#about that beer i owed ya!

[mellohd]

@no0t2 i drew your photo

original post here

alternate versions cause i couldn't pic how i wanted to render his face

[im-not-a-sheep]

crying sobbinf.. hnrnhguhgh barneyyy

[cyberkaban]

Rise and shine,Mr. Park

Rise and shine...

Not that I wish to imply that you have been sleeping on the job. No one is more deserving of a rest, and all the effort of Murkoff would have gone to waste until...

Well... Lets just say your hour has come again.

The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world.

So, wake up Mr. Park.

Wake up and... Smell the ashes.

[pixelatepunk]

About That Beer I Owed Ya, Excuse Me, Who Are You?

[blacktobackmesa]

Now...

About that beer I owed ya!

[haztory]

['sex' by the 1975]

⤷ atsumu miya x f!reader; best friends, references to infidelity, pining, sexual content (w.c 3.1k)

“it’s not sex.” he insists between mouthfuls. a drop of mustard dots the corner of his mouth. you stare incredulously.

“are you joking?” you ask. atsumu just shrugs his shoulder, intense focus saved for the burger held in his hands. practically inhaling a third of it in one bite as he brings it up to his mouth.

“‘s not like it’s the real thing.” he bobs his head side to side in consideration of the sandwich before he’s grabbing at the fries in your lap, “can i haf some.”

the carton lays practically emptied from his pilfering next to your abandoned chicken nuggets. three remaining, absent of consumption in favor of a bewildered stare at the man seated beside you on his bed. 

“fingering is penetration, that’s sex.” you say simply.

atsumu raises a brow, “yer gyno having sex with ya?”

“that’s different.” you level a stare at him, one that’s serious and fierce and that communicates everything you mean in the single look alone. he meets it with one of his own, familiarity and uncommunicated languages all the rage between the two of you. “she doesn't make me cum.”

“neither does yer boyfriend.” he shrugs, taking another large bite of his burger as you screech in offense. your hand meets his bicep with a sharp slap and he grabs at it in pain. “ow! ya were the one that told me that!”

”some people take a minute to figure it out.”

”sounds like its taking a lot longer than a minute.” he mutters to himself. “look, its a lost cause. just dump the guy before it gets anywhere. ya haven’t had sex yet, he’s got a weird face, dude cant tell a fake orgasm from a real one. why are ya fighting me on this?”

“fingering is sex! your body count would be zero if fingering didnt count.” you insist loudly and atsumu rolls his eyes. he crumples the foil his burger came in and throws it across the room, cheering loudly when it makes it into the bin in the corner of his room. 

his room is much the same since the last time you visited. photos of passing years sit framed on the desk— an image of he and osamu with their arms wrapped around each other, taken right before atsumu left for the olympics. another of you and atsumu placed right next to it, you leaning over his shoulder and him laughing loudly, beer bottles held deftly in hands and drunken flushes decorating your faces. momentos of faded high school memories, interspersed with flashes of young adult realities. 

its more sophisticated than it once was. minimal in furniture, and of the items that decorate the room they’re the perfect reflection of a twenty-four year old athlete. his closet is lined with designer gifted clothes, but his desk chair remains stacked with undone laundry, the basics of his everyday life found in the plush cushion more than on the hangers. the jacket you’re currently wearing was stolen from the top of that pile just after delivering a pointed comment at how cold he keeps his apartment. 

its a far cry from the bedroom he used to share with his brother, the one you remember at the dusk of previous memories. it was cramped and contained, lines between the two boys constantly blurred and you having to learn rather quickly where to step and when. but even now, as he lives on his own in a city a bit further from you than you’re comfortable with, not much has changed. you still sit on the left side of the bed and he takes the right; you still eat burgers on his bed and steal his jackets, and he throws papers into trash bins and insists he could’ve made it professional were he not already in volleyball; you still moan and complain about the woes of daily life and he still listens to them endlessly, interjecting the same amount of dumb enthusiasm as you know him to have. 

there is still much in common that remains between he and you. trusted familiarity, endless comfort; a bubble that remains whole and precious, unaltered despite life dealing its hand to you. you’re convinced there’s no one else in the world that gets you quite like atsumu does. 

there’s also no one in the world that works you up, quite like atsumu does.

atsumu stands from the bed, retrieving your own trash from your lap and chucking the rest of it in the bin. lithe and lean, he moves with a body that is sculpted to perfection as he turns off the overhead light and instead turns on the desk lamp, submerging the room in the lowly warmth of its glow. days are shorter now and the sun has just made it return home, leaving you to the dim luster of a pleasant comfort. 

its quiet, intimate. words entirely inappropriate to describe the weekly hangout with your best friend of seven years. 

pushing thoughts aside, you fight to remember what the whole point of the conversation was about. a boyfriend, right. your boyfriend.

right. 

“and he does not have a weird face, he’s just… interesting. it’s what i liked about him.” 

“revolting. i’m this close to spiking a ball in his face. it would be plastic surgery for the dud.”

“you’re being mean.” you tell him. 

atsumu scoffs loudly, “and yer being stupid! yer the one that’s complaining to me about it. yer really gonna date a guy who can’t figure it out when he fingers ya? what happens when ya actually have sex with the bozo?”

“it takes practice. i don’t blame him for not being able to get me there on the first try. i see him later tonight so i’ll talk to him about it. it’s hard to figure out how to turn someone on and then try to, you know, get me there—“

“woahwoahwoah—timeout.” atsumu hold his hands perpendicular to one another, forming a ‘t’. his eyebrows practically touch the hairline of his bleached hair. “he doesn't even turn you on?”

“not everyone is good at everything, like you.” you mean it sarcastically, but it comes out short and meek. it’s embarrassing to have to cover for the misgivings of your current beau, but there’s an obligation to. a point to make, especially to the man in front of you. 

you’ve met the ex-girlfriends, heard their feedback for the man before you. an average of six out of ten in boyfriend material, but he knocks the ball out of the park when it comes to the bed—or so you’ve heard. 

(aya, the most recent girl to have made her grand exit, followed you on instagram and asked you to not be a stranger. whether that was so she could have her in for atsumu or because she really wanted to be friends is still up for debate, but the gesture ended with a message in your directs.

[9:17] it sucks, he’ll always be more in love with volleyball than any girl he could ever date. and even if he didn’t, you’re his number two anyway, so there’s really no way i can win.

[9:20] i’m super sorry, aya. if it’s any consolation, i really liked you two together. he’s just slow, i’m sure you guys will figure it out.

[9:20] you were our biggest argument. 

[9:20] so no, i don’t think we will.

[9:21] i’ll miss that dick tho, best orgasm of my life. rip

there’s not much you can say to a message like that. there’s not much you can say to the surge of smugness that courses through you either, so you don’t.

you don’t tell atsumu about it.)

“alright. sit up then.”

his voice startles you. “what?” 

suddenly, he stands before the side of the bed, looming horribly tall over you as he peers down at you. he shoves his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants, the fabric unintentionally pulling down ever so slightly and the waistband of his black boxers peeking out in greeting. the light of the desklamp casts a halo over his silhouette.

your attention is drawn upward and it’s hard to deny the familiar pang that tends to strike through you every so often in times like this. the simple effect of being near him. atsumu is unfairly handsome, and while it’s hard to put a name to the feeling that pulses inside of you when the light catches him just right or when a smile is even more charming than usual, the ache is always the same.

it’s fleeting, you convince yourself. something you refuse to settle on for too long. contexts and suppressed hopes pushed to the back of your mind along with the other unspoken things.

“come on.” he gestures two fingers upward. “i’ll show ya how easy it is to turn a girl on.”

its curiosity that has you standing up on your knees on the comforter, nothing more. its the wonder of how exactly your best friend makes his move on women that leads you to be so close to him, chests practically touching. breaths intertwining as atsumu stares a kind of serious into you that you’ve never been in the receiving end of before.

