, having his cock in her hand, and the sight of him was unbelievable.

She hadn’t said one nice thing about him, yet he’s leaking am begging to release it all.

“That it-“ Before he could say anything, he stopped, freezing just as the words in his mouth. Y/n almost had all of him in her mouth. She tried to fit everything she could.

“F-F-F-“ Logan couldn’t get out as his eyes crossed and hands curled in his hair. “Mhm hmm?” She hummed in his cock, seeing how his eyes didn’t know what to do.

Y/n giggled at the man’s length as she bobbed her head, slurping him with slightly hard sucks. She couldn’t help but let out small moans and whines while she was at it.

“Fuck, pretty — Ain’t know you could get down like this — This fuckin’ good,” Logan’s breathed heavily as his hands placed in her hair. “Mhm hmm, right there, baby. Keep goin,” Logan gripped y/n’s hair to guide her.

The young lady began to slap at his arms, wanting him to later do what she wanted, but all he did was chuckle at her struggle.

“Thought you’d be gettin’ what you want?” Logan asked as he shifted on her bed and began thrusting his hips upward. “Think just because I’ll come before I stick it in that cunt, that I’ll just stop right then?”

“Oh, Bub, I can go forever. I’ll fill you up more than you could count,” the man told no lie. Y/n was angry, yet turned on that the man wanted to fill her multiple times.

“That’s it, keep gaggin’ — I’m so close,” the man growled as he looked directly into her eyes. She tried staying strong, but she ended up softening her eyes as they rolled back.

“Look so good, Bub — You always do,” he said, gaining a whine from her. “Mhm hmm, that’s it. That’s my girl,” the man chuckled, knowing she hated him, he loved him at the same time.

“Down, down,” Logan groaned, pushing y/n all the way down onto his cock, forcing his tip to graze the back of her throat as he spilled into her. Y/n cried, gagged, and scratched at the man, but took it all just how he wanted.

“C’mere, pain in my ass,” Logan pulled y/n off of him so rough, she almost slipped when he pulled her to her knees and pushed on her the bed. His cock still spilled out cum, as he wasn’t finished cumming, but he didn’t care. He needed to be in her officially.

“Stop! Let me at least-“ y/n tried pushing Logan to the side so she could get on him, but he wouldn’t allow it. “You don’t get what you want anymore. You’re gonna lay the fuck down and shut the fuck up,” Logan had gripped the girl's neck tightly to warn her to calm down.

“You’re an asshole — that cums fast,” y/n grinned, knowing he wouldn’t like her comment. “You're funny, you know?” Logan said with a soft voice but didn’t mean it in the slightest.

The strong man forced y/n on all fours before he ripped her jeans off. “Logan!” She yelled, instantly getting her face forced into the sheets. “Shut the fuck up, before I hurt you. And I know you’ll like it. You’ll like anything I give you,”

Logan slapped at the girl's ass before he ripped her panties off, taking a quick sniff with an eye roll before stuffing them in his jean's back pocket.

“Hey, those were my favorite pair!” Y/n yelled. “Thankfully, I don’t give a fuck,” the man cussed before he pushed into y/n with full force, trapping a loud scream she wanted to let out.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ slut,” Logan pulled y/n back by her hair with one hand as the other wrapped around her neck. “You fuckin’ like that, huh? Like me being an asshole? Like me using you like you mean nothing!?”

Logan snapped his hips hard, forcing her ass to clap right back into his pelvis. The noise made the situation better.

“Oh, but you are somehting, Bub. My girl. My pretty girls who’s gonna run her mouth, talk shit, and get tough a lesson,” y/n whined as her walls clenched around him.

He wanted her. She didn’t care how rude he was to her, at least she knew he wanted her.

“You know how many people are gonna laugh at you? Seeing how fucked up I have you when we leave rooms? So damn dumb, and fucked out,”

He was even willing to let people know he wanted her. She couldn’t stop pulsing around him.

“You’re gonna be my girl, and keep runnin’ that mouth. I like it. Like it so fuckin’ much, it just makes me wanna ruin this pussy even more,”

Y/n finally came with a loud cry as her body shook and gave out on her. “Thaaat’s it, baby,” Logan dragged as he kept y/n up, forcing her body to take more than she could.

“Maybe I should so then right now. Show them how fuckin’ limp you get on my dick,” Logan teased the girl as her hands scratched at her arms, needing some kind of slowed-down rhythm of his, but he wouldn’t give it.

“L-Lo,” y/n couldn’t stop her crying as another orgasm washed over her body. The man growled, feeling his cock twitch as he gave the young lady a few more slaps to her ass.

“Might wanna keep it down, baby. Don’t want them knowin’ you fuck with your enemy, eh? You should know I don’t care by now. I’ll fuck you at our meeting tomorrow,”

“T-Too much,” y/n cried all night, needing a break, but he didn’t care. She’s talked back to him too many times, started too many fights, and can’t keep her mouth closed. She’ll learn tonight.

[bcmbidani]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ BOYFRIEND HAMZAH HC’S

warnings: sfw and nsfw, sizekink

thoughts i’ve wrote whilst bored, i don’t usually post anything i write so if any of u guys like i appreciate it tehe.. maybe i’ll write more! i’ve been heavily inspired by blogs such as @cdbabymp3 @buuniebaby and @onlinesuzie , i love their works guys :( always feeding me with hamzah content. anyways this is just something small that i hope u like !!

sfw

boyfriend hamzah who never imagined he’d be clingy and touchy with his future partner, until you looked at him with big doe eyes and he knew, all he wanted was you.

boyfriend hamzah who messages you random updates of his day when your at work even though he knows you can’t respond. and when you remind him that you can barely check your phone at work he’ll tease you about being a smarty pants with your fancy job, smirk on his face and all.

boyfriend hamzah who isn’t much for pda but can’t help but keep a hand on you, whether it be your thigh or back or shoulder or hand, it just had to be you.

boyfriend hamzah who hates how much he loves your size difference, hates the way his masculinity skyrockets when you look so small.

boyfriend hamzah who sometimes let’s all those thoughts slip, making you compare hand sizes and pressing his hands against your waist to showcase the difference, doting you about how you’re so small.

boyfriend hamzah who brings you up any second he gets, to a point where there’s loads of compilations about him being obsessed with you.

boyfriend hamzah who was nervous about introducing you to the channel, partly because he didn’t want to hear a single bad word about you, but also because, no matter how dumb it sounds, he wanted to keep you all to himself :( (hamzah is y/n’s no1 gatekeeper) he eventually got over that, and introduces you as the channel began to really take off. now one of his favourite things is seeing how much love you get, enjoying the way he can watch people fall in love with you just like he did (he still jokes about how no one gets you like him and that the fans are newgens to y/n..)

boyfriend hamzah who loves seeing how camera shy you get, but also adores the way you become more and more comfortable on camera.

boyfriend hamzah who’s favourite thing is to take photos of you, any where, all the time, to where his camera roll is just filled with you.

boyfriend hamzah who forces you into all of his corny t-shirts, even though they’re huge on you, but he finds it adorable.

boyfriend hamzah who takes note of why your favourite things are your favourite things, whether you love that movie because of a memory or if that's your favourite song simply because you like the way it sounds. he takes the time to learn everything about you. to be loved is to be known, right?

boyfriend hamzah who brings you up whenever he can, bringing up a story involving you or just stating facts about you that slightly relate to the topic at hand.

boyfriend hamzah who tries to be quieter when filming if he knows your asleep or doing your own thing

boyfriend hamzah who views you like a breath of fresh air, aware that when everyone else is pissing him off, he can go home to you.

boyfriend hamzah who puts on your playlist whenever he misses you, each song connecting directly to you in his mind

boyfriend hamzah who also cries to you over the phone when he misses you..

boyfriend hamzah who holds you as you cry about your horrible day at work, listening to every word that pours out your mouth, and wishing he could hurt everyone who upset you.

nsfw

boyfriend hamzah who sometimes cries during sex.. but he can’t help it! you’re just so pretty and feel so nice around his cock and he’s missed you so much :(

boyfriend hamzah who loves to leave hickeys on your skin when he knows you’re filming a video or podcast with him the next day. it’s scandalous, he knows this, but it’s not like he’s trying to hide it.

boyfriend hamzah who acts all moody and protective when a guys been eye-fucking you all night, but when he gets back home you realise all he needs is some reassurance and release, letting him whine about how you’re his and he’s yours as he marks your skin and cradles you close, hips stuttering and desperate against yours.

boyfriend hamzah who notices whenever you’re needy (which, to his liking, is a lot), and lets you grind against his thigh or works his fingers in you until your satisfied, your pretty noises the best thing he’s ever heard.

boyfriend hamzah who gets turned on by your smile. don’t get him wrong, your body is so fucking hot, but that face? oh, he could admire you for days straight. it’s what he finds himself studying as he ruts into you, coaxing you to look at him like the good girl you are, and holding back a guttural moan at the face that meets him.

boyfriend hamzah who’s definitely a head pusher whilst receiving.. he can’t help it, you’re just too good and he can’t get enough! and if you’re looking up at him with those eyes then you can’t blame him! you’re gonna drive him crazy :(

boyfriend hamzah who drags you into the shower with him, and it’s usually innocent, he just loves this domestic shit, the way you insist on shampooing his hair and gently massaging his scalp, the way he does the same for you. but don’t blame him if he gets hard, how can he not when you look so pretty? and sweet, little you won’t leave him all worked up.. so okay, maybe he should stop dragging you into the shower if he wants to cut down on the water bill…

boyfriend hamzah always feels pathetic when you leave for a trip.. he misses you way too much. what’s he to do? he doesn’t want to bother his precious girlfriend too much. and he feels terrible when he calls you in the evenings and the mere sound of your voice gets him hard, he’s pathetic. pathetic as he asks you to tell him about your day in detail as he rubs a hand up and down his cock… but he won’t ask for anything, doesn’t wanna bother you!

boyfriend hamzah who keeps a pair of your panties in his bedside drawer for times like these.. he’s gross :( but he doesn’t know just how much you love it, even if he tries to keep it a secret (he can’t, you know your boy better than anyone..)

[writeriguess]

Hey hey! Love your works :) Can I get a Katsuki B x fem reader fic where they like each other but he is stubborn and refuses to admit it? Reader is like "We're more than friends and you know it".

Maybe something happens where Katsuki almost loses her and he finally confesses. First kiss included please! Thanks!

You’ve always been good at reading people, but Bakugou Katsuki? He’s a whole different challenge.

It’s been months now, this tension hanging between the two of you. Ever since you joined the agency, working alongside Katsuki, the air between you has been thick, almost unbearable at times. There’s an unspoken connection, like a live wire sparking between you, but he refuses to acknowledge it.

You try your best to be patient, to let him work through whatever stubbornness is holding him back, but lately, the friction has been building.

Another patrol together. Another day with him snapping at you over every little thing. You swear, if he blames you for one more trivial mistake, you’re going to lose it. And you do.

“Watch your damn back next time! You’re supposed to be a hero, not a liability!” Katsuki growls at you, his eyes narrowed into that familiar, fiery glare. The two of you just finished up a mission — a robbery gone south — and he’s pissed that things didn’t go smoothly. But of course, it’s your fault.

You whip around to face him, blood rushing in your ears. “Are you serious right now? You act like I wasn’t the one who saved your ass back there!” Your voice rises, and you feel your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

“I didn’t need your damn help,” he snaps back, stepping closer, towering over you with that broad, muscular frame of his. The air between you crackles, a dangerous charge that neither of you can ignore. “I had it under control.”

“Like hell you did!” You take a step forward, closing the gap between you, refusing to back down. You’re not afraid of him. “You were outnumbered, and you know it. I’m not your enemy, Katsuki. Stop treating me like one.”

His jaw tightens, the tendons in his neck flexing as he clenches his fists, palms sizzling faintly with restrained explosions. “I don’t need you to baby me. I’m not weak.”

“And I’m not a damn sidekick!” you shout, frustration boiling over. “I’m your partner. We’re supposed to be in this together, but you—” You stop yourself, realizing how close you are, chest heaving, eyes locked on his. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, his presence overwhelming.

Katsuki’s crimson eyes flicker for a moment, something unreadable passing through them, but then it’s gone, replaced with that stubborn scowl you know all too well. He grits his teeth, lips curling in a sneer. “We’re not partners.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a second, you feel the sting of hurt settle deep in your chest. But then anger flares hotter than ever.

“Bullshit,” you hiss, stepping even closer, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. “We’re more than friends and you know it. Don’t pretend like you don’t feel it, too.”

Katsuki freezes. His eyes widen, just a fraction, but you catch it. The way his breath hitches, the way his muscles tense, as if you just struck a nerve. He doesn’t say anything, but his silence speaks volumes.

You shake your head, feeling the frustration, the hurt, the longing all swirling together into a chaotic storm inside you. “You’re so damn stubborn,” you whisper, voice trembling. “You push me away like this, like you’re scared of what’s between us.”

His eyes narrow again, but this time, they’re not filled with anger. There’s something else there — something raw, something vulnerable, something you’ve never seen from him before.

“I don’t—” he starts, but his voice falters.

“You don’t what?” you challenge, heart pounding in your chest. “You don’t care? You don’t feel anything?”

He looks away, jaw clenched so tightly you can hear his teeth grinding together. His fists are still balled, knuckles white, but he doesn’t say anything.

The silence is deafening.

“Fine,” you mutter, turning on your heel. “If you won’t admit it, then I’m done. I can’t keep doing this.”

You walk away, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Your heart aches, your mind races, and all you want is to get as far away from him as possible. But before you can take more than a few steps, there’s a loud crash — an explosion.

It happens so fast.

Debris rains down from the building above, the one you’d just helped secure. One of the walls crumbles, massive chunks of concrete and steel plummeting toward you. You barely have time to react before the ground shakes beneath you, your body instinctively moving to shield yourself, but it’s too late.

A blinding pain shoots through your leg as you’re pinned under the rubble. The impact knocks the wind out of you, and your vision blurs. Dust fills the air, and the sounds of crumbling brick and twisted metal are deafening.

“Katsuki…” you breathe, your voice barely audible over the chaos.

And then he’s there.

Before you can even comprehend what’s happening, you feel a blast of heat, the sound of explosions ripping through the air as Bakugou demolishes the debris around you with precision. His hands grip the remains of the wall, shoving them aside with sheer force, his movements frantic and desperate.

“Don’t move,” he orders, his voice low and strained. There’s a wild look in his eyes, panic flashing through them as he kneels beside you, his hands trembling as he assesses the damage.

You wince, pain radiating through your body, but his presence is grounding. You’ve never seen him like this before — not Katsuki Bakugou, the unshakable, unstoppable hero. This is different. This is raw.

“I’m… I’m okay,” you manage to whisper, but even you don’t believe the words. You feel the blood seeping from your leg, the sharp pain making your vision swim.

“Shut up,” he snaps, but his voice cracks, betraying the fear he’s trying to hide. “Just— Just hold on. You’re not— I’m not gonna let you die.”

You can barely keep your eyes open, exhaustion and pain weighing you down. But you feel his hands on you, gentle in a way you didn’t think was possible. You hear the strain in his voice, the way his breath hitches as he fights to keep it together.

“Katsuki…” you murmur, your fingers weakly reaching for his hand. You’re scared. More scared than you’ve ever been. But he’s here. That’s all that matters.

“Damn it,” he curses under his breath, his hand gripping yours tightly, almost painfully. “You’re not leaving me. You hear me?”

You try to speak, to reassure him, but your voice falters. Darkness creeps in at the edges of your vision, and you feel your consciousness slipping.

And then, you hear it.

“I— I can’t lose you.” His voice is raw, broken, filled with a vulnerability you’ve never heard before. “I— Fuck, I’m such an idiot. I— I love you, okay? I love you, and I should’ve said it sooner, but I—”

His words blur in your fading mind, but you catch enough. Your heart clenches, and despite the pain, you feel a warmth bloom inside you.