“im gonna touch ya.” his voice is low and your heart beats erratically in your chest. you nod. 

lifting his right hand, cold fingertips run across the heated skin on the back of your arm. digits trailing upward as he paints a pathway up. and it’s nothing—just his hand on your arm, nothing new or different, and yet your breath hitches. innocent in theory, but something solidifies on atsumu’s face, the familiar signs of determination playing out on his face. it’s less babied now, more formed and angular with the growings of an adult man, but it’s the same focus in his eye, the same clench in his jaw. 

his fingers trail up then down, repeating a circular figure on your skin. the sounds of your mingling breaths the only whispers between you two. your eyes dart down to his lips, but his stay fixed on you. studying every flicker of your eye, every inhale. 

his fingers break from their pattern and trails down to your wrist, then your palm, then your own fingers. tracing them, dancing with them, intertwining them slightly only to pull them away. 

“we should stop.” you whisper after a moment of his caress.

“why?” he asks and a quick glance to his gaze reveals that he knows why. he’s just making you spell it out.

it’s unfortunate that the only reason you want to stop is out of principle, and not because you truly have any reservations about any of this. your boyfriend of three months all but an annoying buzz in your ear.

“this feels like cheating.” you tell him simply. atsumu cocks his head to the side, charming smirk pulling across his lips. 

“i’m touching yer arm. this isn’t anything, yet.”

“you shouldn’t be touching my arm like this.”

“why? cause it’s working, right?” his voice drops to a low rumble, words vibrating through you and shooting straight to your core. “see how easy it is?”

“that means this is cheating then, right?” the question is posed, but it’s obvious it’s more to convince yourself than him. because all that he’s done is touch your arm and you’ve felt the bubbling of that unnamed something heat within you. it feels the exact same as it did seven years ago when you met him; feels identical to the moment four years ago when a drunken night led to a drunken kiss that was forgotten about the next day; feels the exact same whenever he looks at you like he does now, like you're open for the taking. a pointedly very different response to the dread that comes when getting intimate with your actual boyfriend. 

and while atsumu may be doing this to prove a point, to rub it in your face that he was right and you were wrong, you don’t trust that you’ll be able to not carry this with you. to not want more than you should. 

“nah.” he says simply, knowingly. “if i kiss you then it’s a problem.”

“oh, so kissing is cheating, but fingering isn’t?”

“can you shuddup? always runnin’ that damn mouth.” he renders you quiet. 

satisfied with your silence, he brings his left hand to cup your jaw, thumb and index finger grasping your chin and tilting your head to the left, leaving your neck exposed. he leans in, nose tracing a line up the column of your neck until he meets the juncture between that and your jaw. it’s a simple movement, and yet it feels like eternity in his hands. his breath hits steadily against the expanse of your cheek as he whispers into your ear.  “does he touch ya like this?” 

the gasp you release is guttural.

the arm previously fiddling with your fingers quickly wraps around your waist, pulling you flush to him. you have no choice but to embrace him with your own arms, hands cupping the back of his neck to steady yourself. it’s impulse to run them down the expanse of his back, to feel the muscles that he’s worked so hard for, but you resist. keeping yourself locked on his neck and nothing more, as though you being pliant to his ministrations wasn’t jeopardizing enough.  

his thumb inches upward, stroking the corner of your lips sweetly. “does he take his time with ya? cause i would.” 

its then that his lips meet the skin of your neck, tingles erupting from the connection. all of its effects causing an inadvertent clench within you. “it’s not about shoving fingers inside and just doing it. its about doing it the way you like it. and i’d make ya tell me how ya like it. since yer always runnin’ that damn mouth, might as well put it to good use.”

its all-encompassing, the traitorous burn between your thighs. and yet, this is the unnamed something, all that you’ve pushed away.

“astumu—” you whine and its in that exhale of yours that he releases a sigh of his own. one that almost sounds restrained.

“tell me to stop.” he says quickly, lips mouthing against your neck as he utters the words. 

and you don’t want him to. not really. the desire is feverish, unlike anything you’ve felt before and to end this is to end the sweetness of something you’ve yet to taste. if it were to be with anyone you would want it to be with him.

you could take the teasing, the “i-told-you-so” from osamu, the obliteration of a friendship for the uncertain promise of something more. but it isn’t right. not like this. if mountains were to come to a head, you want it to happen because they were gravitated to each other, not because the earth told them to do so.

“stop.” you tell him, and it’s like a hot brand that strikes him. he’s immediately pushing away from, untangling his limbs from you and stepping back into the swath of darkness in the room. 

his breaths are deep and heavy, that much you can tell from the distance. shuttering exhales that wrack his chest. you can hardly make out his irises, only see the intensity of dark pupils. it’s hard to believe that he could be feeling the way you do, just from the simple touch alone. a quick glance down to his grey sweatpants proves otherwise. 

a moment, then two, pass by. ragged breaths filling the distance, words spoken in the silent language you’re both fluent in. 

“does this mean i’m easy then?” you ask quietly, an effort to ease the wall of tension. 

“no.” he shakes his head gently, “just means i know ya.”

he knows what he means to say, the words and all of their yearning practically knocking against his teeth to escape. it’s the long haul, almost a decade long game of carefully advanced chess pieces to get to this point. blocked, temporarily, by the appearance of the new guy. a boyfriend of yours that atsumu met once, a guy he barely attempted to learn the name of. for reasons of his own, their knowing pertinent only to him. held deeply within the urges of being seen, the desires of having you wholly, completely.

there are plenty of other ways that he could do this—probably be more eloquent about it. admit pushed away feelings when you’re not in the midst of ranting about how your boyfriend just can’t get you off. 

but the tension irks him. thick enough to cut a knife, always following the two of you in the long held stares and closeness in which you two gravitate towards each other. the answer to your boyfriend problem is standing right in front of you. he knows what he wants you to do when you see your boyfriend later tonight. 

there are certain shoes that atsumu is convinced he could fill better than your boyfriend.

your face is flushed, and the desk lamp makes you look angelic under the lowlights, and you're wearing his jacket like you always do in a way that makes him believe it was always meant for you. and he’s not entirely convinced, even without the cloud of lust that hangs over him, that you don’t want this just as bad as he does.

osamu once said that atsumu wouldn’t admit his feelings to you even if they hit him over the head. they’re here, now. settling in the distance between you two, bobbing in the capsizing waves of want. they ache to be spoken, knock repeatedly against his gritted teeth. 

but a choice is made in that moment, with you looking at him as wild as you are. atsumu will admit to the selfish and prideful part of himself, but this—you— aren’t something to just take. the taste of your neck, the feel of your body against him, it must be given to him, earned. not because he needs to make a petty point, but because you want him to. 

he cares for you too much to be reckless in how he plays his cards. even if osamu will bust his balls for it later.

you have a boyfriend. and he can’t force you to change that. it wouldn’t be right, he’s given you the taste, he hopes it will be enough.

“like that.” he says after a moment, pushing down his pride and long held desires for you. “tell him ya like it like that.”

a/n: why is it that whenever i stop writing for kuroo, the one i always want to write for is atsumu. also big ups for my beta who entertains me and proofreads me at all hours of the day. i love you sanju!!!!!!

[temptingfatetakingnames]

Open mic night was Eddie’s favourite night of the week. It wasn’t often that the group was able to make the drive up to Indy but everyone was finally available this time. Gareth, Jeff and Grant were going in his van. Steve was taking Robin, Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy. Steve hadn’t seemed too interested when Eddie had invited them but he owed Robin something and she forced him into being their designated driver for the evening’s festivities. It would be the first time the groups would be mixing and Eddie was incredibly anxious about it.

He loved Gareth, Jeff and Grant but they had no filters whatsoever and even though Steve might not be a douchebag anymore, he had still been King Steve and that didn’t just go away because they had fought interdimensional demons together. He also couldn’t explain to the guys the real reason he was hanging out with Steve without mentioning said interdimensional demons. So. Eddie was anxious. But it was open mic night and he was going to hope for the best. He fucking loved open mic night.

“Tell me again how you became friends with Harrington?” Grant asked from the back seat.

Eddie couldn’t help but sigh, he had explained (lied) to them all multiple times but they could sense that something was missing from the story.

“I told you! Henderson introduced us. You know how he always went on and on about him, had to see for myself.”

“And you hit it off? Just like that?” Jeff asked.