“I love you, too…” you whisper, just before everything goes dark.

When you finally wake, the first thing you feel is warmth. Soft, comforting warmth, like sunlight after a storm. Your body is heavy, but the pain is dulled, replaced by a numbness that you recognize as medical treatment.

Slowly, you blink your eyes open, adjusting to the dim light of the hospital room. And then, you see him.

Katsuki is sitting beside you, slumped forward in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest, his head hanging low. He looks exhausted, his hair disheveled, dark circles under his eyes. But he’s here.

“Katsuki…” you whisper, your voice hoarse.

His head snaps up instantly, eyes wide as he looks at you. Relief floods his features, followed quickly by something else — something softer, more tender.

“Idiot,” he mutters, standing up and moving to your bedside. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You smile weakly, still groggy. “You were scared?”

“Tch.” He avoids your gaze, his face turning red. “Shut up.”

But then, before you can say anything else, his hand reaches for yours, and he leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that’s fierce and gentle all at once. It’s everything — all the tension, all the frustration, all the unspoken feelings between you finally breaking free.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs, his voice low, but there’s no hesitation now. No stubbornness. “I love you.”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “I know.”

And for the first time, there’s no more pretending, no more pushing each other away. Just you, and him, and the truth that’s been there all along.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like at once.

[wcnderlnds]

stupid for you | peter maximoff

SUMMARY: you and peter fall out and he makes it up to you in his own peter way WORD COUNT: 928 WARNINGS: some swearing. A/N: idk what this is but writing peter is my fave so he gets all my dumb ideas ❤️ p.s. if the format sucks it’s bc im mobile.

It wasn’t like Peter had meant to upset you. Sometimes his mouth didn’t have a filter and he said things before even thinking about it so when he called you ‘annoying and needy’, he really didn’t mean it. He wasn’t that guy. He wasn’t the type of person to ever want to upset you or anyone for that matter. So when he’d seen you walk away hurt and upset, that had sent him right into action. He just had to make it up to you — make you see how important you really were to him. It gnawed at him inside that he’d been the one to make you feel that way. Never before had he ever felt so bad. So guilty.

He’d spent the whole day trying to think of what he could do to apologise then suddenly the idea hit him. Maybe it was a little stupid, maybe you’d completely hate it but he thought it’d be cool. Different. It’d be something him.

Meanwhile, you’d spent the day moping around the X-Mansion. The training session you’d had earlier had helped distract your mind but as soon as it was over, your thoughts drifted back to Peter. The fight the two of you had had been so stupid. All you’d done is made some comment about Peter needing to slow down for a minute and listen to you and it had spiralled from there. It wasn’t often the two of you argued. In fact, you never really had. In the whole six months you’d been dating things had been going smoothly. Things had been so easy going, so fun — it wasn’t really a surprise that something was bound to happen to ruin that. When things were going good there was always something that had to come along and mess it all up.

With a sigh, you started to head upstairs to your room when suddenly a blur of silver and blue rushed past you. Before you could even blink Peter was stood right in front of you, his hands hidden behind his back. Your arms wrapped around yourself as you looked at him. “Hi.”

Your nerves were mirrored in his face as he spoke. “Hey. Uh…”

The silence fell between you. It was awkward — something that didnt happen often when it came to you and Peter. Just as you were about to open your mouth to say something he began talking.

“Okay, just let me talk for a minute before I chicken out. I’m not good at this shit. I’m not the best at filtering the stuff that comes out of my mouth. That’s why I’m always getting myself in trouble. You know that but the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you. You gotta believe me on that one. If I could, I’d punch myself in the face. I mean, I could but… I can’t break the goods, y’know?” He laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension.

“It’s my fau-“

“Gonna have to stop you there, babe,” he said as he pulled one of his hands from behind his back and held it up to signal you to stop. “Can’t have you taking the fall on this one. It’s all me. A Maximoff fuck up special. That little switch people have in their brain where they tell themselves to shut up before they say something dumb? Yeah, turns out mine is broken. Probably wasn’t born with one actually. I’m not letting you feel bad for this. It’s all on me, okay? I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “It’s okay. You really don’t have to apo-“

“I do, I really do, though. Felt bad the second I said what I said. You’re not annoying and I love when you’re clingy. I love you wanting to be around me as much as I want to be around you. You caught me on one of those rare days where I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe Scott even pissed in my cereal or something, who knows. Point is that I messed up.”

“Are you gonna stop cutting me off?” You asked, an amused look on your face as you listened to your boyfriends rambling.

“Oh shit, sorry. My bad. The floor is yours.”

“What I was trying to say was that you don’t need to apologise because I forgive you anyway. We’re gonna mess up sometimes and I know you didn’t mean it. It was just hearing it come from you that upset me, I guess. Anyone else I could take it but you? Your opinions and thoughts about me matter the most. Can we just forget about it and move on?”

“Sure, yeah… but first…” he finally pulled his hand from behind his back to produce a Lego bouquet of flowers. “These are for you and lemme tell you, it was hell trying to put this together.”

“…you got me Lego flowers?”

“Duh. This way they last forever and you won’t have to worry about watering them and you can always remember the time your boyfriend was a dumbass.”

You laughed, taking them from him. “How long did it take you to put it together?”

“Might have cheated and used the ol’ mutation but I kept messing up. Some of the pieces wouldn’t fit where I wanted them to and I almost got mad and thr-“

“There’s instructions, you know.”

“Are you gonna stop cutting me off?” He grinned, hands on his hips as he echoed your words from earlier.

”Smartass.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

[childrenofcain-if]

If I can't have a D and C love triangle, it relies upon me to instead romance C and start drama by trying to steal their best friend 😌

MC just knocks on their door, C answers and MC just ducks under their arm to throw themselves on D's bed and chatter at them 😂

Even funnier if you have an MC with the same major as D, MC just makes excuses that they have questions about assignments every time they barge in there, C you can't kick us out 🥺😈

(Also funnier bc I totally see D as an enabler, they'd let MC do it even though they know MC is trying to piss off C just bc it's hilarious. I'll do those dumb TikTok videos with u 😌)

the dorm door swung open with more force than necessary, revealing C’s sharp green gaze, narrowed in suspicion. you offered a dazzling grin, the one that always got you in trouble in the best ways.

“really?” C asked dryly, leaning against the doorframe. “it’s nine in the morning. what is it this time?”

without answering, you ducked under C’s arm in a smooth, practiced motion, like a snake slipping past a gate. your shoes squeaked on the polished floor as you caught sight of D lounging on their bed from the open door to their room, propped up against a pile of haphazardly arranged pillows, a lazy grin already stretching across their face.

“rook!” you called, all energy as you practically threw yourself onto their bed, landing with a soft thud against their pillows. “got questions about the music theory assignment. you know, the one about the baroque fugues? totally can’t get this one part, and C won’t know how to explain music-related stuff to me.”

D raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at their lips. “sure. because that’s definitely why you’re here.”

C exhaled sharply, the sound exasperated, and turned to glare at you. “you do this every time. you’ve got your own room, you know. you’re basically acting like a freeloader here.”

“you can’t kick me out,” you said lightly, not bothering to look at them as you snatched D’s phone off the nightstand and flipped through their tiktok feed like you owned the entire place. “this isn’t just your suite. and besides, this is academic, C. rook is a sophomore in the same major as me and is way better at explaining these things than you.”

“right,” C said, crossing their arms. “totally academic. like last week when you were ‘asking about the homework’ but spent two hours watching a true crime documentary with D on their bed.”

D snorted, glancing up from their macbook. “i mean, it’s hard to say no when they bring interesting documentaries to watch. and memes. and snacks.”

C looked between the two of you, incredulous. “oh, so that’s how it is? you’re just enabling this now?”

D shrugged, smirking. “what can i say? they’re entertaining. and they did help my band get some really good social media exposure. it’s only fair.”

“see?” you chimed in, wiggling D’s phone at C in triumph. “rook gets it.”

C’s jaw clenched, their eyes flicking from you to D, then back to you. “je jure devant dieu, you’re doing this on purpose.”

you put a hand to your chest in mock offense. “on purpose? who, me? why, i’d never! why would i ever want to bother you, dear C? i’m just here for the assignments.”

D laughed openly now, closing garageband and setting their macbook down. “yeah, C. maybe they really need help. you wouldn’t want them to fail, would you?”

“i think they’ll survive,” C snapped, though the edge in their voice faltered when their best friend winked at them. they could tell that D was enjoying this far too much, feeding off their frustration like it was the funniest thing in the world. and the worst part? they weren’t even trying to hide it.

C pinched the bridge of their nose, muttering something about how they didn’t sign up for this when they agreed to become suitemates with D. but beneath the frustration, there was something that flickered in their eyes—a faint shadow of jealousy that you weren’t supposed to notice.

you stretched your arms above your head, taking up more space on D’s bed, much to C’s obvious displeasure.

“so, rook,” you started, turning to them with a mischievous grin, “when are we filming some more tiktoks? i’ve got a few ideas, and you’ll have to be my partner. C’s welcome to join, of course.”

D grinned indulgently. “oh, i’m in. C, you gonna grace us with your oh-so-broody presence?”

“i’m not broody.” C said, rolling their eyes and finally stepping into the room, shutting the door with a soft click. the tension in their posture hadn’t eased though. “and pass. i’m not making a fool of myself online for either of you idiots.”

“yet,” you teased, leaning back on D’s bed and enjoying the way C’s irritation simmered, their jaw clenched tight as they stood there. “you’ll cave eventually. you haven’t seen how... persuasive i can be sometimes, lacroix.”

†††

later, when you had finally left, having thoroughly disrupted the peace, C cornered D in the kitchen as they were making coffee for both of them.

“you’ve got to knock it off with them,” C said, voice low but edged with exasperation. “they’re just doing this to piss me off.”

D raised an eyebrow, casually leaning against the counter and handing C their cup. “okay, and?”

“and you’re encouraging it,” C snapped.

D’s lips curved into a slow, almost playful smile. “maybe i like having them around. they’re something else, don’t you agree?”

C’s stomach tightened, a knot of jealousy twisting inside them. “that’s not the point. you and i both know their intentions aren’t just to ‘hang out’ with you.”

D shrugged, clearly unbothered. “so what if that’s the case? why do you have your underwear in a bunch about this?”

C looked away, jaw clenched tight, because for a moment—just a moment—they weren’t sure if their feelings for you were all negative. and that scared them.

D’s voice softened, but the teasing lilt remained. “i wasn’t lying when i told you that i find their company nice, C. they’re more interesting than half the student population here combined.” there was a pause, heavy and deliberate. “they’re pretty hot too. i wouldn’t mind asking them out either one of these days.”

C stared at the dark-haired rockstar, struggling to find the words. D was still smirking, knowing exactly how this was affecting them—knowing, and enjoying every second of it.

“are you being serious about this?” C asked, finally.

D’s smile widened, and they leaned in just a little closer. “wouldn’t you like to know?”

and with that, D walked away with a melodic hum, leaving C alone with their thoughts. the ceramic cup cracked under their iron grip and dripped hot coffee on the counter and their skin. somehow, they couldn’t bring themself to care about that.

[ninuwrites]

the show|LH+WW

summary: wade just can’t leave you alone with one request so you come up with an idea

warnings: smut, voyeurism, p in v, m and f masturbation

a/n: i had this idea for a really long time and finally i did it!!! hope you enjoy, english is not my first language btw so sorry for any mistakes!! love you all💋

———————————————————————————

logan would do anything for you.

he won’t show it much, but you both know you have him wrapped around your finger.

there were only few things he wouldn’t allow.

one of them being that he’s the only one that could touch you.

he can’t stand seeing guys even looking your way. every time he just wants to claw their eyes out.

so when wade was asking AGAIN to join your bedroom activities, logans first reaction was to beat him up and stab his face over and over again.

let’s say you weren’t really against of wade joining you, you just loved logan too much and you knew all about his possessive situation.

that’s when you came up with idea where both of the men would end up somehow happy.

“he can watch us.” you blurted out when wade wouldn’t stop talking about logans “fuckingly beautiful hawaian rolls” and how he compered you to a greek goddess.

both men were just blankly starting at you. to be honest they did not expect you to respond like that, but you wanted to satisfy both of them. (and for wade to shut up)

wade just smirked and starting babbling something about that he’ll make you fall for him and you should stop pretending and be with him (he always knew how to get on logans nerves).

logan just looked at you, looking a bit shocked and pissed at the same time. you smiled at him, “it won’t be that bad baby, will just give him a show.” you said and kissed his temple.

“come ooon kitty cat, what scared i’ll steal your girl?” wade grinned and oh boy how hard it was for logan to not stab his fucking face all over again.

but how could he say no to a woman like you?

so that’s how you found yourself on your back with a skirt and a bra ( cause logan would not let wade see all of you) with logan between you legs and his tongue lapping at your slopping hole.

“oh she sounds like a heaven.” wade moaned out, spreading his legs and touching his dick through his jeans.

“eyes on me sweetheart.” logan growled, his hands gripping your hips harder than before, making you look back between your legs, his grip definitely leaving some marks.

one of his hands carefully came up your cunt while one of his fingers slowly entered your heat. after few pumps he immediately joined another finger.

you jolted from the sudden movement and pulled his hair , getting a moan from the man which got him feasting on you more aggressively.

“wolvie come on make the girl finish.” wade spoke up.

as logan was about to scream at him to shut his fucking mouth but you managed to take his face into your hands and whispered “don’t let him get you” and “you make me feel so good”

logan gave you a kiss and continued to suck on your clit and pumping his fingers in and out of you adding a third one.

“lo- yes please i’m so close.” you moaned out and looked at the place wade was sitting.

his jeans were unbuttoned, shirt was off and his hand was carefully stroking his rock hard cock in the same rhythm as logan was getting you off. you looked into his eyes and moaned again.

“go on honey, let go f’ me will ya?” logan said with his movements speeding up, his thick fingers hitting the sweetest spot in your hot needing cunt.

in the same time, wades hand and breath was speeding up as your moans got louder and the feeling in your tummy got bigger.

“oh yes lo i’m c- i’m cumming!” you screamed, your eyes never leaving wade.

wade threw his head back and spilled all over his jeans and stomach.

“enjoying the show wade?” you asked still out of breath and logan licking you cunt clean.

“you’re unreal sweetie pie.” his legs twitched.

“oh that was just foreplay, here comes the best part.” you smirked and pulled logan by his shirt to face you.

between kisses, you pulled his shirt down and made him sit on the bed so you were on top of him.

you trailed wet kisses down his neck, to his chest and down to his lower tummy. logan meanwhile played with the meat of your ass and tights.

you pulled his boxers down, his cock springing out and hitting his stomach.

“you’re so beautiful lo, always make me feel so good.” you said your eyes never leaving gis as you gave his res tip kitten licks and small kisses.

logan growled and took your hair into is hands , urging you down to his cock.

“don’t tease baby.” he breathed out and you finally relaxed your jaw and took his girth inside your mouth.

“so good to me honey, love your mouth so much.” he growled and pulled your head closer, your nose almost touching his happy trail.

“you can do it baby, so pretty.” he was looking down at you, your eyes were glossy, mouth full and red lips. he could cum just by looking at you.

as he feels your nose touching his abdomen he was a goner. his legs tensed and the grip on your hair tightened.

“okay off, wanna- wanna cum in you.” he patted your head. you gave his shaft one last lick and a kiss on the tip.

“oh man, honey badger you’re one lucky motherfucker.” wade stated.

you looked at him and smirked, sending him a air-kiss. logan just grabbed your face and kissed you, “ride me sweetheart, want to feel you so bad.” logan winced.

oh how you loved seeing logan like this so needy even if he doesn’t show it. the man is down bad for you.

you kissed his jaw, his hand gripped your hips as he helped you sink down his veiny and thick girth.

“so- so big lo- fill me so good- can feel you so deep.” you mumbled out, not sure your words had some sense.

after a few moments you started moving your hips slowly, occasionally grinding on logans thick cock.

“yes baby so tight, sucking me in like a little slut.” logan said making you moan, you loved when he talked to you while his dick was buried inside you.

“my girl, my pretty pretty girl.” logan whispered his hips slamming back to yours.

you looked to the side, checking on wade that was absolutely astonished by you. his eyes couldn’t leave yours, you tried saying something but you felt too good to even form a sentence.

you tried to speed up you movements, but your legs were wearing out which logan took advantage of and slammed you on your back.

his lips never left yours as he reentered you again. your eyes rolled back and your nails dug into his back which made logan moaned.

“squeezing me like a vice bub, let go for me love. give it to me baby.” he urged, his hips slamming into yours, “look at me when you cum.” he growled.

out of nowhere, your orgasm washed over you, your legs trembling, digging the heels of your legs into logan and moaning out logans name.

you looked so beautiful that it was hard for logan to keep it together. he fucked you over your orgasm ti near overstimulation.

“almost there baby.” he spoke up, reminding that he won’t hold for long.

“yeah want my cum sweetheart? gonna fill you up so good baby, fuck a baby into you.” he groaned, his hips stuttering as he shot his load into your overstimulated cunt.

logan fell on top of you, holding up by his hands. as you both calmed down, you kissed, slow and loving after sex make out. (as always)

“oh god, it should be illegal for you to be together. like fuck it’s not fair that both of you are so hot..” wade started speaking again.

you looked over to face logan again,

“at least now we know how to shut him up.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: When We Met

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn't end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

As you approach the sandwich shop, another pedestrian comes up from the other side. You open the door and hold it for them, waiting patiently for them to go first. The place isn’t very busy, you can wait an extra turn to get your food. 

The man barely acknowledges you as he enters. You’re used to that. In the city, manners run down the gutters with the rain and litter.  

You follow him inside. As he stomps to the counter, poking his ear in agitation, you stand back in a single-person queue. You check the chalkboard menu for the soups of the day. Oh, cabbage. They make the best cabbage soup you’ve ever had. 

You bounce on your heels as your gaze wanders over the monochrome wall art over the handcrafted wood tables. You open and close the flap of your crossbody purse. Your father always said you flutter like a hummingbird. Never quiet still and a little skittish. 

Behind the glaze of your distraction, the man’s deep snarl breaks through. You blink and lean to see around him. The cashier bats her lashes and puffs out her cheeks, “sorry sir, we discontinued the Mexican wrap, but the chipotle is similar--” 

“I don’t want the fucking chipotle,” he cups his ear and growls as he pushes his head into his hand.  

“They don’t send us the cilantro lime sauce anymore, sir,” the employee explains. “But I could add some peppers--” 

“Can’t you understand me?” He snips. 

“Erm, if you... if you put a bit of cilantro on, it would be close, wouldn’t it?” You ask, cringing as your thoughts spill out without intention. 

The man glares over his shoulder as his cheek pits derisively. He squints and shakes his head. He throws his arms out and faces the cashier again. “Whatever. Give me the damn chipotle with cilantro. I’m starving.” He reaches back for his wallet, “some fucking week...” he mutters. 

He slides the leather wallet above his pocket but it catches and falls from his grasp. He growls and bends to retrieve it. “Another fucking thing...” 

You watch him pick up his wallet and finger his ear again. It seems to cause him pain. The cashier watches helplessly. You feel bad for both of them. It just seems like a miscommunication. 

“Um, excuse me,” you wave two fingers at the cashier. “Can you add a cabbage soup and I’ll for both?” 

The employee blinks and the man snaps up with a scowl. They both stand in silent surprise. He finally shakes his head. “Why would you do that?” His tone makes it sound like an accusation. 

“I don’t know. Seems like you’re having a bad day and I can?” You shrug and cautiously step forward, “can I also get an iced raspberry tea?” 

“Uhhhh, sure,” the employee keys in the items. 

“Sir, did you want a drink?” You twist back to the man as he stands aside with a leery squint. He just shakes his head. 

“Alright, that’s everything. No cookie today,” you dig in your purse. “Debit, please.” 

She hits total and you pay. The receipt juts out of the machine and you step to the side to wait with one last thanks to the cashier. You tuck your card away and slip your phone out as your hands long to fidget. You know the man is staring, you can feel it, but you don’t want to piss him off even more than he already is. 

The lull that follow is torturous. The man’s wrap is up first and you wait for him to take it. He hesitates and you hand it to him. 

“I hope it’s still good,” you say with a smile at his throat. You’re too scared to look him in the eye. 

“You know I have money,” he grits. 

“Oh, no, that’s not... it isn’t... just a nice thing. Like, maybe one day you can pay it forward. I don’t know,” you rock sheepishly and look behind the counter. 

He nods and backs up. The cashier puts your soup up and your iced tea. You thank her and take your food.  

“Have a good one, sir.” 

You shuffle away to the table in the corner. You sit, self-conscious as the man lingers. Is he mad? You don’t think you were rude. 

The man sighs and goes up to the counter, “hey, look, I’m... sorry,” his words are stiff as if he could choke on them. “Thanks for the wrap.” 

“Oh, uh, okay, sir,” the cashier sounds shocked. “Um, enjoy.” 

You stir the soup and blow away the steam. As you scoop up a spoonful, the man approaches. You look at the velvet toes of his loafers then follow them up. He sits without invitation. 

You stare at him and lower your spoon. 

“Thanks for the wrap,” he says. “I was being a—jerk.” The last word is stunted as if he meant to say something else. “Mind if I eat with you?” 

You look around. The place is empty. You shrug. 

“Sure,” you grab the iced tea and swirl the ice. “Be nice to have company, I guess.” 

He hums and shifts in the chair. He peels away the wrapper and you sip from the straw. You put the cup down and stare into your soup. Your eyes flick up again and you find him staring. 

“Lloyd,” he offers his hand across the table, “but you can just call me that jackass who yells at people.” 

You give your name in return, his change in tone soothing your nerves. 

“You been here before?” He asks. 

“Once in a while,” you say. “When I can afford it. It’s a special treat. They have good soup.” 

He nods and looks down at the wrap, “yeah, food is pretty decent.” He lifts the wrap but doesn’t bite into it. He hovers it before him. “You know, you didn’t have to be nice to me.” 

“You never know what other people are going through. Sometimes, they just need some kindness,” you say. “And if they’re just a butthole, well, you’re not going to change that by matching their energy.” 

His brows arch, and he tilt his head. He sucks in his cheeks thoughtfully, “well, I think I’m just a butthole, as you put it. Thanks for giving me a chance.” 

You don’t know what to say. It’s awkward. You usually eat alone. You don’t have anyone to eat with, not since dad passed. Still, not all change is bad, is it? You’ve already faced the worst kind of change. 

You lean forward and take a bite of your soup. Sometimes making someone’s day easier makes your own a little brighter. As of late, none of them have been more than gloomy. 

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Back to Here - No Love Lost One Shot

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: One-shot request from the amazing @afroslacks! Title from Shade of Yellow by Griff

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary/Warnings: Takes place in Chapter 14. We once again face the horny fluff.

When you’d told Ben you were okay with him touching you in front of everyone, your exact phrasing was as long as you’re not gross. You’re absolutely positive he’d heard you as well, because he’d rolled his eyes before kissing the words out of your mouth.

But the man doesn’t listen. On purpose. You know it’s on purpose, because usually he’ll grunt and grumble but do what you tell him, and right now he’s not even pretending to remember.

What’s annoying is that you’re not even that mad about it. What’s more annoying is that he knows you’re not mad about it, because he’s not even worried about you making him stop. Ben never pushes your lines to tries try see if he can make you budge, because he knows you won’t and he’ll get in trouble. But that also means he’s impossibly good at knowing what lines aren’t real. What things you tell him to do that you say because sometimes you just say stuff. Sometimes you’re just trying to pretend that you’re not always thirsty for him, don’t always want him at your side.

And the asshole has you figured out. He knows that when you say we’re going to team dinners every night you mean it, but when you say play nice with everyone you’re talking about everyone except Butcher. Ben knows that if you tell him clean up after yourself you’re serious, because that’s the start of it. Ben cleans up once and now, months later, you somehow trust him with your life and every part of you he’ll take. He also knows if you tell him we need to get out of bed he can just hold you tighter and you’ll immediately give in with a sigh.

He knows when you say not everything, not yet it’s important that he listens. That he can take everything else he wants except that, and he does. Ben touches you everywhere you’ll let him, but waits for you to give him the clear to take more.

He knows that when you said don’t be gross you just meant don’t make me visibly horny in front of everyone. Don’t make me grind into you or pin me on top of the table. 

And he is walking that line very precariously.

“Bloody fuckin hell,” Butcher mutters, and you can feel his glare from across the table. “You twats can’t keep it in your pants for one hour? Some of us are tryin to eat.”

“They are still in their pants,” Frenchie’s words are muffled from a mouthful of pasta. “And I am eating just fine.”

“That’s cause you’re a fuckin pervert, Mate.” Butcher snaps. “I didn’t come here to see two supes neckin like teenagers. I came here because Hughie gets all bloody puppy faced when I don’t.”

“You promised-“

Butcher cuts Hughie off with a scoff. “I’m here, ain’t I? And I would appreciate it if I could fuckin eat my shitty ass spaghetti without worryin that Soldier Boy’s gonna cum all over the table!”

A chorus of groans echoes through the room, and it’s almost enough to make you push Ben away.

Almost. But he drops his mouth to your neck, pulls you closer in his side, and you decide you can find a way to live with yourself.

You’re starting to worry that he can read your mind. Because before that brief hesitation even fades, Ben sucks the skin at the base of your throat once—sloppy and wet—and pulls away. You’re grateful, half because you can bury your flushed face in his shoulder as he gives Butcher a lazy grin, and half because you were getting dangerously close to climbing on top of him.

“It’s not our fault all you pussies have blue balls.” Ben drawls, and you kick him under the table, glaring up at his stupid, smug, handsome face.

Don’t be an ass.

He rolls his eyes. They’re being fucking prudes.

Benjamin.

“You two care to have this conversation out loud?” You turn to see MM looking at you with a bored expression. He’s never really pissed about this anymore, and you think he just gave up on being disgusted. He doesn’t like it, but he’s not mad. It’s honestly more than you could ask for.

“No.”

You whack Ben’s arm. “Sorry. We’ll stop.”

Ben scoffs, and hunches over his plate. His arm over your shoulders drops down, tugging you into his side so you can only move your hands—everything past that trapped against his body—and you don’t care. He’s touching you, and he’s warm, and you can feel his annoyance but it’s nothing compared to his desire. It’s nothing compared to the affection you can feel rush through him when you give him a smile, even if he just grunts and glares at his pasta like it’s the one that cock-blocked him.

You know it’s a lie. You might not lie to Ben, but you lie a lot to your team. You lie to Hughie when you say you like certain Billy Joel songs because you don’t want him to gape at you and try to convince you otherwise. You lie to Frenchie when you say you’d love nothing more than to hear about his latest supe-killing weapon, because he gets really excited—it’s kind of adorable—and sometimes it’s actually pretty interesting. You lie to Annie when she picks you up for lunch and asks—every time without fail—what’s going on between you and Ben. You say it’s complicated, but it’s not. It’s actually really simple: You want Ben more than you’ve ever wanted anything and he wants you but not like that, just as a friend he can fuck. And that kills you a little, so you’re trapped in this limbo where Ben can almost make you moan at the dinner table—but you won’t let him just carry you back to your bed and make you scream and fall apart under him—and Annie can give her a look that tells you she knows. She knows you won’t stop doing this. There won’t be more tonight, because Butcher’s still glaring at you and Hughie’s whole face looks like a tomato, but tomorrow the exact same thing will almost certainly happen. Ben will kiss you once, innocently enough if you’d only seen it in passing, and you’ll taste him, you'll feel the want pounding in his chest, and immediately pull him closer. The absolute fucking asshole always anticipates you keeping yourself against him—he plans on it—and his arm will immediately move over your shoulders, hand reaching your jaw to angle your head where he wants it. And then he’ll go and go and go until someone coughs—Hughie or Annie—or makes a remark—Butcher or MM—and he finds whatever line you have for the day. Then he’ll pull back and you have to pretend you’re fine with it. Like your pouting is because he’s being cocky and annoying and not because you wish he would pick you up and lay you on the table. 

It’ll happen the after as well, then again after that, then every night until Butcher either shoots one of you or you figure out a way to just attach Ben to you forever. 

End Note: They really can make any situation horny. Also if you've noticed I'm re-using gifs, yeah :( I am. Please sign my petition to make Jensen Ackles just do stuff in character so we can have more gifs.

If you like this story, reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles

[cherrycolored-punk]

NHTK - Chapter Two

Masterlist

pairing: brother's best friend! Eddie Munson x fem! Reader, reader is Reefer Rick’s little sister.

w/c: 6.2k

author's note: this is a repost from my previous blog @strangemagicc but somewhat re-written, some of their story has changed. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please reblog if you did, support is always appreciated!

warnings: angst, mention of cheating (technically not reader), mention of anxiety and a past car accident, brief mention of money issues for reader

Then:

“Fucking shit!” 

Eddie can hear the worry in your voice as he rounds the corner. The sound of his heavy boots against the tiled floor catches your attention.

The fear is vibrant in your eyes when you turn to him, a quiet cry for help and he can’t help but chuckle at the scene. At the state of your brows pushed together, face twisted in horror.

He looks over your shoulder, noticing that the popcorn is overfilled and smoke is billowing from behind the glass doors of the machine. Charred pieces of popcorn fall into the vat; the burnt smell wafts around you and fills the air.

“Way to go, Little Lipton,” he laughs and moves around you to turn off the machine.

“Shut up,” but the words come out like a whine.

You’re already annoyed that he caught you creating a mess and even more peeved that he’s looking at you with that cocky smirk of his.

“Alright,” he sighs heavily, “this one is going to be out of commission for a bit, so we’ll need to make sure that one is always prepped with fresh kernels,” he tilts his chin to the only other popcorn machine and leans against the counter with his arms crossed.

“Out of commission?” Your voice raises an octave, face twisting in horror as his words make alarms blare in your skull.

“Yeah,” he chuckles as though his next words are obvious.

“We have to clean this one before we use it, or all the other batches are going to taste like shit, and that’s not the easiest or fastest task.”

“He’s going to kill me,” you groan and drop your head back.

He being your manager and a major pain in your ass since the day you started working here. Mark wanted things a certain way; candies lined in a specific direction, cups displayed for the customers to see, popcorn made to perfection and not burnt until it turned to dust.

“Probably not kill, just maim,” Eddie shrugs with a crooked grin, a glint of amusement in his chestnut eyes as he stares down at you.

“You never told me what to do if I burnt the kernels,” you abruptly look up at him and swat at his arm. 

His smile grows wider at your display.

“That’s because I told you not to overfill the kettle and never thought you’d ignore that tidbit,” he sighs dramatically, “guess that’s what I get for thinking.”

Reflexively he moves out of arm’s reach before you can do any serious damage.

Eddie enjoys the way your lower lip juts out, how your forehead creases between your eyebrows when you are mad, and fuck, were you pissed.

It had been nearly two weeks since you started working at Hawk Theater, trying to save up for the new camcorder you’d been eying, and Eddie had been assigned to train you.

Or his form of training, which was a lot of “this is how they want us to do it, but this is what works.”

The problem was that you’d been distracted.

It was the way his smile lifted to the side and the way he tied his long curls into a messy ponytail. How he’d look at you when you caught onto something quick or the reassurance he’d quickly give when you didn’t. And sometimes, the sun would shine through the windows and hit his eyes just right, making them look like molten honey.

You couldn’t help the nervous flutters that sprung to life when he was near, your childhood crush resurfacing with teeth and taking hold of you.

It made it hard to listen and remember the instructions he told you, like not to fill the kernels past the very obvious line or else.

He never expounded on the or else, but negative consequences were heavily implied.