Eddie shrugged. That was the story and he was sticking to it.

“But why did you have to invite him to open mic night?” Gareth whined.

“Chill out. We’re going to have a good time,” Eddie said as he reached for the radio dial. He turned the music up louder, ending the Q and A portion of the ride.

When they pulled up at the bar, he saw that Steve and the rest of the gang were already there and waiting outside. He parked the van and went to meet them. Steve was standing a bit off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, scowling at Robin. He looked good. A simple black t-shirt showed off his arms and tight acid washed jeans showed off his ass. Eddie assumed Robin had helped him pick the outfit, he had never seen Steve wear black before. Nancy and Johnathan were holding hands and leaning into each other’s space and Argyle was finishing off the last few tokes of his joint.

Robin spotted him and the guys and waved them over.

“Hey, Eddie!” she said with a bright smile lighting up her face.

Eddie tucked one hand into his front pocket and used the other to wave back. “Hey guys, this is Grant, Jeff, and Gareth,” he said pointing at each of them in turn. “This is Robin, Nancy, Johnathan, Argyle and Steve.”

Introducing them all to each other might have seemed a little silly – they did all go to high school together. Well, except for Argyle – but it felt right, too. Eddie wanted them to get along and making introductions felt like a new start. They all nodded at each other, somewhat warily before moving to the door. They didn’t intermingle – group lines still clearly demarcated and Eddie sighed.

Wayne was good friends with the owner of the bar, so he let Eddie and his friends drink a bit. Usually just a pitcher or two of his cheapest beer, which was completely fine with him. Beer was beer as far as he was concerned and he wasn’t going to complain when he was getting it for free while he was still underaged. The place wasn’t too full yet, he liked to arrive a little early so he could get a spot near the front of the stage. He got everyone settled at the table and then dragged Jeff off to the bar to help him with the drinks.

“Hey there, my main man Moe,” Eddie sing-songed as he approached the man behind the counter. He was Wayne’s age with wrinkles around his eyes and grey in his hair. He and Wayne went way back, the best of friends even though they were complete opposites. Where Wayne could be quiet and standoffish, Moe was charismatic and brash – they balanced each other.

“Eddie!” Moe called back and smiled widely at him. “Good to see ya, how’s Wayne?”

“Wayne’s great! He says hello.”

“How many glasses?” Moe asked as he started to fill up a pitcher of beer. “You brought a big group this time.”

“Oh, uh – nine!... Please.”

Moe set the pitcher on the counter before turning to grab and stack a bunch of cups. Jeff picked up the cups and Eddie took the pitcher.

“Thanks, Moe.”

Moe waved him off, still smiling.

He and Jeff made their way back to the table. Eddie was pleased to see that the two groups were intermingling a bit when he got back. Robin was chatting with Grant and Gareth, which made sense – they probably had the most in common. Johnathan and Nancy were sitting side by side, listening. Argyle was currently a space cadet, staring at the popcorned ceiling like it was the night sky. And Steve – well Steve had his arms across his chest and was leaning back like he wished he was anywhere else. Whatever, he could be a grumpy goose all he wanted. Eddie placed the pitcher in the center and Jeff started handing out the cups.

“So, what’s the King been up to since graduating?” Gareth asked and then took a sip of beer. Eddie rolled his eyes. The question was innocent enough but the way Gareth asked it made it sound like he already knew the answer and it couldn’t be anything good.

“Family Video re-opened, so me and Robs have been working,” he said and shrugged, taking the question and the way it was asked in a surprisingly good stride.

“That’s it? Working at Family Video?” Grant chimed in with a smirk.

Everyone could read between the lines of what Grant and Gareth were saying – the great Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, King of Hawkins High graduated but going nowhere – Working a menial service industry job that he probably hated. Eddie didn’t know if Steve had any other plans. He knew Robin and Nancy were all set to go off to college once they graduated but he and Steve had never really talked about their life goals. Maybe he was happy with an easy job and no stress. There were worse things, he supposed. But he also couldn’t imagine getting stuck in fucking Hawkins.

“Yup,” Steve replied. “That’s it.”

“That is not it, Steve!” Robin said from across the table. “Why don’t you tell them –” Her words were cut off when Moe walked onto the stage and announced that open mic night had officially begun.

A cheer went around the room and usually Eddie would be the first one to go up to the mic but he wanted Robin to finish her sentence. It was clear she wasn’t going to when the cheers finally quieted and a man from the back of the room approached the stage. Eddie listened but he found himself distracted; he hated mysteries. Puzzles needed to be solved or else he felt them like an itch in the back of his mind. He would need to bring the conversation back around to Steve later so he could find out what else the man had going on.

When the first performance ended to polite claps, Eddie jumped up to go next. He loved putting on a show. Moe always had an acoustic and electric guitar on the stage for anyone who wanted to use them. Eddie grabbed the electric guitar and strummed a few chords, testing it out before he went up to the microphone. He usually stuck to more rock and roll songs for open mic night over the heavier stuff he performed with Corroded Coffin. It was nice to be able to do both and he loved it when the crowd sang along with him. He finished his slowed down version of For Whom the Bells Tolls with an exaggerated bow.

A few regulars he knew went up after him. Jeff did a great acoustic version of Number of the Beast which Eddie had not expected to work at all. Robin and Nancy did a Blondie’s song together that wasn’t half bad. They had nice voices, and Robin at least managed to stay on key. Blondie was no joke.

They were on their third pitcher, the mood at the table loosened as they talked and sang and drank. Eddie and Steve only had one beer each before switching to sodas – a stipulation of Moes that anyone he brought to drink had a safe drive home. Eddie had never bent this rule, he appreciated Moe giving them a space to come and drink and he wouldn’t get him in trouble by driving drunk.

“Steve! Your turn!” Nancy yelled.

Steve shook his head. “I’m not getting up there. I’m only here because Robin made me come.”

Jeff and Gareth shared a look between them, rolling their eyes.

“Afraid to sing in front of us, Harrington?” Eddie asked. He knew that Steve wasn’t afraid of anything. His dumb bravery would put the strongest barbarian to shame but sometimes heckling worked and Eddie really wanted to hear him sing.

Steve just leaned back calmly. “Not gunna work on me, Munson.”

“Steve,” Robin whined and stretched out his name, “you have to sing.”

“Nope,” Steve responded.

Robin leaned over so she was practically in his lap and squeezed his cheeks together.

“You have to sing, Steve,” she said with the utmost seriousness.

Something passed between them because Steve’s eyes got large and frightened and Robin snickered. She had something on him! Something he didn’t want her to tell them and she was threatening him with it. Good job, Robin!

Steve sighed deeply before heading up the stage as the crowd hooted and hollered.

Robin leaned back in her chair with a satisfied smirk on her face.

“He’s probably going to sing Tears for Fears or Abba or something,” Eddie said to the group.

“My money is on Madonna,” Nancy chimed in.

Robin snorted. “Duran Duran!”

They all laughed.

Steve grabbed the microphone and took a deep breath, looking out into the crowd. His first note echoed in the room and the talking and laughter ceased immediately, all eyes turned and focused on the stage.

I get up in the evenin’ And I ain’t got nothing to say Come home in the mornin’ I go to bed feelin’ the same way I ain’t nothin’ but tired Man, I’m just tired and bored with myself     Hey there, baby, I could use just a little help

Not a sound could be heard from anyone in the room as they all listened in rapt silence. Steve’s voice was ethereal, perfectly pitched, beautiful. Eddie had never heard anything like it.

You can't start a fire You can't start a fire without a spark This gun's for hire Even if we're just dancin' in the dark

The thing was, Eddie liked Steve. He was a better person and friend than he could have ever expected of the former king. But he was a surface level person, what you saw was what you got. He could be sassy and mean and didn’t seem to dive too deeply into his own feelings. Steve was simple and he liked simple things. He was Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington for Christ sakes, he could not have the deep well of emotion and pain that he was conveying in this song.

But he did.

And he was.

Eddie turned to Robin and hissed in her ear as quietly as he could, “did you know about this?”

But she was looking at Steve just as dumbstruck as the rest of them and slowly shook her head.