“You’re such a jerk,” you rebut, but the venom fell flat, the insult sounding endearing to Eddie’s ears.

“You already knew I was, sweetheart. Don’t know why you expected anything different now that you work with me,” he begins cleaning out the popcorn machine. Dumping the burnt kernels into the trash can before adding the cleaning solution to the kettle.

Your heart is still fluttering, replaying the single pet name over and over again.

“Guess that’s what I get for thinking,” you mimick him and begin helping him clean so the two of you would be ready for opening in thirty minutes.

Eddie watches you from the corner of his eye, the way your gaze is lit with mischief as you tease him, and he can't help but smile to himself.

“Are you two trying to set this place on fire?” Mark Huntzberger, the manager, bellows as he came down the stairs from his office. He eyes the mess you made with a stern, critical eye that shifts over the concession stand and back to you.

The air still smells of burnt kernels and puffs of smoke still swirl in the air - highlighted by the afternoon sun peeking through the windows.

You can’t help the way you shrink under his scrutiny.

“I know this may just be some summer job to you, but this is my livelihood. If you can’t get it together by the end of the week, I will make sure this one fires you.” He points a fat finger at Eddie before turning his attention to him. 

Munson’s face has gone flat, eyebrows set in a straight line. Jaw tense.

“It was an honest mistake,” Eddie interjects.

“Clean it up,” Huntzberger orders before disappearing into the ticket booth.

“Why did I think this was going to be easy or fun?” You question more to yourself than to Eddie, shoulders tense as you tie the trash bag containing the burnt kernels before pulling it from the bin.

“Because the town fuck up works here, how hard can it be?” He nudges you with a wink, wiping the inside of the soiled popcorn machine with a clean rag.

“Move over, Eddie. Someone’s about to take your place,” you giggle and walk towards the exit doors that lead to the alley behind the cinema.

Eddie drops the rag into the popcorn machine, following you outside.

The summer air is suffocating with its humidity—the sharp stench of spoiled food wafting from the dumpsters causing you to wince as you approach the dumpster.

“Don’t do that. It’s the only thing I got going for me,” his grin grows wider as he walks in step with you.

He was all self-deprecation all the time, and you begin to wonder how much of it he really believes—the thought causing a pang of sadness to twist in your gut.

You lift the bag over your head, but he stops you, taking it from your grasp and hoisting it into the metal canister.

“Y’know it’s not true, Ed’s,” you begin, brushing your hands off and looking up at him. Eyes nearly squinted closed from the intensity of the sun.

“What’s not?” He questions, leaning against a brick wall that hid the dumpsters from the rest of the alley.

You stand in front of him, toe to toe, trying to hide the way your gaze dances over his face. Tracing the freckles that line his nose and admiring the dimple pushed into his cheek as he smiles at you.

And fuck, he’s caught you staring.

“That you don’t have anything else going for you,” you clear your throat, “you have lots of talents-“

“Ah, yes, I am known for my natural ability to annoy and antagonize,” he interrupts, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re so annoying,” but the words sound more affectionate than irked.

“I’m being serious,” you begin again, “I mean, I don’t know many people who can learn a new song on the guitar half as fast as you. Didn’t you learn Master of Puppets in like a week?”

You shrug, doing your best to be nonchalant.

“And what about all the stuff you know about cars? Or the random tidbits about pop culture and music? You’re like an encyclopedia britannica,” you continue with a small laugh.

“For all things useless,” he corrects. 

You poke his side causing him to flinch away from your touch, swatting your hand in the process.

“I mean it!” You insist, gaze holding his. 

It’s the exact look you get when you’re excited about something, and Eddie chuckles, ears turning a shade of red from the attention you’re giving him.

“You’re just trying to flatter me so I don’t fire you,” he jokes, but you continue to look up at him with a dramatic bat of your eyes, inching closer.

“Is it working?” You retort, exaggerating the breathiness of your voice.

For a brief moment, you see his confident facade falter - his eyes darting between your eyes and the plush of your lips as he swallows hard. 

But in an instant, it returns.

“Flattery always works with me, sweetheart,” he winks and turns back to the building.

There it was again.

Your heart stops, skips, and starts again as you will your legs to move. You watch his retreating frame, eyes boring into the back of his head.

“You coming?” He doesn’t stop walking, and you take wide steps to catch up with him.

Before you walk back through the door, you grab his arm and turn him to face you. He’d successfully evaded your compliments before, but you needed him to know it wasn’t empty praise.

“I meant what I said, Eds.” 

He looks at you with a questioning perk of his eyebrow but doesn’t verbalize his confusion so you continue on.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” you squeeze his arm softly so he can feel your sincerity.

When he doesn’t say anything, you release his appendage with an uncertain grin and pull open the door, the cold cinema air greeting you.

Eddie watches your retreating frame for a moment, a little taken aback, before following you to the concession stand.

The two of you fall into an easy silence as you work. 

You wipe the counters and finish cleaning the popcorn machine, carefully following Eddie’s instructions while he sets up the rope dividers in between each register, making sure things are organized just as Mark liked before the doors opened.

He looks at you every so often, and you try to hide the way his subtle attention affects you, keeping your head down and focused on counting your till. Having to recount when you catch him looking again.

But finally, you’re ready for the day; doors unlocked, and fresh edible popcorn ready for the masses. A small line of moviegoers already stood in front of the ticket booth.

The two of you rest your backs against the counter, waiting for the first customer to approach, when Eddie leans over to you, warm breath fanning your ear.

“Thanks, (Y/N).”

It was the first time he said your name. Acknowledged you as something other than Little Lipton.

The first time Eddie saw you as more than just his best friend’s little sister.

—————

Now:

Eddie clamors into his trailer, heavy boots dragging across the worn carpet as he trudges to the kitchen and swings open the fridge, grabbing a six-pack that is nearly gone.

He spreads out on the couch and chugs one can before reaching for another, eyes darting around his home. Uncle Wayne had been gone for nearly a week on another cross-country drop-off, and Eddie usually enjoyed having the place to himself, but now the silence engulfed him.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly as the seconds pass, his thoughts clashing into each other.

—————

Then:

Eddie tries to keep his attention on the TV as you enter the room for the fourth time that afternoon.

Rick shakes his head, taking a quick absent look in your direction.

“Dude, I think my sister might like you,” your brother laughs as you disappear back into your room.

Eddie scoffs at his words, but the thrum of his heart would’ve given him away if Rick could hear it.

“I’d never date your sister,” Eddie nudges his arm against Rick’s, eyes still trained on the video game as he sniped an enemy target, but his mind wanders behind the wood of your door. Wondering what you’re doing and if Rick might actually be right.

“Like I’d let you,” he chuckles, breaking Munson’s train of thought.

Eddie’s brow twists in confusion, and it isn’t lost on Rick. 

He turns to his friend with a flippant roll of his eyes and a gentle nudge against the metalhead’s shoulder. Prepared to emphasize his point.

“Oh, come on. I love you, man, but there’s no way in hell I’d let my sister date a guy like you.”

Eddie chuckles along with Rick to conceal the sting of his friend’s words.

He knows all the things that people don’t like about him. His hair, his tattoos. The bad reputation he’d more than earned, but to hear it from his best friend made it sting more.

He can’t help but wonder if you see him that way, a loser with no future—just the town freak. 

And in that moment, he promises himself that he’ll never put himself out there to know.

—————

Now:

Eddie presses his palm to his eye, a headache building behind his orbital bone. 

Rick’s words reverberate off his skull as he grapples with the feelings he’s long ignored. The feelings that had sprouted and made a home of him since the summer he worked with you.

Eddie can still feel your lips against his, the electricity still humming in his veins, and fuck, he wishes it had lasted a moment longer.

He made a mistake, a huge mistake, and winces every time he thinks about the look on your face when he pushed you back into the passenger seat.

Eddie knows that if it went further, you’d only regret it once the sun rose and you’d sobered up. Once the realization hit that you’d slept with the pariah of Hawkins and he couldn’t live with you seeing him that way, with you regretting him.

Not when he already saw it in so many eyes around town.

He isn’t exactly someone you could take home, someone you could brag about or show off a picture of. He knows that much, has been told that much, and already accepts it as truth.

When girls got with Eddie, they expected fun. They expected drugs and a quick hookup.

Some of them never talked to him again, pretended they didn’t know him when they ran into him in town, and others told him that being with him made them realize they’d hit rock bottom.

God, he couldn’t handle you telling him that he was your rock bottom.

Eddie decides that it’s better to ignore it, to ignore you. Better to pretend it didn’t happen despite the way he feels. To spare himself from the regret he knew you’d eventually feel.

—————

Now:

It’s a rainy day, and fat drops bounce off the windshield as your father drives. Faster than usual. 

In a hurry but you don’t know where to.

The air conditioner is off, creating a layer of condensation on the windows. Making your legs stick to the leather seats of your family’s beat-up station wagon.

You draw butterflies on the glass, a small finger tracing against the cool pane. Grinning wide as your drawings expose the gray sky and the way the dark clouds roll quickly against its expanse.

The low hum of Strawberry Fields Forever plays over the radio, but your parent’s voices are louder.

Angrier.

Your mom sniffles, and you lean up in your seat to see if she’s crying, but the length of her hair conceals her face from view.

“Mama,” you push against her seat with your sneakered foot, but she doesn’t respond.

“Jude, please pull over. I can drive.” Your mom insists, tugging at your father’s arm, but he shoves her off. 

You unbuckle your seat belt and pull at your mom’s shirt, trying to get her attention.

“Mom.”

But your voice is cut off, muffled below the volume of the radio as your dad’s hand reaches for the dial turning it until your ears ring.

You shrink back into your seat, lower lip jutted as you look between the two of them. No longer able to understand what your parents are saying, the scene in front of you a mix of gestures and twisted faces making you more confused.

Your mother pulls on your dad’s arm again, and he shoves her off, turning his head to look at her. Mouth wide as he speaks, but you still can’t understand what he’s saying.

Everything else becomes a blur of lights and pain—endless pain shooting from your leg and throughout your body.

Your cries wrack your body but are silent to your own ears. The scene around you a mix of broken glass and lifeless eyes.

Then darkness.

-

You wake up in a cold sweat, wild gaze darting around the room as sit up in bed. The fabric of your tank top clings to your sweat-slicked skin uncomfortably, and your head pounds behind your eyes. A rhythm that matches the way your heart is beating against your ribcage. 

Bile rises in your throat, the nausea that always accompanies the nightmare.

The sting of your leg a reminder of the accident, of the pain from that day.

You press a palm into the skin of your thigh, massaging the muscle marred by a thick scar that’s a shade lighter than the rest of your flesh. It aches like it just happened, like you are ten years old and trapped in that car again. 

You groan uncomfortably and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to bring yourself back to the present. Trying to ground yourself with the distant sound of the coffee maker and the smell of burnt toast. The soft song of the birds outside of your window.

Slowly you become grounded, heart settling into a steady rhythm, and open your eyes.

Sunlight streams through your sheer curtains in brilliant rays, yellow hues creating a soft glow along your pale blue walls and highlighting the dust that dances through the air.

You throw your head back against the pillow, not ready to face the day. 

Images of the night before flooding your vision.

Simon and Rachel, her mouth pressed to his. The way she smiled up at him, held his hand.

The scene too familiar for a random drunken hook-up.

You press your palms into your eyes, rubbing until you see swirls. Until you are reminded of Eddie’s stunned face when you sat in his lap, hands pressed to his chest. The way he bucked into you.

The way he pushed you back into the passenger seat.

“Fucking idiot,” you groan with embarrassment and pull your pillow over your face, letting out a muffled scream.

You stay concealed under the pillow, contemplating jumping into the lake and disappearing altogether. Definitely not ready to face Simon and Rachel. Or Eddie.

You flail your body around as another wave of embarrassment rolls through you, causing your pillow to fall from your face.

The incessant buzz of your phone catches your attention, and you glance over at its illuminated face. The screen full of notifications that you can see without grabbing it.

Hesitantly you reach for it, eyes pouring over all the texts.

11:55PM

Simon: Guess you decided not to come tonight?

12:00AM

Simon: helloooo?

12:23AM

Simon: so you’re just going to ignore me now cos I asked you to go out?

Simon: not like we can’t do date night another time, wanted to go have some fun for once

1:03AM

Simon: so you did show up

Simon: you left with MUNSON?

2:30AM

Simon: you’re really just going to ignore me?

2:33AM

Rachel: (Y/N)?

Rachel: Simon is really worried about you

7:49AM

Simon: We need to talk

8:36AM

Rachel: Text me when you’re awake

You swallow the emotion that arose and wonder if their guilt had kept them awake, if it had eaten at them or settled into their chest. Felt whenever they breathed.

Were they even capable of that?

Slowly you push the sheets off the bed and force your legs over the edge one by one until your feet are planted firmly in the plush carpet, your back still pressed against the mattress. Phone forgotten, lost somewhere in your purple comforter.

You will yourself off the mattress and clamor out your bedroom door. Mind focused on getting a glass of water to cure your dry mouth.

The throb of your head returns as the smell of burnt toast grows stronger, and fuck, why did you drink so much last night?

You can only assume the assault on your nose is your brother’s fault.

“Is it really that hard to cook toast, Rick?” You complain loudly as you stumble into the kitchen and throw open a cabinet door, reaching for a glass on the top shelf.

You turn towards the sink, blissfully unaware that there is a set of eyes on you. Watching as you whistle and fill your glass to the brim. Foot tapping to a song that only you can hear.

Eddie watches you, a little petrified like a deer caught in the headlights.

He knew he’d see you, it was your house after all, but he wasn’t prepared for how much he’d see.

His eyes trace over your legs, stalling on the swell of your ass. He watches as you lean over the counter to get a better view of the lake from the window just above your sink. The angle exposing a glimpse of your butt cheeks.

It’s like you know what you’re doing, know that he’s watching and driving him just a little bit insane.

He swallows harshly, refocusing his attention back on his breakfast. Doing his best to ignore you like he’d planned.

“If it isn’t little miss sunshine,” your brother greets, his words dripping with their usual sarcasm.

You turn around to mock him but stopped in your tracks, eyes practically bulging from your skull when you notice Eddie, and you grip your cup harder.

Had he been sitting there the whole time?

He quietly nibbles on a piece of bacon. Avoiding your eye contact entirely.

The embarrassment you felt before flares awake, and god, you want to crawl into a hole and disappear entirely.

Blinking rapidly, you shift your gaze back to Rick.

He sits at the table, grabbing a plate and shoveling food onto its surface. Eggs, bacon, and the incredibly burnt toast.

“Have work today?”

“Like I do every Saturday,” you shrug, tone bored and doing your best not to glance at the metalhead out of the corner of your eye.

You sip your water, focusing on how its cool temperature slides across your tongue—trying to focus on anything else.

“I’m not going to be able to take you to work. Mrs. Wheeler needs me to take a look at her car and then I’m picking up some extra hours at the shop.”

You had yet to overcome your fear of driving, already having a hard time just being a passenger. 

“Can’t mom take me?” you question, but Rick’s head is already shaking as you get the words out.

“The transmission is acting up in her car. Need to look at it,” he states around a mouth full of food.

“Then how is she getting to work?” You set your cup onto the counter sharper than you intended and fold your arms over your chest.

“She’s not, has one of her headaches again,” he gestures to his head and shovels more food into his mouth.

“That’s why I need the overtime and for you to go to work, we need the cash. Next deal isn’t coming in before the light bill is due.”

Your shoulders sag—the constant stress of bills weighing heavy on you.

“I can just walk or get an uber,” you suggest with a tight smile, reaching over to grab a piece of bacon. 

The walk isn’t that long.

“Your uber is already here,” he points his head towards Eddie, and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at his suggestion.

Not happening.

“I can just walk,” you reaffirm quickly, causing Eddie’s eyebrow to quirk.

“Why are you acting like such a brat?” 

You roll your eyes.