You sit around gettin' older There's a joke here somewhere and it's on me I'll shake this world off my shoulders Come on, baby, the laugh's on me

Steve was baring his goddamn soul. And maybe Eddie had still been judging him too harshly on who he used to be – because they had fought a fucking war together. But it had always seemed to just…glide off Steve. They must have missed it – the darkness and loneliness in his eyes that Eddie was seeing now. They were all seeing it now. Nancy and Robin were both staring at him like they had never seen him before. Eddie was ashamed. How often did he lament people for thinking they knew him? For judging him on his looks before they even tried to know him? And now he had done it, too. But this was worse because Steve was his friend… and he hadn’t seen it. He had seen a piece of the man and assumed it for the whole.

Stay on the streets of this town And they'll be carvin' you up alright They say you gotta stay hungry Hey baby, I'm just about starvin' tonight I'm dyin' for some action I'm sick of sittin' 'round here tryin' to write this book I need a love reaction Come on now, baby, gimme just one look

This blew all of his preconceived notions out of the water. Steve was singing like his goddamn heart was breaking and no one in the world understood him. It was a masterpiece and Eddie was floored. Absolutely floored. He had heard Dancing in the Dark a million times. But Steve… The way he sang it gave the words such a deeper meaning. It was beautiful and haunting and pained. It changed everything about the song… and everything he thought he knew about Steve Harrington.

You can't start a fire Worryin' about your little world fallin' apart This gun's for hire Even if we're just dancin' in the dark Even if we're just dancin' in the dark

He held the last note, beautifully pitched, before he let it go. The room was silent, everyone as awestruck as Eddie. After a pregnant pause everyone erupted into cheers and whistles and Steve dropped his head as a blush starting creeping over his cheekbones – his hair falling over his face. Adorable.

Oh. Oh no.

No. No. No.

He did not just think that.

Appreciative eyes followed Steve as he made his way back to their table and Eddie bristled. He wanted to growl and bare his teeth at them all.

“You have the voice of an angel, my dude,” Argyle said.

“Thanks man,” Steve said as he sat back down.

Robin immediately attacked him, shoving him and screaming, “what the hell was that?”

“You wanted me to sing! So, I sang!” he yelled back.

“I didn’t know you could sing, Steve! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Steve shrugged. “Never came up, I guess.”

“Never came up!? Neve came up?” Robin’s voice kept increasing in volume and incredulity. Eddie was right there with her. “I am betrayed! Betrayed, Steve!”

Steve rolled his eyes at her dramatics. “Calm down, Buckley. It was just a song.”

“It wasn’t just a song though, was it?” Nancy asked quietly.

Steve tensed up and ducked his head but not before Eddie saw something dark move through his eyes. He wanted to ask if Steve was okay, wanted to drag him somewhere quiet where he could talk to him and ask him questions and find out what was behind his eyes – what was behind that song. Eddie wanted to split his skull open and peer inside and learn everything there was to know about Steve Harrington. He couldn’t take his eyes off him, was begging desperately in his head for Steve to look up, to look at him, too.

Who are you, Steve Harrington?

Eddie’s mind itched at the unexpected puzzle.

Part 2

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

DON’T YOU EVER GROW UP

CHARACTERS: Joel Miller & Sarah Miller

RATING: none | WORD COUNT: 900

SUMMARY: Joel experiences many emotions as Sarah reaches the childhood milestone of getting her “big girl” bed.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is me, projecting my own experience onto my favorite character because I’m a fic writer and that’s what I do. Divider by @/saradika-graphics and beta read by @murder-wife 💕

LINKS: support for palestine 🇵🇸

Joel wipes the sweat beading along his hairline with the back of his hand. He stares at the new bed frame, his mind not reconciling how much bigger than her convertible crib it is. It's just a twin, white wood that matches her dresser and her bookcase stuffed with children's books of all shapes and sizes, but it seeing it take up so much space feels jarring.

"Little help?" Tommy calls from the hallway. Joel shakes his head to clear his thoughts before joining his brother, who holds one end of a mattress teetering on the stairs. Together they bring it the rest of the way into Sarah's room, settling it on the frame.

"Thanks for the help," Joel says, patting Tommy's shoulder. "I owe ya one."

"Don't sweat it. I know the little miss was dyin' for her new big girl bed."

There it is, the phrase that makes Joel's heart clench in his chest. Sarah's barreling towards five years old, shedding some of the baby roundness in her cheeks and no longer saying certain words incorrectly, the way toddlers tend to do. She gets up every morning for preschool and eats her cereal all by herself and comes home in the afternoon to tell Joel about her day, legs kicking against the chair while she shows him her art because she's not quite tall enough to reach the floor. Joel looks around the room again, remembering the rocking chair in the corner that was the first piece of her childhood to retire, followed by the changing table with its pile of diapers. He thinks about how small she'd been, how light her tiny body was on his chest and for a moment he misses it so fiercely his eyes burn with the threat of tears.

"I need a beer," Tommy says, leaving the room. Joel takes the opportunity to press his fingers to his eyes, willing the wave of emotion to subside before joining his brother in the kitchen.

They share a couple beers before Tommy checks his watch, announcing that he should leave. On the way out the door, they pass the dismantled crib and Tommy taps it with his hand.

"You want me to drop that off for donation?" he asks. Joel looks at the chipped white wood, rubs a thumb over a dent in the veneer.

"No, that's alright. I'll take care of it," he replies. Tommy shrugs and Joel walks him out to his truck parked in the drive way, waving him off. When Tommy disappears from view, he heads next door to Connie's house.

He knocks on the front door and waits, the sound of tiny feet against wood growing louder, making his smile grow wider. The door opens, Sarah's sweet face peeking through the crack allowed by the chain lock.

"Password?" she asks, tone as serious as a four year old can muster. Joel crouches down to look her in the eye.

"Pizza for dinner," he says. She squeals in excitement and jumps away from the door just as Connie unlocks it. His daughter sits on the worn carpet runner to pull on her shoes while Joel asks how she behaved.

"She was an angel as always," Connie assures him. "Wait right here, we made cookies earlier and I want to send y'all home with some."

Connie disappears down the hall and Sarah darts after her. When they return, his daughter is balancing a foil wrapped plate in both hands, tongue peeking out of her mouth in concentration.

"Thanks again, Con. I'll be 'round Sunday to help Dan with the yard," Joel promises. Connie waves a hand at him.

"Don't you worry about it, you know it ain't a big deal to watch her. You got a good egg on your hands."

Back at home, Joel calls in an order for pizza that he shares with Sarah. He lets her take sips of his Coke to wash it down, her brown eyes wide with excitement at getting to drink soda with dinner. After a bath, pajamas, and a minor argument over brushing her teeth, Sarah enters her room for the first time that evening and sees her new bed.

"Wow!" she exclaims, clambering onto the mattress. She stands, jumping excitedly and Joel wraps an arm around her middle, placing her back on the ground.

"Remember how that song goes? The monkey falls off and bumps his head?" Joel asks, knocking his knuckles against the top of her head as she giggles. "No jumpin'. Come on, let's get your sheets on."

Together, though the bulk of the effort falls on Joel, they get her bed ready. Purple sheets with a cream colored quilt decorated with purple butterflies, a set that she spotted in the store that Joel went back to purchase on his own. She crawls between the sheets and settles her head on the pillow, ready for her stories. Joel reads three books of her choosing and shuts down her argument for a fourth, seeing that she can barely keep her eyes open any longer. He plugs in her pink butterfly nightlight and kisses her forehead.

"Goodnight, baby girl," he whispers.

"'M not a baby, I'm a big girl now," Sarah replies in her sleepy voice. Her eyes have already drifted shut before he can respond and he stands there for a moment, watching her with a lump in his throat.

Sarah may be getting bigger, but she'll always be his baby. Of that, Joel is certain.

Thank you for reading! For more of my writing visit:

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Joel Miller masterlist

[milf-murdock]

Well, I’m about to hop out of the bath, and unfortunately I did have to stop just before things got ~juicy 😔 but here’s a lil WIP to hold ya over

Kate Laswell x Wife!Reader

Warnings: gross men being creepy, but Laswell comes to your rescue 😘 canonical swearing, and just a lil nsfw (I might keep writing if there’s an audience for it lol) I do owe you some Top Laswell, anon

Truth be told, you hated coming to base. It was all so rough and rugged, a veritable Good Ole Boys Club that smelled like cigars and gunpowder. You keep your head held high as your step across the gravelly terrain, the small heel of your shoes adding a slight wobble to your step. You catch the eye of a couple of soldiers and ignore their thirsty gazes as they stop to gawk. Picking up the pace, you hurry to your destination: the bar. Just past the far edges of the base, it was obvious the foul-smelling, secluded establishment was less intended for civilian patrons and catered more to offering a place for military officials to take the edge off. You hated this place even more than you hated the base itself, but you know Kate loves a beer right after a job, and John had texted you to meet them here, which could only mean one thing—Kate was back.

The pungent smell of stale beer and cigarettes floods your nostrils as you open the heavy door. It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but you find your way to the bar. Once again, you keep your head held high, pointedly ignoring the men who don’t even try to pretend they’re not checking you out.

You adjust the hem of your skirt as you take a seat on the bar stool, anything to keep your hands busy. It’s only a matter of moments before a slurred voice comes from behind you, and your shoulders stiffen.

“Well what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

Despite your better judgement, you glance over your shoulder to see a tall, older man in uniform. You can smell the beer on his breath, and you don’t even bother to hide your grimace.

“I’m waiting for someone,” you respond curtly, turning back around.

“Hey now, don’t be like that. Just give me a smile and I’ll be on my way.”

You ignore him, busying your hands with a stray thread at the edge of your skirt, tugging to pull it loose.

You hear a scoff from behind you before you feel a rough hand on your shoulder. “I’m talking to you, bitch,” he growls.

Your breath catches in your throat, completely frozen under his touch.

And in the next second, you hear another voice—a female voice, low and full of a threatening malice.

“I suggest you take your fucking hand off my wife.”

Relief floods your body, your eyes fluttering close as the weight lifts from your shoulder.

“Shit, I- I didn’t—“ the man stammers, hands raised as he takes a step back.

Laswell steps closer. “And if you ever call my wife a bitch again, you will find yourself on the fucking street with nothing but a dishonorable discharge to your pathetic name. Is that understood?”

Without a word, the man turned to flee the bar, not even passing a glance to his group of encouragers, who all found themselves instantly fascinated by their pint glasses in hand.

“Katie!” You exclaim, leaping from the bar stool to throw your arms around her neck. Her laugh fills your ears, and it sounds like rays of pure sunshine.

“Hi, bun,” her voice is low in your ear as she holds you close. “Told you I’d be back before you know it.”

You squeeze her even tighter, standing on your tiptoes to match her height. “Every minute apart from you feels like an eternity, Kate.” You can’t stop the slight break in your voice as tears well up. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

Kate pulls back just enough to press a fierce kiss to your lips. Your mouth parts in surprise at the passion; typically Kate’s kisses are on the more reserved side in public. Kate uses your parted lips as an opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth, immediately taking dominance. You melt like putty in her hands, falling into the kiss. All too soon, Kate breaks the kiss, leaving you breathless and your lips swollen.

She smiles down at you with a tenderness only reserved for her wife, one hand coming up to brush your cheek. “Let me take you home, bunny.”

You struggle to put together a coherent thought after that damned kiss. “But don’t you want—you usually like, uh,” you blink furiously, trying to think past the rising need taking over your body. “Beer?” You finish lamely, feeling the flush in your cheeks as your gaze bounces between Kate’s lips and her bedroom eyes.

Kate chuckles, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “Fuck the beer, sweetheart. I have better plans.” A shiver races down your spine and you can feel the wetness pool between your legs.

Kate pulls back just a bit, her lips hovering above your own. “Does that sound ~good?” She’s teasing you, her sweet breath fans over your face, and you can’t help but imagine that breath elsewhere. Your cunt clenches, and you bite your bottom lip, holding back an audible moan as you nod your head eagerly.

Kate has you eating out of the palm of her hand. And she fucking loves it.

“After you, my love,” she coos as she steps aside and lets you lead the way back to the car. You stumble across the bar, looking for all intents and purposes like you were the one to overindulge, though you hadn’t had a sip of alcohol. But Kate knows how you get when she’s gone for long periods of time. She knows how you get when the need is absolutely eating you whole, that fire of desire coursing through your veins. It turns you into a puddle, nothing more than a weeping mess entirely at her mercy. Kate clenches just thinking about it as she watches your ass sway in that perfect fucking dress she knows you wore just for her.

[skylarsblue]

✦Incorrect C.o.D Quotes Nine✦

(Sexual Implication) Ghost, trying to be sexy by whispering: Gaggin’ for it, aren’t ya, love? Soap: Nope. Ghost: No? Soap: I don’t gag on anything. Ghost: *404 Error* Soap: …Ghost? Si? Simon, are you alright?

-- Y/N: Let’s play a word association game! Ghost: Why? Y/N: Because I saved your ass last mission and I’m bored, so you owe me. Ghost: *sigh* Fine. Y/N: P e r f e c t . Gaz: ?? Y/N: Cold. Ghost: Winter. Y/N: Spring. Ghost: Mattress. Y/N: Soft. Ghost: Comfortable. Y/N: Pleasant. Ghost: Sunset. Y/N, With a shit eating grin: Beautiful. Ghost, unconsciously: Johnny- Y/N: YES Gaz: OHHHHHH Ghost: Soap: *gasp* Simon!~ Ghost: I’m going to go crash in a heli. Y/N: I KNEW IT I KNEW IT-

-- Alex: Bitch do you want me to jump across this table? Because I don’t have all day for this. Norris: You feeling froggy? Leap. Alex: Okay, well here I come- Farah: Alex no, no- hOLD OFF

-- (NSFW Joke) Y/N: Oh sorry. I almost drank out of your cup. Soap: Wh-Just go ahead, it won’t matter! Y/N: Well I- Yeah no, you’re right. I’ve drank out of your cups dozens of times. Soap: We’ve sucked the same dick- Y/N: That’s a good point! Ghost: ….*sigh*

-- Gaz: What kind of girl do you like? Soap: My wife. Gaz: And you? Ghost: Johnny’s wife. Gaz: OH- Price, knowing they recently started a poly situation: Pfft-

-- (Use of the word pussy because haha) Gaz, filming: Pffft- Soap: Shhshh- Y/N in the hallway: FORTY THREE FUCKING CENTS! AHHHHH Soap: *wheeze* Y/N: I NEED A SUGAR DADDY!! Gaz: PFFFT- Soap: I can’t breathe- Y/N: At this rate I’m ready to plaster my fuckin’ pussy on the sidewalk for some sPARE CHANGE! Gaz & Soap: *doing that silent cackle thing and smack each other in the arm* Ghost, leaning into the room: What the f- Y/N: SPAARE CHANGE, SPARE CHANGE! ANYONE GOT ANY SPARE CHAAANGE?! Gaz: *coughing* Soap: Steamin’ Jesus I’m fucking crying- Y/N, passing by the room: 🎵Walkin’ in a winter wonderlaaaand🎶

-- Y/N: Would you love me? Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Would I love you if…? Y/N: nO ThAt wAs tHE QuesTiOn-

-- Y/N: Pretty boy! With me I said! Rudy: Rudy: Rudy: Oh I’m pretty boy! Y/N: Yes! Oo that came out a bit quick- (Also works with Soap & Gaz, honestly)

-- (THIS IS A CONCEPT IM TOO WHIMPY TO WRITE, SO HAVE IT HERE! THIS COULD WORK WITH SO MANY CHARACTERS Also, NSFW warning) Ghost: I don’t miss. Y/N, on his ear piece: Never? Even with distractions? Ghost: *turns his scope* Not ever. *just about to take a shot* Y/N: Hmm…what if I went… Mm Simon~ Ghost: *misses* Y/N: Ya missed. Ghost: Cheeky bitch…

-- Gaz: Alright, so, since we’re now in America and we have some time to kill, I went and I got you something. Y/N: Aww Gaz, you really didn’t have to- Gaz: *puts down their Whataburger order* Y/N: OH MY GOD Price: Really? Gaz: *shrug* Soap: *snickering as Y/N Fucking demolishes some fries* Y/N, having the time of their life: Garrick you ever need your dick sucked, a dead body buried, a beer or whatever, you call me. I got’chu Gaz: BAHA- Soap: *wheeze* Ghost: Are you fucking crying? Y/N with their mouth full: I missed it so much.