“I’m not, just don’t want to make Eddie go out of his way for me.” You unfold your arms and gestured absently towards him.

It was mostly true anyway, you didn’t like the idea of returning to the scene of the crime or spending the twenty minutes it would take for him to drive you to work in awkward silence.

“He’s not, stop being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” you scoff, voice rising slightly and definitely being weird.

“Besides, I can just ask Simon to give me a ride,” you shrug nonchalantly, taking another bite of bacon. 

Rick doesn’t need to know that you aren’t talking to Simon and definitely wouldn’t be getting a ride from him.

Eddie’s elbow settles against the wooden dining table as he watches you and the way you so easily lie to your brother.

“Jesus, fine, whatever.” Your brother holds out a hand to get you to shut up and chugs his orange juice. 

You reach for another piece of bacon but this time off his plate. Rick grabs your hand, shaking the piece out of your grasp, and turns to you—his face twists in disgust when he notices what you’re wearing for the first time.

“Go put some clothes on before Eddie gauges his fucking eyes out.” He wipes his mouth and waves a dismissive hand at you, chuckling at his own lame joke before biting into the bacon that you tried to steal.

Eddie chuckles along with your brother, his pale cheeks blossoming pink. His faux laugh disappears when he notices you sneering in his direction.

“Oh, I’d really hate for him to do that,” your voice drips with sarcasm as you roll your eyes, taking quick steps back down the hall and to your room.

You press your back against the wooden door, a mix of anger and annoyance filling your chest. Overtaking any embarrassment you previously felt.

No, Simon wouldn’t be giving you a ride but neither would Eddie. You’d rather risk showing up a sweaty mess than sit in a car alone with him.

—————

What you didn’t plan on was for it to start raining ten minutes in. 

Large drops had fallen from the sky in quick succession, dark clouds covering the warmth of the sun and creating a chill in the fall air. One of Indiana’s infamous sporadic showers.

The maple leaves are already starting to turn yellow, their brightness a contrast against the gray sky. The air smells of the evergreens, the sharpness of their leaves mixing with the sweetness of the maple trees.

Your feet trudge through the mud, splashing dirt onto the cuffs of your jeans. The road feels longer in the bad weather.

The white of your assistant manager shirt clings to your skin, revealing the pink of your bra, and you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to conceal it.

There’s a small part of you that wishes you had just taken the ride from Eddie, but there’s a bigger part, the more prideful one, that is glad you hadn’t.

Not after the way he’d laughed at you, chuckled at the thought of even being attracted to you. When you’d just mauled him the night before and this would be the perfect time for lightning to strike you down.

To end your misery, the embarrassment clinging to you once again like the fabric of your shirt.

In the distance, you can hear a car approaching, and you move further into the dirt to avoid being hit. 

Hoping it isn’t a creep or a new serial killer looking for his next victim.

But it’s worse.

It’s Eddie.

Smiling at you from his rolled-down window, van driving slowly on the road's edge.

“Are you that fucking stubborn?” He questions, although he already knows the answer.

“Go away, Munson.”

You don’t look at him, eyes focused on the road ahead.

“Simon a no-show, huh?”

You click your teeth, trying to appear nonchalant. Like the words didn’t dig at you.

“Looks like it.”

His shoulders drop as you continue to ignore him, and he decides to appeal to your sensible side instead.

“You’re going to get sick.”

“So?”

And why did he think you could be sensible?

He groans and speeds up a little, parking the car just before you to block your path. You stop in your tracks, listening as he climbs out of the driver’s seat and rounds the car.

“Are we really going to do this again?,” he questions as he trudges toward you. Boots slamming into the mud. Curls a little wild and starting to cling to his face when he looks at you.

“Do what?” You give him an innocent smile, eyelashes batting dramatically. 

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Just get in the fucking car,” he states through gritted teeth, his annoyance only making your grin widen.

“Sure you wouldn’t rather gauge your eyes out?” Your voice drops low, mocking Rick’s tone. 

You drop your smile, gaze a little cold as it meets his, and push past him to continue your walk to work.

He throws his head back, face to the sky. Of course, you were pissed about that.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He turns to you, watching as you get a little further way from him.

“For driving me home last night and making out with me or for laughing at me this morning?” You turn around and begin to walk backward, arms lifting from your side. 

A little tired, a little defeated, and you stop beside his van waiting for his answer - concealed from the rest of the road.

“Laughing at you,” his voice is earnest, “I didn’t mean it.”

You nod, his words a salve to that wound but still, there was the mortifying way he’d pushed you away from him.

Eddie began to walk towards you, drawing closer. The scent of his cologne invading your senses.

“Sure you aren’t sorry about the making out part?” You question, eyes trained on his amber gaze as he approaches.

He swallows roughly and debates whether he should be honest. 

“I’m,” he pauses and sighs heavily, “I’m not sorry about that.”

You shrug your shoulders in an attempt to appear flippant, to seem as though his reassurance doesn’t affect you the way that it did. Heart hammering wildly, legs a little wobbly because Eddie Munson didn’t regret kissing you.

“Well that’s good, I’m glad neither of us regretted it,” you turn back around, missing the way his gaze lit up at your words. The reassurance that he needed.

“Now you can go on your merry way and pretend that you gave me a ride. I promise I won’t tell my brother that you didn’t.”

His hand is warm against your arm as he spins you around to look at him.

Your shoes slide against the wet earth from the force, and it is for a brief moment that you see him before you crash into the soft mud.

“Fuck-“ your curses are synchronized as you fall and pull him atop you, his weight causing you to groan from the sudden impact.

Eddie’s knee is slotted between your legs as he lifts his weight onto his forearms, brown gaze boring into your eyes. An apology on his lips when you begin to laugh. Giggles filling the air around you.

You looked at the evidence of your fall, your white shirt now painted brown. Ruined, and marred from the mud. Your hair is a mess of dirt that clings to your face.

Eddie is nearly devoid of any filth. The only evidence he’d fallen is the mud that soaks through the pants of his jeans. 

And it’s a little bit annoying how he isn’t as muddy as you.

Slowly you reach your finger up and slide it across his pale skin with a wide mischievous smile. Chuckling at the way his eyebrows marry at your actions, the way his jaw juts to this side and he shakes his head.

“You brat,” he lifts a hand and attempts to copy your actions as you try to wiggle away. His free hand stills you, holding you by the waist, as he drags the other across your cheek.

His playful smile mirrors yours.

“You jerk, I have to get to work!” But your tone doesn’t match the light in your eyes.

“I don’t think Huntzberger wants you hovering over the popcorn, let alone walking into the building, like this.”

His eyes roam your body, noticing the way your nipples are pebbled against the pink lace of your bra, easy to see through the sheer fabric of your shirt. The way your jeans hug the flare of your hips as you squirm beneath him.

Your breath hitches as you watch the way his gaze dances over your frame, chest rising and falling at a quick pace that isn’t lost on Eddie.

“How much time do you have before work?” His voice is a little gruff, affected, and it takes a moment for you to form a coherent thought.

You blink rapidly, hands resting on his chest absently, and clear your throat.

He lifts off of you and reaches a hand to help you up, but you pull him down into the mud beside you.

“You little shit!” Eddie looks at himself, the mud that clings to his jacket and jeans.

“Oops,” you shrug and lean out of his way as he throws mud at you.

“I have like two hours,” you laugh, looking at him completely amused.

“How long did you think it was going to take you to walk?” He lays there defeated, chuckle matching yours.

“I don’t know, it was just in case-“

“In case what? You had to fight a pack of wood rats to get through?”

“Shut up,” you shove his face from yours, mud caking his cheek.

Eddie gasps at the same time you do, realization dawning as he tackles you back into the mud.

It was like the whole world fell around you, ceasing to exist except for you and Eddie. His muddied face hovering above yours, long fingers digging into your sides as you try to wiggle away from him.

Your giggles fill the air, and you push at his chest.

“Stop! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Tears spring in your eyes as you push against his chest once more, dirt seeping further into your clothes as you lay there at his mercy.

“Say please,” he insists, and you shake your head, hands gripping his shirt.

For a moment, he stops, fingers stilling at your sides and he smiles at you mischievously. Face moving half an inch closer, and your smile falters briefly, gaze darting to his lips and back to his eyes. Their deep brown staring back at you, a light in them you hadn’t seen.

“You don’t regret it?” He questions, needing to hear it again. His breath fanning against your face.

You shake your head, already knowing the “it” that he thought you regretted. 

Eddie leans closer, his lips a whisper above your own. Shaky breaths mixing with yours.

Your heart skips as you anticipate the first touch, your eyes fluttering closed.

Eddie pulls away, slowly. Hesitantly.

“Think we should get you back home,” he looks down at your dirtied clothes and chuckles, face hovering above yours. You try to hide your disappointment as you nod in agreement.

He pushes himself off of you wiping his hands along his jeans before stretching out his hand to help you up.

Your palm slides against his, caked dirt pressing against his warm hand, and he pulls you against him. Sliding his hands down until they settle on your waist.

His nose traces yours as his fingers dig into your hips, and he swallows hard.

The composure he’d always managed to maintain quickly slipping away.

You tilt your face and run a hand against his jaw, cupping his chin. Thumb lazing against his stubbled flesh drawing circles in his skin.

“Fuck it,” Eddie breathes, and his lips push against yours.

The press of them makes you gasp, they’re just as soft as you remembered but more fervent than before.

His tongue presses at the seam of your lips, swiping against yours when you open for him.

He tastes sweet like spearmint, and you hum.

Exhilaration thrums through you, and you pull him closer, arms wrapping around his neck.

Chest to chest.

Hearts synchronized, each beating at a rapid pace, and you want the moment to stretch on.

For the kiss to never end.

Thunder cracks in the air and the two of you pull apart, looking up at the darkened sky just as the rain begins to fall again.

Eddie looks back at you, his dimpled grin wide as the first drop hits his cheek, and you yelp as another drop cascades down your face.

He presses a quick kiss to your lips, enjoying your surprised gasp. The way you instantly melt into his touch.

“Will you please get in the fucking car now?” 

You nod rapidly, your hand slipping into Eddie’s warm palm. Allowing him to pull you towards his van and into the passenger seat.

-

< prev | next >

tag list: @sassidykassidy, @pretendthisnameisclever, @meiscoven, @emxxblog, @lanicolemn, @screechybeech, @niallerlover8022, @thebadbatchfan, @12thatsanumber, @kennedy-brooke

if you requested to be on the tag list but weren't notified it's either because I couldn't find your blog to verify your age or your age wasn't listed. feel free to send me a message :)

request to be added to tag list.

[angelicjackles]

— reckless heroine.

cw: fem!reader, best friend!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a smidge of fluff, injuries and blood descriptions — 2.2k a/n: this is the first time I've posted anything publicly in years so consider this a testing the waters fic, trying to find my groove and decide if i want to make this a regular thing.

summary: after a rough, but successful hunt, you and dean arrive back at the motel, only you were reckless and got injured, some duct tape patching up ensues from an angry dean.

The storm had arrived just as Dean and her pulled into the grimy parking lot of the Twin Pines Motel, how very Montana. The heavy raindrops pummeled against the windows like a stark warning. The sky rumbled with low growls, and flashes of jagged light illuminated the dim, rundown building. Inside their basic motel room, the air was thick with tension and the unmistakable smell of almost damp carpet—a cheerful welcome after a semi-successful hunt with a werewolf.

Dean slammed the creaky motel door shut behind them, the force alone almost enough to splinter the plaster around the hinges, his expression a maelstrom of anger and concern blended into one explosive temper as he flicked the lightswitch, the gross orange-ish glow of the overhead bulb highlighted the unsavoury nature of their accommodation. They’d come a long way from Kansas for this hunt.

Sam and Cas took off East together for a potential case, something something bizarre circumstances, frankly, there’d been little resistance offered when the duo took off to the east coast, leaving her and Dean to take Montana—although if they were real, they’d probably have taken anywhere over the east coast.

The door was barely closed for a moment before his gruff voice crackled through the air like a whip. “Did that brewing concussion knock all damn common sense out of your head?” Dean snapped angrily, his demandingly sharp voice rising above the impending storm. “You got a fucking death wish or something?”

She grimaced, carefully moving to sit on one of the twin beds, feeling the throbbing pain radiating from the gash on the back of her shoulder, the wound still steadily leaking blood, instinctively rubbing the spot on the back of your head that had collided with the concrete earlier in the night when he mentioned a concussion.

“Very funny,” she retorted in deadpan, infusing her tone with a touch of biting sarcasm that was quickly becoming a defence mechanism, and all but guaranteed to rile him up further. “The victim needed help, she was bleeding out and scared, and unlike you I actually gave a shit about more than ganking the mutt.” The implication that he didn’t care if the victim survived so long as they handled the werewolf wasn’t helping Dean’s mood, but the remorse she showed was negligible. “Besides, I handled it, didn’t I? And it worked—aren’t you always telling me ‘trust your instincts, your instincts are good’.” she added on before he had a chance to respond, putting an emphasis on the drawl of his voice. The mock only made that muscle in his jaw clench so hard it wouldn’t be a surprise if his teeth shattered. Heed the warning.

A growl bubbled in the back of his throat, but somehow he managed to keep it partially contained and tossed both his and her bags down onto the bed she hadn’t plopped down on. He may be pissed at her right now but that didn’t mean he was going to let his injured best friend carry her own bag. “Trust your instincts?” He gestured wildly with his hand, like that would somehow show just how worked up he was right now. She was getting to him, bad, and it was taking every ounce of willpower he was summoning from Chuck only knows where to stop from lashing out at her. “You were reckless and got yourself attacked in the process of playing heroine!” He rasped, his low voice reverberating off the thin motel walls with how loud his words escaped. 

Just for good measure he had to force his eyes elsewhere, just so he’d stop being faced with those claw marks on your shoulder, every glance at them made something in him coil and burn. Stomping towards the foot of the unoccupied bed, he aggressively unzipped his duffle bag and rummaged through it. Meanwhile she was busy shedding herself of the unnecessary clothing and gear, kicking her shoes off and abandoning them on the mysteriously patchy carpet next to the bed, unbuckling her belt and unlatching the clasp on the blade sheath on her hip, tossing both onto the lone chair off to the side of the beds.

Finally after a few long moments his fingers found the squished edges of the first-aid kit he’d grown used to keeping in there—the first-aid kit that only remained stocked up because she meticulously replenished what she, him and Sam went through after every hunt—Snagging it up, deft fingers were quick to unzip and flick through it haphazardly, plucking out several different medical supplies.

When he realised she hadn’t responded to his last few retorts, which was uncharacteristic for her, his eyes flickered back towards her, forest green eyes darkening at the blood leaking against her pale skin. “You put yourself in danger, again, and walked away with a souvenir I’m not too keen on.” He continued despite his better judgement, gesturing angrily at the deep werewolf claw marks on the back of your shoulder blade, having torn through her flannel and undershirt, soaking both in bright crimson and leaving her down to a base layer tank top.

The retort had her glancing over her shoulder, but able to see little more than the dark streaks of blood sticking to wet skin. The amount of blood she’d lost so far wasn’t enough to be life-threatening, but it was definitely a worrying situation that needed attention. God forbid the pair didn’t do their back-and-forth arguing before that though, not like she was bleeding out over here or anything. “You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed.” He grumbled, not so hotly as before, the edges of concern leaking into his voice. “These are gonna scar ugly...” The last part was more of an afterthought.

“More to add to the collection,” she mused out far too casually for the situation. “What did you ju—” He interjected, a warning hiss in his voice, but she was quick to wave a dismissive hand over her shoulder at him. “Forget it.” She brushed off, cutting off his warning remark.

‘It’s like she’s trying to piss me off,’ Dean thought to himself, and hell maybe she was. “For once, couldn’t you have followed the game plan, sweetheart? Fuckin’ hell…” His tone was a mixture of worried fondness and scolding terseness. Either way, she was quick to turn her entire body around on the bed to glare at him, ignoring the searing pain from her wound with the quick movement.