-- (Team bonding exercises) Soap: You’re a football player, it’s in ya blood! Gaz: That’s racist. Soap: Your soul? Gaz: That’s racist! Soap: …your eyes? Gaz: That’s gay- Soap: That’s homophobic. Gaz: That’s black. Soap: That’s racist!! Gaz: Damn- (this one is extra funny since Gaz is now confirmed LGBT)

-- Gaz: You overrated little twink! Soap: Hey I am a TWUNK, alright?! That is a combination, twink, and HUNK, get it?? Hunk-

-- Soap: Hey~ Fem!Y/N: You’re Gay. Soap: …oh yeah. Soap: *looks at Ghost* Soap: Hey.~ Ghost: *sigh*

-- Soap: I’m gonna have to meet men lying down. Y/N: …I thought’cha did?? Soap: OI!

-- Soap: Everyone says what a giving person I am! Y/N: He’s talking about when you’re in an upright position.

-- Graves: What if there’s a connection? Y/N: I think there’s a connection between your brain and wallpaper paste.

-- Shepard: Now you’re always ornery, rude, unpleasant, and sometimes downright mean. That’s part of your charm. Y/N: Thank you, you colluding-county-hopping-idiotic-relic. Price: *pride*

-- Alex: Oh my god, how are you such a good driver? Soap: Because there’s illegal shit in here. Alex: Soap: Because if I don’t use my turn signal, we’re both gonna do fifteen. Because I am going to lie and say yours. Alex: ….. Soap: Put your seatbelt on, sweetheart. Alex: *clicks it in places* Soap: You are not safe!

-- (Sucking dick joke) Kidnapper: You’re gonna do as I say or I will make you regret ever being born. Y/N: Oh please, I’ve sucked dicks more intimidating than you. Soap: Oh this is why Simon was the way he was after we rescued you both last time.

-- Soap, shoving marshmallows in his mouth: This isn’t very ha-*chokes* MILF!Y/N, across the fucking base: ….*mom instinct* Price: ??? Ghost: Uh- Y/N: Something just happened. Kyle: PFFT-

-- MILF!Y/N: *letting Soap & Gaz lean on her while Price and Ghost stand close behind* Untrue. I’m a mother now. It’s really changed my perspective. Graves: And do you find it hard juggling life and a career? Y/N: You can juggle these nuts.

-- Soap: *rambling* Soap: Agh, sorry, I’m just goin’ on and on- Ghost: Oi, keep talking before I kick your ass. Soap: ….. Gaz: See? This is exactly what I m-where the fuck are these flower petals coming from?? ARE THOSE SPARKLES??

[f10werfae]

That ass though

pairing: Husband!Dad!Chris x Short!Wife!Mom!Reader

Summary: Y/n is on another one of her missions of teasing Chris, everyone knows he’s an ass man, but who knew leggings had so much power?

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

Warnings: Smut

Requests are open/Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

Chris Evans Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist Form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Look Noah, it’s mama” Chris said holding up Noah's hand to wave it at his momma, Noah's face widening with a smile as his arms stretched out for Y/n to hold him.

“Woah hold on, when did ya get these?” Chris asked his wife smirking slightly, his fingers looping themselves inside her waistband to tug her closer to him. Noah who was in her arms had his head tucked into the crook of her neck, his arms barely wrapping around her due to how small he still was.

“Hmm what do you mean?” Y/n asked playing coy, her hands smoothing over the top of Noah’s head, his tiny coos filling the kitchen.

“I think you know what I mean baby, lookin' good enough to eat over here” He groaned suddenly groping her ass aggressively, even slapping it just to watch it jiggle in his palm, God was he mesmerised.

“Stop it Chris, your son’s here” Y/n laughed padding about the kitchen, trying to lull the clearly restless Noah into a soft sleep. Before Chris took Noah out of her arms and said he was off to put him down in his crib for a while, although we all know he had an ulterior motive.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“I’m a lucky man” Chris groaned sipping on a cold beer, leaning on the edge of the counter just watching his wife move about the kitchen gracefully.

“Chris I didn’t actually think you’d like them this much? I mean Nancy said it worked wonders but- OW”

Y/n squealed jumping up a little, Chris’ hands coming behind her to give her one hell of a spank, I mean she always knew he was an ass man. We all knew. Turning around to face him, Y/n felt herself swoon at his charming smile and the animalistic growls coming from his mouth as he grabbed and kneaded her ass.

“What’d ya say we get that ass outta those leggings and we can have some fun before our baby wakes up? Man I just love your fuckin’ body” He whispered, his hands grabbing onto her love handles gently, his lips pressing an affection kiss onto her forehead.

“Well I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun, how fast do you think you can cum?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

(Chris' P.O.V)

“Come on Chrissy, give it back” my wife moaned as I gently slid my hardened cock out of her slippery fuck hole, the sounds of her sopping wet cunt filling the room. Her eyes half lidded with her hands intertwined with mine, her hips slowly started to roll against the air.

Slapping my cock on her swollen lips, I heard her wince and whimper, her beautiful tits sitting there perked up looking pretty.

“Come on baby, look at your pretty puffy pussy, knew I missed her” I taunted slowly pushing myself back in, her breath getting caught in her throat as her hands now held onto my forearms which were by my stomach.

“Look at me. Be a good girl, and cum on my fat cock”

(Y/n's P.O.V)

Chris slammed his hips repeatedly into mine, whispering things like “my beautiful perfect wife, all pretty for me to worship”

My arms now linked around his neck, my eyes starting to close due to the immense pleasure coursing through my body.

"Your body is fucking perfect. I'm obsessed with it. I'm not cumming until you do. So, cum for me."

“Nuh uh, you’re gonna cum first” I smirked finding the strength in me to roll him over so I was on top, his eyes widening before accompanying that famous smirk on his face

(Chris’ P.O.V)

“Oh fuck you’re gonna make me squirt hun, fuck” I watched as her body bounced up and down on my cock, watching as she leaned back a bit to start messing with her clit,

“You’re mine” She moaned now hunkering down on my cock, slamming herself down onto it with as much force as she could.

“Yeah? What else mama? Fuckin’ talk to me while you play yourself stupid on my cock. You take such good care of our baby, my own milf”

“I wan’ another baby, want to be so full of you and want everyone to see it. God maybe you can give me twins this time baby? I know how much you loved seein these tits fill up with milk, and seein me all round for you”

She moaned grabbing my hands and putting them onto her tits, her body moving crazily almost as if she was out of control.

“You gonna let me knock you up good? Maybe I should keep you that away”

I watched her body writhe as she bit her lip staring at me directly in the eyes before I felt her squirt her juices all over us both, her hips humping the air as my limp cock fell out of her pussy after filling her up at the same time.

“Baby, oh, you’re milking my cock”

“Fuck fuck, fuuuu”

Grabbing onto her arm I pulled her down for her lips to meet mine, the remnants of her cum filling both of our mouths, letting her taste her sweet self. My hands groping each and every single part of her body that it could reach, her small frame caged in my body, her tongue licking up the mess she made on my face like some animal.

“Was that fast enough for ya?” I teased watching her flop onto my chest, her head in the middle of my chest with her hands holding onto my shoulders. Lifting her head all dazed, she nodded placing a wet open mouthed kiss on me, the sounds of our tongues meeting filling the room.

“This is what painters are inspired by” I whispered cupping her face in my hands,

“The hell are you talkin about?”

“You’re so goddamn beautiful, are you really my wife?”

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @meetmeatyourworst @cevansgurl @imboredat2am @adoreyouusugar @pandaxnienke @patzammit @seren-a-ity @thereisa8ella @evanstanwhore @chrisevansdaughter @chrisevansangel @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @royalwriteroftheuniverse @uwiuwi @jackslover12 @bxdbxtxh15 @madebylilly @marvelgurl @fdl305 @stormcloudss @caps-shield1918 @xoxokiaraaxoxo @mirikusashes @taramaria @mysticfalls01 @sairsei @dumb-fawkin-bitch @vrittivsanghavi @kimhtoo17 @itsaylayay1213 @mrspeacem1nusone

[rafeandonlyrafe]

iou

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (but reader is on birth control), friends to lovers, college!au (briefly), kind of nerdy reader but like more studious, partying, drinking

“seriously, y/n. anything. id pay-shit, id do anything. please.”

the final word out of rafes mouth is finally what breaks you as you slump against your seat. “fine!”

“thank you, thank you.” rafe says, hand gripping yours.

“you know how much extra work i have already rafe.” you whine. it's your fault truly for being an overachiever in college. everyone knows getting paired with you means you immediately take over all the work, having to do double or triple what the other students deal with.

“and that's why ill do anything for you. tell me whatever you want.” rafe pulls his wallet out, thinking you'd ask for money.

in your twelve years of being friends, you've never really shown an interest in money, especially when your parents have enough to send you to the best university, just like the cameron family.

“i don't want your money, rafe.” you roll your eyes. “you just… you just owe me, okay? ill figure it out later, i need to get to work on your assignment now.”

thankfully it's just an essay for a subject you already know a decent bit about, and you don't want to make it too good to make people suspicious of rafe submitting work clearly not done by him, but at the same time you want to save him from failing the class.

“thank you.” rafe says again. “you're actually the coolest girl here.”

you roll your eyes. if only rafe actually saw you that way. he's turned out to be a great friend, especially now that you're away from the outer banks, but he's still the life of every party, the guy all the girls look to. 

it's lead to some uncomfortable moments of trying to figure out if the new friends you were making were just using you to get close to him. 

you realized long before college that rafe didn't see you like other girls. you were his friend first, and a girl his age second. he never once tried to hit on you, even though you desperately wished things would change when you both decided on the same college.

--

“you know, i still owe you.” rafe says, setting a glass of lemonade down in front of you. “never would have passed that class without your essay.”

you smile, taking a sip. “oh, i haven't forgotten.”

you're home for the summer, back in the outer banks with no stress of classes, able to truly relax and unwind.

“seriously, ask for anything, anytime.” rafe says, taking a sip of his beer, the bottle already dripping with condensation.

“ten million dollars?” you smile and tilt your head to the side, making rafe roll his eyes before laughing.

you've only grown closer to rafe since coming home. you thought he'd be excited to see his friends who stayed on the island, but hes more interested in hanging out with you now that you're not busy.

“you're coming to the party this saturday right?” rafe asks. “topper told you about it?”

“yup.” you nod. “he texted me.”

“oh…” rafe hums, suddenly feeling a bite of jealousy he didn't expect. 

“wanna help me pick out a dress to wear?” you ask rafe. you have girl friends that you could talk to, but honestly, the more time you spend with rafe, the more open he becomes, and the less you want to see anyone else.

“absolutely.” 

--

rafe admires his choice as you bring back a drink for him, having just emptied your own glass. 

“here ya go.” you hand him the glass of whiskey before setting your drink down on the table in front of you. you tuck the skirt under your bum as you sit down. of course rafe had to go for the smallest and tightest dress you own, claiming he just really liked the color.

“you're the best.” rafe smiles at you, a soft, slightly drunk, twinkle in his eye.

“yeah, yeah, yeah.” you roll your eyes, tipping your feet to the side to get some weight off your heels. it's been too long since you've worn anything other than sneakers and crocs.

“seriously.” rafe moves his chin to his knuckles, elbow resting on the side of the couch. “you helped me with my essay and so much more when we were at college and you're not even sick of me and telling me to fuck off now that we're back home.”

“id never tell you to fuck off.” you shake your head, taking a large sip of your drink, feeling it immediately add to your buzz.

“we should dance.” you suggest, looking at the crowd of bodies all twisting together in time with the music.

“is that you using the iou?” rafe asks.

you stand up, looking down at rafe. “i need to use an iou to have you dance with me?”

“nope.” rafe stands suddenly, making you aware of how close you are, chests practically touching, mouths hovering not far apart.

you hesitate, just as rafe seems to freeze, before you both move in, rafes lips smashing against yours as you kiss wildly, hands not shy despite all the people around as rafes large palms squeeze your ass, while yours dive underneath his shirt, feeling his muscles.

“fuck, upstairs.” you gasp, rafes lips moving to allow you to catch your breath, but only to kissing your jaw.

rafe doesn't speak, simply lifts you up and allows you to wrap your legs around his waist. you don't care that your dress bunches up and makes your underwear clearly visible to everyone passing by, now when your lips are on rafes neck while he carries you.

as he bounds up the stairs, moving as quickly as he can, you take a moment to suck a hickey into his tanned skin. no way you're going to let this moment go without claiming him for yourself.

rafe pushes into a random guest bedroom. the bed is stripped down to just a sheet, but it'll do as he locks the door behind him, hands fumbling briefly at the doorknob before securing it.

rafe lays you back on the bed, glad to have his lips reconnect with yours as you begin to kiss again, both completely unencumbered by what the kiss means with the alcohol flowing through your bodies.

rafe held himself back for so long, not wanting to ruin his friendship, that he has to force himself to not go wild and immediately tear your dress off.

“baby-” rafe gasps out. 

“if you want to stop, im using my iou to get you to fuck me.” 

“no.” rafe laughs and shakes his head. “save it for when we are arguing over where to eat or what we want to name our future child. im going to fuck you.”

you feel your cheeks flare up, clearly rafe is thinking of this as the start of a relationship, not just a one time hookup, and you couldn't be more happy and relieved.

“fuck me then.” it's all you need to say to get rafe moving again, hands pawing at your dress as you work it off your body, leaving you in nothing but a strapless bra and a tiny thong you put on hoping rafe would see it.

you pull at rafes shirt, a pout on your lips, asking him to take it off without using words.

rafe is quick to oblige you, tossing his shirt somewhere in the room as your lips reconnect, rafes hands gripping at your chest while you feel the muscles along his arms and shoulders.

“i-i need you so bad. i don't have a condom though.” rafe would go down to the party half naked begging for one if you really wanted him to.

“it's okay, im on birth control.” you take rafes hand and press it to your arm, allowing him to feel your implant. “and im clean.”

rafe nods, a smile breaking out on his face just at the thought of getting to have you bare. “im clean too.”

“what are you waiting for then?”

rafe is quick to finish undressing you, practically drooling when he sees your tits, teased so long by only getting to see them underneath sweaters and tshirts, teased by sneaking peeks while you were busy studying or deep in thought.

he takes a moment to press a kiss to each of your nipples, watching them bloom underneath the touch, but he will have all the time in the world to focus on them later as he moves to undressing himself, pushing his shorts and underwear down in one quick movement.

“oh.” your eyes widen when you see rafes cock for the first time.

“ill be gentle.” rafe says, pulling your thong down your thighs. “promise.”

“okay.” you nod, allowing yourself to relax as you rest against against the bed, feeling the way rafe positions himself until your eyes blink open and see his face hovering above yours.

“what?” you ask, suddenly feeling shy as you blush.

“nothing. you're just beautiful.” rafe bends down to kiss you at the same moment his cock presses against your entrance, his lips keeping you distracted from tensing up as he slowly pushes in, being as gentle as he possibly can with his length until he's seated fully inside of you.

“you're so-” rafe gasps out. “warm and wet.”

“of course im wet.” you giggle. “wanted this for so long.”

“wish i would have stopped trying to be the perfect friend and just did this earlier.” rafe shakes his head with a slight laugh. “you- you feel amazing.”

“you can move.” you nod to rafe.

he keeps his movements slow and steady, watching your face as he does, fully focused on just your pleasure.