“Oh? Am I supposed to bow down to Dean Winchester’s expert advice? Follow orders blindly?” She shot back at him, a chilling kind of coolness to her voice. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure that’s your speciality,” she added, venomously, the tension in her voice masking the discomfort that coiled within her body.

And she could have sworn she saw him flinch as soon as the words tumbled out of her mouth, making a low simmering pit of guilt fester inside her, knowing she was out of line. Low blow. His gaze pained for a fleeting moment, pretty green eyes widening and mouth falling open the smallest amount like those words had quite literally taken the breath from his lungs; but it quickly hardened again as he stewed on those words, cracking open a bottle of antiseptic with more force than necessary. “Just— shut up, for once.” It was almost a plea, more of a pained demand, but she knew she’d hit a nerve. “Sit still and let me patch you up, okay? I may not be a doctor, but I can keep your ass from bleeding out.”

She rolled your eyes, watching as he pulled out a smorgasbord of supplies from the first-aid kit. “I’m perfectly capable of handling my own medical emergencies. This isn’t my first skirmish with fangs and claws, Dean. I don’t need your help,” her voice came out more snapped than intended.

Despite the fact they both knew the precocious positioning of this wound left her unable to attend to it herself, she’d have to be a pretty fine contortionist to deal with it without help. Dean opened his mouth to inform his best friend of just that but thought better of it in the final second, slowly his mouth slipped closed.

A frustrated grunt slipped past his lips and one hand racked impatiently through his short, messy locks. “Well, congratulations on surviving past encounters, but this looks like a crime scene,” he replied tersely before sighing in frustration, the adrenaline of the situation beginning to die. “—plus, you’re bleeding on my marginally clean bed,” he added on, in an attempt to diffuse the situation, which pulled a scoffed laugh from her mouth before it could be helped.

His tense shoulders dropped slightly in relief when she responded by gingerly peeling the fabric of her black tank top away from the wound, letting it slip down off her slender shoulder so he’d have access. 

The next fifteen minutes were deafeningly quiet, the only sounds were the soft pained noises that left her mouth, and the heavy breaths of concentration from Dean as he worked at disinfecting and patching up the wound on her shoulder as best as possible - Would this be easier to do in the bathroom instead of on the bed? Absolutely, but here they were.

Thankfully the wound didn’t need stitches, the claw marks the werewolf had left her with were nasty but not deep enough to be genuinely worrisome—not that it would stop Dean from worrying like a motherfucker. They’d leave some impressively disgusting scars, and hurt like a bitch for the next couple weeks as they healed, and as much as he was tempted to suggest going to the nearest a&e to get her properly seen to, just to be safe, he knew what her answer would be, so that wasn’t a battle he’d win. His basic hunter duct-taping would have to suffice.

The mood wasn’t great, both seething with worry and anger and pain that blended together into a chokingly intense thickness that lingered like smoke in the air, so it was in everyone’s best interests that they shut up.

“Done.”

Those words out of his mouth seemed to break the atmosphere and she slowly glanced back at him over her shoulder right in time for his thumbs to smooth out the medical tape that adhered the thick, white dressings to her pale skin, his touch extremely gentle despite everything, ensuring the tape wouldn’t come loose.

Turning on the bed so she was facing him as he remained stood up, her shoulders rolled back slowly, testing out the movement with the fresh patch up, it seemed to be healing. “How’s it looking, doc?” She quipped, her voice slightly lilted, making a weak attempt to lighten the mood up, too damn tired to argue further with him. His mouth quirked up in what could be described as a lazy grin. “Think you might just survive the night, thanks to the tireless effort of your handsome doctor.” He teased, only because he wanted to see her roll her eyes in that fondly affectionate way, and he got his wish.

The way she made a point to shake her head at him was all he needed to see to know that the sparky atmosphere had diminished; even though it was likely due to the adrenaline dying out and the pain kicking in.

His eyes followed her when she pushed herself to stand up, hands instinctively reaching out to steady her. “Mm, I don’t know, can’t say the bloody hands add to the sex appeal.” She hummed, eyes flicking down to his hands that were stained with her blood, hands that were now staining her arm in deep crimson too, her brows furrowing in distaste, but he didn’t seem in a rush to pull his hand back so she didn’t move to knock him off either. His gaze dropped to the offending hands in question, nose scrunching up at the sight of the blood as his thumb stroked against her elbow. “So… you’re saying I have sex appeal?” 

The tone of his voice in that moment was the most playful thing she’d heard from him in a long time. She couldn’t help but laugh, a real hearty ‘you’re such an idiot’ kind of laugh, the kind that had him grinning crookedly at her in return.

“Your ego needs no further stroking, I’m gonna plead the fifth on that one.” She held her hands up in mock surrender, which only rumbled an amused laugh from deep in his chest.

“That’s my girl.” Dean beamed, running his tongue over his teeth with a soft sigh. The adrenaline had long since faded and now he was left with that anxious worry and tired stress lingering in his body. “Fuck… C’mere, you,” he beckoned suddenly, barely giving her time to register his words before he was pulling her in against his chest, strong arms wrapping around her in such a delicate way, careful of her injuries while somehow managing to squish her into him. The height difference leaving the top of her head tucked perfectly underneath his chin as his fingers carted through her messy hair.

“Look... Call a truce, sweetheart?” The gruff hunter muttered into her hair, his arms cradling her close to his larger body. “Truce.” She conceded, placing a complacent kiss against his clothed shoulder, which earned a soft little rumbly hum from him.

The storm raged outside, but within the cramped motel room, a warmth had blossomed between the pair of them—a reminder that despite all the chaos of the job, it was them against the world and in this tempest, as the thunder rolled across the darkening horizon and the lightning split the sky, they both knew they’d face them together, side by side.

[goblinontour]

Alone, Together

cooking, eating, fucking

part 1

warnings: lawyer!alex, smut, just normal fucking, alex & his cocobolo (less this time, but still present)

word count: 7.2k

It was a rare occurrence that Alex was cooking. You perched on one of the bar stools at his island, watching him with an amused smile. The kitchen was immaculate, each appliance gleaming as if it had never seen anything but coffee and reheated takeout. Because, that was the reality. Today, though, there was something simmering in a pot that had your curiosity piqued.

“Is this a special occasion?” you called out, leaning back casually, arms crossed.

He glanced over his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips. “Nope…Maybe. Just thought I’d waste some time like a normal person.” he said, stirring the sauce with exaggerated motions. “Though honestly, I still think it’s a dumb idea.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You still think cooking is just a fancy way to waste time?”

He turned back to the pot, his shoulders relaxing as he stirred. “Exactly. Why spend an hour cooking just to spend another hour eating? I’d rather order in and only waste half of that time.”

“Right. You know, Alex, then you’re wasting someone else’s time cooking for you.” you pointed out. 

He chuckled, a warm sound that echoed in the space, and turned to you, eyebrow raised, as he set the spoon down momentarily. “But they’re getting paid for it, so it’s not wasting time. Simple economics, babe.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. “Only you would make that argument.”

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “And only you would let me win it.”

“Or it just means you’re being lazy.” you countered, tilting your head playfully.

“Lazy? I like to call it efficiency. Lazy or efficient, you decide.” He shot you a grin before returning to the pot, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Speaking of efficiency, how’s the case with, uh, Henderson was it? How’s that going? Any breakthroughs?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Not as much as I’d like. He’s being uncooperative, as usual. I swear he enjoys dragging things out just to test my patience.”

Alex nodded. “Sounds about right. You should hit him with a motion. It might scare him into cooperating.”

“Yeah, maybe.” you replied, leaning forward. “But I don’t want to show all my cards too soon. Plus, I might need to save that for when he really pisses me off.”

He laughed, the sound warm and rich. “Just don’t let him get under your skin. You know how I feel about letting clients dictate the pace.”

“Right, right.” you said, smirking. “I remember that time you told a client they were being ‘insufferable’ during a meeting.”

He feigned innocence. “I was merely being honest! He needed to hear it.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Honesty doesn’t always get you a good outcome.”

“Maybe not, but it does feel fucking good in the moment.” he winked, his eyes sparkling. 

As he continued, you felt a sudden impulse to be closer. You stood up and moved behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He paused mid-stir, humming softly at your touch, leaning back slightly against you.

“Hey there.” he murmured, a hint of surprise in his voice. He left the whisk in the pot, placing his hands on top of yours, rubbing over your knuckles with a gentle rhythm. “What’s going on?”

“Just wanted to be close to you while you do…whatever this is.” you said, resting your chin on his shoulder, feeling the warmth radiating from his body. 

He chuckled softly, glancing back at the sauce, steam curling up to meet his face. “It’s my attempt at culinary greatness. You know, a chef in the making.”

You snorted. “Sure, let’s go with that. I’ve seen you master a coffee maker, but cooking is a whole different level.”

He turned slightly, meeting your gaze with a teasing smile. “You underestimate my skills. I could be the next Iron Chef, is that what it’s called? Or, at the very least, I won’t set off the smoke alarm.”

You wrapped your arms a little tighter around him. “I have faith in you, sort of. What’s the secret ingredient, Chef?”

Alex glanced over his shoulder, a playful smirk on his face, his dark hair slightly tousled. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you, eh?” he quipped. “But it’s mostly just me hoping this doesn’t end up in the trash.” His expression turned slightly more serious as he leaned into your embrace. “So, are you gonna tell me what you wanted to share? Because I’m really hoping it’s what I think it is.”

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of your news settle in your stomach. “After dinner. I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

He sighed dramatically, though the twinkle in his eyes didn’t fade. “Fine, but you’re making me curious. It’s not like you to keep secrets.”

“Just focus on your culinary masterpiece.” you teased, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder before stepping back to let him work.

He turned back to the pot, a contented smile still on his lips as he continued stirring. “I can do that. But you know I’ll be expecting the details afterward.”

“Deal.” you said, settling back into your stool, anticipation bubbling beneath the surface as you watched him move about the kitchen, an unexpected domesticity woven into his actions. 

Dinner was over. Alex had just set his fork down with a soft clink against the plate. He wiped his chin and mouth with his hand, trying to catch the little specks of sauce that clung to the stubble along his jaw. The sauce had smudged slightly, and the way his lips quirked up made it clear he didn’t care about perfection. Just getting the job done.

You were still finishing the last bite of his extremely mediocre spaghetti. Spaghetti you appreciated nonetheless, more for the effort than the execution. He wasn’t even pretending to wait for you to finish. His eyes were already on you, full of expectation, his fingers drumming lightly on the table.

You sighed, glancing up at him. “What?”

“Tell me.” he said, his voice soft but eager, as if he’d been holding back for the past half-hour and was finally letting it spill out.

You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head with a half-smile. “My god, Turner, you’re like a child.”

“Come onnn.” he groaned, leaning forward a bit, his elbows resting on the edge of the table. “Please, tell me, tell me, tell me-”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll tell you.” you interrupted, laughing as you set your fork down in the almost-empty plate, still dotted with remnants of sauce. “Impatient as ever, I see.”

He grinned sheepishly, leaning back again in his chair, fingers still fidgeting with the edge of his napkin. His foot tapped lightly under the table, like he could barely contain himself.

“So,” you started, taking a breath, “about the firm-”

“Our firm?” he cut you off instantly, eyes bright with excitement.

“Yeah, our firm…” You paused for a moment, letting the words settle in the air between you. He was watching you so closely now, his brows furrowing just a little as if trying to anticipate what you were going to say next. 

You exhaled slowly, trying to find the right way to put it. “So, I was thinking…what if it wasn’t ‘us’ but…‘you’ and ‘me’?”

His smile faltered for just a second, and he blinked, processing. “Go on.” he said, though there was a slight tightness in his voice, like he wasn’t sure where you were going.

“We find an office together.” you continued, choosing your words carefully, watching the way his fingers stilled on the napkin, his eyes fixed on yours. “We share rent, expenses, everything. But…I am me, attorney at law, and you are you, Alex Turner, attorney at law. Both free to practise as we see fit.”

His mouth twitched at the corners as he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table, narrowing his eyes just a little, like he was trying to see the full picture. “Separate firms…under one roof?” he said slowly, tilting his head, brow furrowed.

“Yeah.” you nodded, gaining a bit of momentum. “Why not share a ride? You do things your way, and I do them mine. Not partners, exactly…”

“Solo practitioners…together.” he completed, his voice quiet, almost like he was speaking the idea into existence. He sat back again, running his fingers through his hair, ruffling it more. His lips parted, and for a moment he didn’t say anything, just stared at you with a half-lost expression, as if trying to see all the angles of this new idea you were offering him.

You bit your lip, waiting, your heart hammering just a little. “What do you think?” you asked softly, not sure how he would take it.

He stared at the table for a moment, his fingers drumming lightly again, then he exhaled a long breath. “I, uh-” He paused, looking up at you with a bit of that boyish uncertainty you didn’t see often. “I mean…yeah, I think it could work. I really do. But…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“But?” you echoed, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach.

“I guess I always pictured us doing it together. Like, actually together, as partners. Officially. You know, Turner &…” He waved his hand in the air, as if searching for the name that belonged next to his. “I like the idea of having you with me.”

His eyes softened, that vulnerability creeping back in as he let his hand drop to his lap. He shifted slightly in his seat, his leg bouncing under the table in a nervous rhythm. 

“Look…” you said, leaning in, trying to ease the weight you could see settling in his features. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you. I do. But I also want to be…me, you know? You run things your way, and I need to run things mine. No compromises. It doesn’t mean I don’t want us to be-” You stumbled, feeling the weight of what you were saying. “I mean, this way, we still have each other. We still share everything.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping for a second before finding yours again, that intensity returning. “Yeah, no, I get it. Really, I do. You just want-” He scratched his jaw, “You just want your space to work how you need to work. And we’d still be in the same place, so…yeah.”

You exhaled, relieved to see him processing, though the uncertainty still hung between you. “Exactly. We’d still be together. Just…independent too.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Leave it to you to make independence sound romantic.”

You smiled, the tension starting to ease from your shoulders. “Well, it kind of is, isn’t it?”

He raised his eyebrows, looking at you with a glimmer of amusement. “Okay, fine. I see the appeal. Solo practitioners together.” His eyes flickered to yours again, more sure this time. “I can live with that.”

You smiled, letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. “Good. Because I really think this could work for us.”

He pushed his chair back slightly, standing up and moving around the table toward you. As he approached, he bent down, his hand resting on the back of your chair as he brought his face closer to yours. “You know what? I think we’re gonna be just fine.” He kissed you lightly, his lips still tasting faintly of the spaghetti sauce, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“An A for effort for the meal by the way.” you teased, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes.

He grinned, his eyes warm and soft now, all traces of tension gone. “Next time, we order in.” He tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face, the flicker of excitement behind his eyes growing brighter. “Solo…together.” he repeated, testing the phrase out on his tongue like it was something new he hadn’t tasted before.

He took a step closer to you, his hands still on the back of your chair, but his voice was gaining momentum. “Solo together…That’s actually…perfect.” His eyes locked onto yours, lighting up with an energy you could feel sparking through the air between you.

You could practically see the wheels turning in his head, the idea catching fire. “No one stepping on anyone’s toes…” he continued, his voice rising in enthusiasm. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could get a word out, he grabbed your hand, pulling you up from the chair with surprising strength. “This is it!” He was grinning now, practically glowing, his excitement infectious as he tugged you toward him.

Before you knew it, you were up against him, your hands pressed against his chest. He didn’t stop there, though. In one swift movement, he lifted you up, his hands firm around your waist as he effortlessly placed you on the table. The cold surface under your thighs was a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating off him.

“Alex-” you started, a laugh escaping your lips, but he was already kissing you. His mouth crashed against yours, hungry, eager. You barely had time to process the intensity before he pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips.

“Solo…together.” he murmured between kisses, his hands now cupping your face as he pressed closer. “I love it.”

His breath was hot against your skin, each word punctuated by another kiss. You could feel the warmth of his stubble brushing your cheek as he moved from your lips to the side of your neck, his voice a low, breathless murmur. “We’d be our own bosses…No one telling us what to do…”

You gasped softly as his hands slid down your back, gripping you tighter, pulling you even closer to the edge of the table. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as his mouth found yours again.

“And-” another kiss, deeper this time, his hands roaming, the intensity between you building with every second, “we’d still get to come home to each other…Every single day.”

He pulled back just long enough to look into your eyes, his pupils dark, his face inches from yours, breathing hard. “Fuck, this is such a good idea.” His voice was rough, unrestrained. “No compromises, no pressure…but still together.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a breathless sound caught between the rapid beats of your heart. “I’m glad you like it.” you managed to get out, your voice shaky but full of warmth.

“Like it? I fucking love it.” he growled, his mouth finding yours again, more desperate now. His hands moved to your hips, gripping you firmly as he kissed you harder, his breath hot and ragged. 

You could feel the excitement vibrating through him, the way his body pressed against yours, each kiss deepening with the weight of his growing anticipation. “Solo practitioners…but always together.” he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with something close to awe, like he couldn’t believe how perfectly the idea fit.

The table creaked beneath you as he leaned into you, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt, fingers splayed against the small of your back. His kiss was urgent, full of need, like he couldn’t get enough of the idea, of you, of everything that was spilling out between you.

“We’re going to be unstoppable.” he whispered, his voice a low, husky rasp. “You…and me.”

Your head was spinning, your fingers digging into his shoulders, holding on as his kisses grew more fervent, more insistent. His hands roamed over your body, pulling you against him like he wanted to fuse you together. Every word he spoke between kisses buzzed with that same electric energy, his excitement fueling yours.

“We’re going to be so fucking good at this.” he said breathlessly, pulling back just enough to stare into your eyes. His gaze was intense, almost overwhelming in its rawness. “Just you and me…killing it, every single day.”

And before you could respond, his mouth was on yours again, his body pressed against you, leaving no space between you as his hands gripped your waist, lifting you slightly as if he was trying to get you closer, as if you weren’t already as close as you could be. 

Alex’s excitement grew like wildfire, his hands moving with purpose as he reached for the plates still scattered on the table. With a quick sweep, he pushed them to the side, the sound of ceramic sliding across the wood sharp in the air. You barely had time to react before he gently but firmly guided you down, your back hitting the surface of the table. His body hovered above you, his face inches from yours, eyes dark with hunger.

You felt the heat of him pressing against you, his hips grinding into your thigh, the hard outline of him unmistakable even through his clothes. His breath was ragged, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your neck as he groaned softly into you.

“You’re eager.” you managed to say. 

“You bet.” he whispered, a smile curling at the edge of his lips as he pressed his mouth to your neck, kissing his way down your body, even through the fabric of your shirt. His lips left a trail of heat as they moved lower. 

His hands slid over your hips, gripping you with a mix of tenderness and desperation, fingers brushing just under your shirt as he kissed his way further down your torso. His stubble grazed your skin as he paused at the hem of your jeans, his breath warm and steady against your stomach.

“Fuck- I wanna fuck you here.” he murmured, his voice thick with need. He pressed his face into your belly for a second, inhaling. “Can I fuck you here?” he asked, his voice low, rough, a plea that sounded more like a demand in its urgency. 

The question hung between you, his hands stilling on your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles against your skin as he waited for your answer, his eyes locked onto yours. His breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, his body tensed above you, ready to close the space between you in a heartbeat.

You swallowed, your breath catching in your throat as his gaze never wavered. “Yes.” you whispered, the word slipping out before you could second-guess it. 

His lips twitched into a grin, but it was hungry, almost feral. “God, you have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this.” he growled, kissing your stomach again, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands were already moving, deftly undoing the button of your jeans, tugging them down your hips with a quickness that made your breath hitch.

As your jeans hit the floor, he kissed lower, over the curve of your hip, his hands kneading the flesh there before he pressed himself harder against your leg. You could feel him, all of him. 

He hovered over you again, eyes locked on yours as he nudged your legs apart with his knee. The friction between your bodies was maddening, and you could feel his impatience in every twitch of his muscles, every shallow breath. “I’ve wanted you like this, right here, all night. Now I'm just waiting until I’ll get you on my desk…in our office.” he whispered against your ear, his voice a low, hoarse rasp as he kissed along your jaw, his body pressed into yours so firmly you could barely breathe.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Your cocobolo?” you asked, the absurdity of him obsessing over his desk even now making you bite your lip.

He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, his expression full of dark amusement, a cocky grin spreading across his flushed face. “That’s right.” he murmured, his voice a low, sultry growl as he leaned closer, his mouth brushing yours with every word. “Fucking on my fucking cocobolo.”

The way he said it made you laugh softly, but before the sound could fully escape, he giggled, too, vibrating against your lips. It was that kind of infectious, unguarded laugh that made your chest warm, the kind of laugh that only Alex could pull off mid-seduction, somehow. 

His hands roamed over your body, tugging your shirt higher, fingers brushing your skin, sending sparks wherever he touched. He pulled back, just for a moment, his eyes flicking down your body, taking in every inch of you laid out beneath him. “Look at you…” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice low and reverent. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Without waiting, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he tugged it gently, making you gasp. His fingers slid down your sides, hooking under your underwear, dragging them down as he pushed you further back on the table, the edge digging into your back but you barely noticed, too focused on the way he was looking at you. 

His hands were on your thighs, spreading them further open, his mouth back on your neck, murmuring into your skin. “I need to feel you.” he whispered, his breath hot and ragged against your ear as he rubbed himself against you, his erection pressing hard into your thigh through his pants. “I need to be inside you…right now.”

His desperation was palpable, but there was something tender in the way his hands gripped you, in the way he kissed your collarbone. Alex’s breath came out in sharp, ragged gasps as his hands fumbled with his zipper, the sound of it cutting through the heavy tension between you. His eyes never left yours, as he freed himself, his cock hard and straining in his hand. There was no hesitation, no teasing now. Just pure urgency.

He pushed your legs further apart, the rough edge of the table biting into your skin as he positioned himself between your thighs. And then, he was inside you. The force of it knocked the air from your lungs, his cock filling you completely, stretching you in a way that sent a jolt of pleasure-pain through you. You gasped, hands flying to grip the edge of the table as it wobbled beneath you, creaking under the weight of his movements.

He didn’t hold back. His hips snapped forward, driving himself deeper into you, fast and rough, his breath coming out in sharp, uneven pants. The table shook beneath you with every thrust, the sound of it scraping against the floor barely audible over the wet sounds of your bodies colliding, over the ragged groans that escaped him every time he buried himself inside you.

“Fuck-” he groaned through clenched teeth, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you could feel the bruises forming. His pace was relentless, his cock slamming into you over and over. “You always feel so good…so fucking tight.”

You couldn’t form words, couldn’t do anything but hold on as he pounded into you. His eyes were wild, locked on yours as he watched your every reaction, his mouth falling open in a breathless groan each time you clenched around him.

The table rocked beneath you, on and on, the legs threatening to give way, but neither of you cared. It only spurred him on, made him thrust harder, deeper, his hips grinding into you with a roughness that bordered on desperate.

His hands roamed over your body, one sliding up to grip the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him as his mouth crashed against yours in a brutal, hungry kiss. His tongue was hot and demanding, his teeth scraping your lips as he kissed you like he was trying to consume you entirely.

The pace was maddening, his hips never faltering, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, making your body tremble beneath him. 

“Alex-” you managed to gasp out, your voice barely more than a breath, but he cut you off with another hard thrust, a groan escaping him as he felt you tighten around him.

“I know-” he breathed against your ear, his voice rough, barely holding back. “I know, baby…I’m close too.” His movements became more frantic, more desperate, his body trembling as he drove into you, pushing you both closer to the brink.

Any control he might’ve had moments ago slipped. His hands were everywhere. Gripping your thighs, pressing into your hips, sliding up your sides. He needed to feel every part of you, to hold you closer. 

“Fuck.” he groaned, his voice a low rasp as he buried himself deep inside you again, harder and faster. He was losing it, his rhythm faltering as he got lost in the sensation, in the heat of you around him.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the way his cock stretched you with every ragged, unsteady thrust. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin as he cursed under his breath. 

You could feel him trembling, his body straining as he teetered on the edge, each thrust messier than the last. His mouth found yours again, a desperate, sloppy kiss that was all tongue and teeth. The heat between you was unbearable now, overwhelming. 

“Fuck, baby...I’m gonna come.” he groaned, his voice breaking as he thrust into you hard, hips slamming into yours with a final, urgent rhythm. His body tensed above you, his breath catching in his throat as he lost himself in the overwhelming sensation. His body shook with the force of it, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he spilled into you, warmth flooding between your legs as he gasped against your skin.

For a moment, it was just him, messy, overwhelmed, trembling above you as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, his cock still pulsing inside you. His breath came in heavy, ragged bursts, his forehead resting against yours as he slowly came down, his body pressed against yours in the most intimate way. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

“That…” he whispered, barely able to form the word as he nuzzled his face into your neck. “That was…Jesus, that was…” He trailed off, too overwhelmed to finish the thought, his body still draped over yours, warm and heavy, but instead of slowing down, he rolled his hips again, a slow, deliberate thrust that made you gasp. He didn’t stop.

You could feel him still hard inside you, the slick heat of him moving against your sensitive walls as he resumed his rhythm, slower at first, but with that same intensity building all over again. 

“You didn’t come yet.” he whispered. His lips grazed your ear as he spoke, his hips bucking into you again. “I’m not stopping until you do.”

You moaned softly in response as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more insistent. The table beneath you creaked again, the wood groaning under the pressure of his movements, but all you could focus on was him, the way he felt inside you, the steady, relentless rhythm of his hips, pushing you closer to that edge.

His fingers slid up your sides, brushing under your shirt to find the bare skin of your waist, gripping tightly as his mouth found yours again. 

“I love you.” he groaned into your mouth, his voice hoarse as he pushed deeper, the sound of his cock sliding in and out of you loud and wet in the small space between your bodies. “So much.”

Your hands flew to his hair, nails digging into his scalp as your body arched against his, a moan spilling from your lips as you felt the tension coil tighter inside you.

Alex was laser-focused on you, his cock pounding into you harder with each passing second. “Come on, baby.” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he thrust deep, grinding into you just right. “Let go. I want to feel you come…Please.”

That was all it took. The pleasure that had been building finally snapped, your body tensing beneath him as the orgasm ripped through you. Your muscles clenched tight around him, a cry breaking from your throat. 

Alex groaned at the feeling of you tightening around him, his grip on your hips tightening as he slowed his thrusts, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm. “There you go…” he breathed and he kissed you softly. “That’s my girl.” he murmured against your lips. 

He stayed there, buried deep inside you, still hard, his hips barely moving in slow, lazy circles. He groaned softly, but you could sense something building again, the tension in his body still present, still tight. His fingers dug into your hips just a little harder, his breath hitching, and without warning, his hips jerked forward, instinct taking over as he thrust deep again, making you gasp.

“Shit-” he muttered, his voice shaky, almost surprised. He didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, his body reacting on its own, still desperate for more. You could feel it too, the way his cock twitched inside you, his muscles tightening, and you knew he was close again. 

“Oh- oh god…” he gasped, his voice catching as he thrust into you hard, the pleasure building too fast, overwhelming him. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder. His entire body tensed, a ragged groan tearing from his throat as he came again, barely able to process it, barely able to hold back. His release hit him fast and hard, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled into you once more. 

“Oh-” he groaned, his voice breaking as his hips bucked one last time, his body shaking as the second wave of pleasure crashed through him, leaving him breathless and overwhelmed. 

He stayed like that for a moment, completely still at last, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his cock still twitching inside you as the last of his release emptied into you. His fingers were trembling, his muscles slack as the intensity of it all finally hit him.

“Fuck...I didn’t-” he started, his voice cracking before he could finish the thought. His chest was still heaving as he looked at you, the dazed, wide-eyed look on his face betraying just how overwhelmed he was. Slowly, a lazy grin began to spread across his lips, like he was finally processing everything. “I didn’t think I’d...come like that again.” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “You…you’ve got me all kinds of messed up.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, your own breathing still unsteady. “Oh yeah?” you teased, your voice still breathless but playful, a little proud even. “Didn’t think you had another one in you?”

His grin turned more wicked and he opened his mouth to say something more, but before he could, you clenched around him reflexively, your body still sensitive. The reaction shot through him like electricity. He tensed, his whole body going rigid, and a groan slipped from his throat as he closed his eyes and his hands clutched the edge of the table, unable to take any more.

“Shit- don’t…I can’t.” he gasped, his voice trembling. “I can’t take any more.” He pulled out quickly, wincing as he did, his legs unsteady. “Not again...you’ll break me…I’ll die.”

You chuckled softly, a shiver running through you at the sudden loss of him, but the sight of him stumbling back from the table, almost collapsing, was too good. He looked utterly spent, but there was something ridiculously cute about it.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” you teased, smirking as you shifted on the table, watching him try to steady himself.

Alex shot you a half-hearted glare, though his smile was still there. “You keep doing that, and you’ll have to carry me out of this room.” he muttered as he staggered toward the nearest chair. He grabbed it, dragging it over with a dramatic sigh and practically collapsing into it with a groan. “I swear, I was two seconds away from my knees giving out.”

You laughed, still lying on the table, legs trembling slightly as the last waves of pleasure still lingered. “My poor, poor man.” you teased, throwing him a mock pout. “The table wasn’t so bad though, was it?”

Alex leaned back in the chair, still catching his breath, and gave you a lazy grin. “Oh, no complaints.” he said. “I mean, it was touch-and-go there for a second, but I think the table and I made it through.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your head fall back against the table, and let out a sigh of contentment. “Good to know I wasn’t the only one doing all the work.”

He shot you a playful look. “Oh, come on, give me some credit. I’d say I held my own pretty well. My knees would disagree, but they’re quitters.”

“You’re the one who wanted to fuck here.”

“Fair point.” he replied. As he sat, his hands absentmindedly reached down to tuck himself back into his pants, his fingers moving with a casual ease despite how shaky he still was. Once he’d zipped up his pants, he groaned, shifting in the chair as though trying to get comfortable.

Without a word, he reached for the buttons on his shirt, popping each one open slowly, his chest still rising and falling with every deep breath. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and pulled it to the sides, letting the cool air hit his skin as he leaned back. 

“Much better.” he muttered to himself, his head rolling to the side to glance at you. His chest glistened slightly with sweat, his skin flushed, and his breathing was still a bit unsteady as he sat there, letting the shirt hang loose on his arms like he’d given up entirely on any formality. 

“Cooling off?” you teased. 

He chuckled, eyes half-lidded. “Trying to. You’re too damn good at making things…hot. God…I’m wrecked.” he muttered, half to himself.

You snorted, your whole body feeling warm from the banter. “Next time, maybe pick a less risky location, Mr. Turner.”

He laughed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and shaking his head. “No way. The danger’s part of the fun.”

You laid there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “You know,” you said, voice still a little hoarse, “You’re dripping from me all over your floor now.”

Alex looked at you, dazed but amused, his eyebrows raising slightly as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “That’s fine.” he replied, waving his hand dismissively as if it was the least of his worries. “The floor’s seen worse.”

“Worse than this?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.

“Oh definitely…absolutely.” he replied, sitting up slightly as he looked at you with mock seriousness. “I’ve dropped coffee, spilled stuff...once I even dropped a whole sandwich, oh- and, you won’t believe this one, one time I kicked over a glass of wine trying to catch a football. You’re just adding to the legacy.”

“Okay.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Glad to know I’m in such good company.” you said with a chuckle, too exhausted to argue, and shifted slightly, your body still feeling heavy from everything. 

The mess of the moment didn’t seem to matter as much as the calm after the storm, both of you still caught in that lingering post-high. 

“You know, as much as I’d love to keep chatting about your floor’s sordid history I-”

“I need a shower.” he interrupted, his voice rough, like it took every bit of energy to speak, as if even just that required effort.

“Yeah, that. Me too.” you echoed softly, still not moving from the table, your limbs too relaxed to even think about standing yet. You both stayed like that for a few more seconds. “Come on, get up.” you said, finally mustering the energy to sit up on the table, your legs still feeling shaky. “If you’re going to shower, you need to move.”

Alex was glued to you like a second skin. His damp hair, still slightly mussed, was pressed against your shoulder as he half-draped himself over you. He wrapped one arm around your waist, fingers absently tracing the curve of your hip as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck, so close you could feel the soft puffs of his breath. 

“Tired?” you asked, running your fingers lazily through his hair.

He let out a low hum, not bothering to lift his head. “Maybe, a bit.” he mumbled into your neck. “I just like you like this.”

“Like what? Barely able to move under the weight of your body?” you joked, but the affection in your voice softened the words.

“Exactly.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “Just want to be close to you...Is that a crime, counsellor?”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Not yet. But you’re on thin ice.”

Alex chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your shoulder. “Noted. Guess I’ll have to be careful. Wouldn’t want to be thrown out of bed for being too affectionate.”

“Who said anything about throwing you out?” you teased, shifting slightly but not making any real effort to dislodge him. “I’m too comfortable to move.”

“Good.” he sighed, his body relaxing even more into yours. “I’m not going anywhere anyway. You’re stuck with me like this now.”

“I can deal with that. It’s kinda nice, actually.”

“Nice?” he muttered, half asleep but still stubborn enough to keep the conversation going. “Just nice?”

“Alright, fine.” you admitted with a smile. “More than nice. But don’t let it go to your head.”

He grinned lazily against your neck. “Too late.”

For a moment, the two of you just lay there, his body practically draped over yours. It was peaceful, the kind of quiet that didn’t need to be filled, but Alex, in true form, couldn’t resist.

“Did you know,” he began, his voice low and thoughtful, “that penguins propose by giving their mate a pebble?”

You snorted, caught off guard. “What? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” he replied, lifting his head slightly to look at you with an exaggeratedly solemn expression. “They find the perfect pebble, you know? And they give it to the penguin they want to mate with. It’s very romantic.”

You laughed softly. “Why do you know this?”

He shrugged, settling his head back down on your shoulder. “I don’t know, I think I saw it on some nature documentary. Thought it was cute.”

“So what, are you planning on proposing to me with a rock you find on the sidewalk?” you teased, running your hand absently through his hair again.

Alex chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. “Maybe. If I find a really good one, you never know.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’d prefer something a little more...you know, traditional.”

“It's sorted then.” he said, his voice low and sleepy again. “No sidewalk rocks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

There was a beat of comfortable silence again, the two of you just enjoying the feeling of being close, the steady rise and fall of his chest pressed against yours. His fingers resumed their lazy tracing over your hip. You felt that familiar warmth flood through you, feeling his quiet need for affection, and you turned your head slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of his still-damp hair. “I love you too, you know.” you murmured softly. 

Alex hummed, pressing his face even closer to your neck, like he was trying to burrow into you. “I know…” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

You paused, frowning a little as you tilted your head to glance down at him. “Thank you?” you repeated, your brow furrowing in confusion. “Why are you thanking me for that?”

He shifted a bit but didn’t move far, his face still pressed against you. “Hmm?” he murmured, clearly not understanding your question at first.

Even though he couldn’t see it, you smiled, brushing a few strands of hair away from his forehead. “Why are you thanking me for loving you?” you asked again. “That’s not exactly something you need to say ‘thanks’ for.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you could feel him thinking, his fingers pausing their gentle movements on your skin as if he was trying to find the right words or come up with a good reason. But then he sighed, his breath warm against your skin, and you could almost feel the smile on his lips.

 “I don’t know.” he admitted quietly. “I just…yeah, I don’t know.”

You let out a quiet laugh, not mocking, just amused by how endearing he was when he got like this. “You don’t have to thank me, Alex. I love you because I do. It’s not a favour.”

He finally lifted his head slightly, just enough so that he could glance up at you with those sleepy, half-lidded eyes of his. There was something so soft about the way he looked at you right then. “I know.” he said softly, his voice a little raw. “But still…thank you.”

You gave him a look. “You’re ridiculous.” you whispered, reaching up to brush your thumb along his cheek. “But I love you, ridiculous and all.”

He smiled, that boyish grin that always managed to make your heart skip creeping across his face. “I’m just…I don’t know. Grateful, I guess.” he murmured, fingers resuming their soft tracing along your hip. “You put up with all of my bullshit. I get clingy, I say weird stuff, and you’re still here.”

You rolled your eyes but your heart was melting a little. “I’m here because I love you, not in spite of all that. Those are the things I like about you.” you said, your tone soft but teasing. “Even the weird penguin trivia.”

“Even that?” he asked, lifting his head more to look at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

You nodded, grinning. “Especially that.”

His smile widened, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’m really lucky, you know,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, “To have you.”

“You’re getting too sappy on me, Turner.” though there was no denying the warmth in your chest. “But...yeah. I’m lucky too.”

He laughed softly, pressing another kiss to your temple before settling back down, his head resting on your shoulder again. “Okay, okay. No more sap. Just...let me be like this for a while.” he muttered, his body curling back into yours. 

“Stay as long as you want.” you whispered, your fingers trailing up and down his back in slow, soothing motions.

“You’re so stuck with me.” he mumbled, already half-asleep again, his breath evening out against your skin. 

“Yeah, you’re basically a human blanket right now.”

“Mmm, sounds about right.” he muttered, his voice fading into a drowsy murmur. He snuggled closer, if that was even possible. “I could stay like this forever…just you and me.”

“Me too.” you whispered. “Now sleep, Turner. I’m not going anywhere.”

a/n: i love him. (yet another version of alex i made up and became obsessed with)

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[dootznbootz]

As someone who is also really uncomfortable with the Zeus/Odysseus art trend, I completely understand where your coming from!

People’s treatment of Odysseus’s assaults in general makes me really upset. Just the other day I saw a comment on a post saying that “Odysseus wasn’t loyal to his wife yet expects her to be loyal to him” and not once in the replies did I see someone mention that he was literally assaulted. It’s absolutely gross and makes me hesitant to go deeper into the fandom.

I remember being so frustrated when the snippets of “There are Other Ways” came out because so many people were making Hamilton jokes and talking about how he always talks about his wife yet cheated. When in the song it was so clear he was being coerced which is yknow, not a form of consent. I couldn’t even listen to it because it made me so uncomfortable, and even now with the full version out the fandoms reaction to it overall have soured me to it. Which sucks, because I do think it’s a great song.

Also I don’t even think Epic completely erases Calypso’s assault? At least, I think it’s left ambiguous enough during the time jump that people can come to their own conclusions. Specifically when Calypso says “Soon into bed we’ll climb and spend our time” just really gives me the impression that something else happened.

I suppose in the snippets we’ve seen of “I’m Not Sorry For Loving You” it seems like Odysseus and Calypso are on slightly friendlier terms, but I don’t think that negates the fact she could’ve assaulted him. And I’ve always took that song as pretty manipulative on Calypso’s side, with Odysseus more so trying to placate her. But that’s going into theory territory.

And even if he isn’t SA’d in Epic it’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to be there!! Same with Homer’s Odyssey. It’s so infuriating to see the cheating narrative be so widely spread when that is just not what happened.

Anyway’s sorry for the long rant, but I wanted to say that it’s nice to see you take Odysseus’s SA seriously. It’s not something the fandom does enough.

It's okay for the long rant. Sorry I took a bit to get to it but I wanted some "soft chatters" for a bit before I tackled this one :)

"Just the other day I saw a comment on a post saying that “Odysseus wasn’t loyal to his wife yet expects her to be loyal to him” and not once in the replies did I see someone mention that he was literally assaulted. It’s absolutely gross and makes me hesitant to go deeper into the fandom."

I completely understand you with this stuff. ;~; I used to go through Odyssey tags often as I LOVE possibly finding new people to follow and fun things but too many times I would see shit that pissed me off. ;~; I've honestly kind of just stuck to my mutuals that I trust tbh. And honestly, there's soooo much shit of people just straight up not understanding the context/culture/meaning/etc. of the Epics and just taking it at face value and not understanding the meanings. :/ I'm no expert, but I also have analyzed and researched quite a bit on my own to try and get the full picture. I think in order to truly enjoy the Odyssey, you need to just... really soak shit in, you know?

When Calypso, that lovely goddess,  tried                           to keep me with her in her hollow cave, longing for me to become her husband,                                  or when, in the same way, the cunning witch Aeaean Circe held me in her home filled with a keen desire I’d marry her, they never won the heart here in my chest.

(Book 9, Johnston)

Odysseus tells this to the Phaecians. They are strangers that he will likely never see again and who are isolationists. Therefore his story that he told probably won't be "spread" to others so he can probably say whatever. So he doesn't have to worry about "Penelope hearing a different story than the one he told to her" if people wanna argue about how "Oh well, he didn't tell Penelope about the 'affairs'"(He tells her everything as well btw.)

He could literally say "Oh yeah, I had the time of my life!" but he doesn't because that's not true. Odysseus has no listed concubines, I just literally don't see him as the type of guy who's really into that.

And while yes, he would be devastated if she didn't "stay loyal", he does sound like he'd be understanding. He asks his mother in the Underworld if Penelope had gotten remarried to "the finest of Achaeans". And we all know of Odysseus' words of "when Telemachus has a beard, feel free to remarry". Even when first "rejected" by Penelope in that she didn't hug him when he sat across from her, he was incredibly hurt but asked for a separate bed. He literally could have had it where Penelope takes a different bed and he takes their luxurious/fancy one because he has the rest of the household on his side.

But he DOESN'T!

Because he adores her for fuck's sake!

Funny enough? I have the weird reaction of like, weirdly searching out "Good" animatics as it was a weird reassurance of "yes, people see that it's wrong." as while holy fuck. so many stupid, awful jokes about "Say No to This" in the comments (I have learned to just stay the fuck away from youtube comments on Odysseus shit. :') ) but like, seeing and HEARING how yes, this was fucked, was weirdly really nice for me. yeah, it took a lot of digging but there's a few "There Are Other Ways" that I love. Literally, both are unfinished wips and they're still my favorites. If you can, please give these two a watch and some love for the creator.

This was back before we heard the full song and it's still very good. How he's on guard until she "magics" him and the colors change. After that he kind of moves like a "puppet" but he's still resisting as best he can.

This one is literally still sketches but it's my absolute favorite. Oh my word. The body language, PENELOPE FLASHBACKS!!! Showing cute bits of Penelope's character and how awful this is for him. (Penelope is so cute. She puffs up her cheeks to make him laugh!) How he really is scared that he'll have to go through with this in order to save his friends until all his past trauma floods back and he just can't. It's lovely.

And yeah Idk how to feel about "I'm Not Sorry For Loving You" :/ I don't know how it'll be yet, maybe there's something in another song that shows Odysseus' real feelings or whatever.

And with just the whole cheating thing, yeah, it's really upsetting to call what is blatant assault "cheating". As wild as it sounds, Odysseus' story has been more relatable for me than any other stories like this, even modern ones. I've spoken a bit about it before but yeh, victim blaming at its finest. I find him and his story and his love for Penelope slkdfj very relatable. It's honestly really nice to write about in a sense..

(I'm pasting this from an old post of mine but yeh)

I have never had a story that felt like how it actually FEELS. The "aftermath" and "regaining life". It's hopeful and feels really good. It's been years since "everything" but it just felt nice to see "Everybody has the chance to get better." Even Nestor, Helen, and Menelaus, while still dealing with their traumas, are doing a lot better now. And after literal hell, Odysseus got to be with his family and loved ones again. He can start living again. It's why I'm just...idk passionate about this? I'm not a murderer or a war veteran but I see myself in him. Hopefully, y'all see me as nicer though!😂(plus, let's be honest, the Odyssey is romantic af and OdyPen is right up my alley as well >:D )

I really hate the whole "he's a guy so therefore ____" whether it's used as a "Boys will be boys. they can't help themselves" usually aimed at female victims or a "Men always want sex. they cannot be victims.". It's fucked up and used against ALL of us. :( Doesn't matter if it was history. People, no matter the era, should never be put through "Are you Victim™ enough?". He is one.

Idk the Odyssey means a lot to me. I hope it's okay I take some liberties with my fanfics as it's nice healing through him :D I AM kind of using my own experiences and ideas and it feels nice. I don't think Homer necessarily meant for this but eh, anything that helps is good :D He's a war criminal that I relate to.

[a-swamp-creature]

goddamn like….

there was an extremely sus “bridgerton ball” held downtown this last weekend that turned out to be a dashcon-level scam. probably couldve guessed that from the ads/website being littered w spelling errors, but anyway…listing a few of the things i know of:

-it was supposed to happen last month but the organizers (Uncle & Me Events) sold 1500 tickets for a venue w a max capacity of 450. Venue cancelled, of course. Organizers sent out one (1) email two days before the thing was supposed to happen. A lot of ppl didn’t even see the email so people were showing up to an empty venue in downtown Detroit wearing regency-era ballgowns. Security apparently told some of them that the event was a scam but idk how true that is. Anyway it was rescheduled at a new venue for a month later.

-valet parking was promised, not delivered. parking downtown is a pain in the ass in general but these people were also wearing ballgowns lmao

-nobody checking tickets at the door. there was a tiered pricing scale for tickets starting at $100 and going up to $1000 (a fool and his fukkin money i s2g) so all these ppl from the suburbs who paid hundreds/THOUSANDS of dollars to be treated like VIPs were pissed

-because nobody was checking tickets, people were just kind of wandering in off the street lmaaaaoooo so ppl were just kind of milling around in normal clothes eating the buffet, which leads me to…

-the food was bad: pasta w marinara, canned green beans, meatballs, and undercooked/raw chicken wings. people were expecting a sit down meal apparently? but I think that might just be the expectations of ppl more accustomed to tea parties than actual large scale events - ain’t no way they were ever going to do full-service dinner for 1500 people. it was always going to be a buffet.

-NO ALCOHOL lmaaaoooo the event info said open bar, there wasn’t even a cash bar. no shit, they had water and “mocktails”. check out the menu:

ITS ALL LEMONADE LMAAAOOOO but wait!!! ppl who bought VIP tickets also got hawaiian punch !!!

-see the tablecloth in that pic? the decorations were bad. like dollar store bad.

-they were supposed to have a bunch of different activities: dance lessons, costume contests, carriage rides. neither of the first two happened. the carriage rides did, but you had to pay extra and they only did them for three hours. again, 1500 people.

-that’s not to say there was no entertainment. they had a dj playing pretty standard birthday party dj fare: the hustle, cha cha slide. he also played hiphop which really upset a lot of the ppl larping as wealthy colonizers for SOME reason 🤔 disclaimer: i assume they were expecting classical music but a looooot of people specifically complained about the hiphop

- oh there was also a single exotic dancer stationed in the middle of an empty room. i am not joking. im not in the business of posting photos of strangers but the photos are out there and they’re tragic. this poor woman just took a gig and ended up with a bunch of middle class pearl clutchers complaining abt her on fb. that being said, my understanding is bridgerton is smut for ppl who want to pretend they’re above watching porn so idg why a dancer is such a big fucking deal, just sit down and watch ffs. oh wait-

-there was nowhere to sit lmao

-and no refunds

seems pretty clear that after overselling and losing the first venue, the organizers lost all their vendor contracts and had to scramble to have anything at all. could’ve just cancelled. btw the no refunds thing included if it was cancelled - they’ll just credit you for the next event lol

now listen. i do feel bad. I don’t think anyone deserved this really. I DO find it very funny that a bunch of of ppl who can afford $1000 tickets to dress up in expensive costumes and pretend to be aristocrats got scammed big time by Detroit.