“faster, it's okay.” you tell rafe, hands gripping his shoulders as he begins to move, hips swinging in faster, meeting yours in a loud slap until it's clear to everyone outside of the room exactly what is happening.

your moans grow as well until you're making constant noises, drowned out past the door by the music pumping through the speakers. rafe swears the way you sound right now is better than any other song.

he drops a hand to your pussy, shifting his weight onto one elbow as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing over it as he learns what you like, watching the way your face twists and contorts in pleasure.

“gonna-gonna cum.” you warn.

“im close too.” rafe says. he could have cum the moment he pushes inside you, but he's been waiting for you to be ready to release, wanting to meet your highs at the same time.

“inside me, rafe.” you don't want him to pull out, you want to feel what it's like to have him release inside of you.

he nods rapidly, breathing deeply as he focuses on your clit, ignoring the swelling of his cock until your head tips back and pussy tightens, and then he crumbles.

--

you never end up using your iou. not when you go back to college and you rope him into helping you study late at night. 

not even when planning your wedding where rafe jokes about you using it to have your first dance song be to taylor swift, but he concedes and agrees without you needing to use it.

not when you're raising your child together and you want to dress your daughter up in a pink bunny costume for easter, while rafe wants her in a more traditional dress.

you never need to use it when you want rafe to kiss you, to hold you, to make love to you, because that's exactly what he wants to be doing anyways.

[strlingsav]

Idek if you will see this but i been reading your work and its amazing!! You’re genuenly so talented in writing. but could you maybe do a fic on Ghost and y/n jus having a steamy makeout sesh, don’t matter the context or backstory but just to include a lot of kissing. 🫣🫣

Thank you! 🤍 I can definitely do this!! Steamy make-outs are underrated.

Alone

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— You're left alone with Johnny's friend Simon.

Johnny had offered to help you move over the weekend, offering Simon's help too, in exchange for a case of beer. You were happy to oblige, eager for the extra help and a chance to see Simon again.

Johnny talked a lot about him. It was a given; they worked so closely together, and near-death experiences could really bring people together. You'd grown to know Simon through Johnny, enough to find yourself attracted to the brooding man.

Aside from your developing crush, you were glad Johnny had someone watching his back. Someone that seemed reliable and trustworthy. It was part of the reason why you'd so quickly accepted Simon's help. The way Johnny spoke of him only had you even more intrigued. Every story he told let you piece Simon together, bit by bit. You were starting to take interest in the puzzle of a man.

He was quiet, not much of a talker and his humour was dry. Most people would be off-put by his demeanour, but you liked it. Being so close with Johnny meant that sometimes, a break from the incessant talking was nice. Enjoyable even.

"Just leave it there, I can take it to my room," You said, waving your hand to dismiss Johnny carrying a large box full of sheets and blankets.

"You sure?" He asked, his brow quirked as he lowered it.

"Yeah, yeah," You replied. "It's not heavy. Won't need it tonight anyways."

Johnny nodded, leaving the box on the floor before joining you at the kitchen island.

You handed him a beer, taking a sip of the one in your hand.

"Thanks again," You said.

"Not a problem. Simon's done most of the work anyways."

"I expected as much," You hid your grin.

"Y'can find someone else to move your shite then," He scowled, moving around to sit on the chair. "You like it here?"

"It's not bad. Roomy. Only a few minutes from work."

You sat on the sofa, curling your feet up under you.

"Aye," He nodded. "Better than the last."

Simon stepped out of the spare room, rolling his shoulders before settling beside you.

"'S'all moved in there," He said, lifting his arm to the back of the couch.

"Thanks," You smiled softly. "Let me grab you a beer."

You came back with a beer in hand, passing it to him before sitting back down.

"Cheers," He nodded.

You looked around the room, still cluttered with boxes and random items you'd have to find a home for. Your head fell back, groaning softly.

"I still have a ton of shit to do."

"Wish I could stay an' help," Johnny said, setting down his empty beer. "I've got myself a dinner with my maw. I can stop by after."

"It's alright. I'll stay up and get it done before Monday."

"Maybe Simon could help ya?" Johnny's eyes shifted to Simon, who swallowed a sip of beer.

You avoided Johnny's gaze, knowing he'd be staring at you as your cheeks flushed, suspecting something of your bashful reaction. He'd sensed the attraction between the two of you; you were both too stubborn and proud to admit it.

Simon breathed in, "No plans tonight. If you need the help-"

"You really don't have to," You insisted, your eyes locking with his.

"Don't mind."

Johnny watched the interaction with a small smirk, enjoying the discomfort he created. You sighed, turning to Johnny with wide eyes and an expression that read, 'I'm going to murder you'.

"That's really nice of you," You smiled. "I'll owe you one."

Johnny left not long after, leaving yourself and Simon to unpacking the many boxes left in your living room.

It was silent between the two of you, hardly satiated by the quiet sound of the music in the background. You glanced over every so often, amused by the sight of him hunched over on your floor, rummaging through a box of plates and cutlery.

"Thanks again." Your voice was louder than anticipated, shattering the silence. "For staying to help."

He looked up at you, expressionless, though his eyes softened.

"Not much to do when I'm home," He said. "Beer and company ain't bad."

You nodded- a small smile crawled over you face as you tried not to read too much into his simple statement. You turned back to the box, taking a soft breath in.

"Johnny talks about you a lot," You said.

"He's a good mate."

"Seems to think the same of you."

"You known each other long?"

"Since college."

Silence ascended again, busying yourself with tidying and unpacking.

You blew out a harsh breath, looking over the array of boxes, half-opened around the cluttered living room.

"Don't think this'll be done by Monday," You huffed. "Let's just call it."

Simon smiled, not enough that you'd noticed, but he was amused.

He'd accepted Johnny's offer in hopes of spending more time with you. He despised civilian life. He didn't know how to function in a world without gunfire or imminent death. Despite that, he was okay doing mind-numbing tasks if he could sit and talk to you.

Part of him knew he owed Johnny a thanks for giving the two of you time together, though the other wanted to kill him for putting him on the spot.

You stood up, Simon following, and your foot caught on the nearest box. Simon's hand reached out to steady you, grabbing hold of your bicep before you fell forward.

"Y'alright?"

You nodded. Though inside, you could swear there was a tidal wave of nerves igniting with heat at the touch of his hand.

You stepped around the box, grabbing another couple beers from the fridge.

You rested your back against the island, sipping slowly, your eyes following Simon as he stood across from you. Your fingers nervously tapped the bottle, rhythmic, soothing- it didn't seem to work.

"You- um," You spoke up again. "You like this music?"

He could tell you were grasping at straws, looking for anything to fill the awkward silence. He wasn't one for idle chatter, and he didn't mind the silence, but he could tell his presence had you on edge. He knew you were trying to cover up the nervous habits you had; chewing your lip, bouncing your knee.

"Not bad," He nodded.

"Do you like being in the army?"

He furrowed his brows at the sudden subject change, an amused smile forming across his lips.

"That what you really want to ask me? 'Bout my work?"

"Just making conversation," You shrugged.

"Yeah, it's alright," He tilted his head. "You always so nervous makin' conversation?" He'd struck a nerve; your eyes flashed to his, wide and unblinking.

"Not really," You smiled. "Not really sure how to talk to you," You breathed out.

"I make you nervous?" He set the beer down beside him, moving slowly, predator-like as he inched toward you.

"You make everyone nervous," You teased.

It was a pathetic reach for comfort, for something to ease the building tension in your stomach as he stood before you.

"Don't think that's the case here," His lips were parted, stillness in the air. "You have somethin' else you wanna ask me, sweetheart?" He had his hands planted on the counter, trapping you within the confines of his body.

Sweetheart. The word rolled off his tongue, soft, smooth- it nearly made you melt. Your jugular pounded in your throat- he was flirting with you.

"Do you want another beer?"

He chuckled, low and dry. His head shook, before his eyes landed on yours.

"Would y'let me kiss you?"

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, your heart threatening to jump out of your throat, palms tacky with sweat.

"Yes," You said, barely above a whisper, void of any tone, focused solely on his lips as he brought himself even closer.

His lips touched yours softly, hardly enough to feel, though it created sparks in your abdomen. He was gentle, creating a fleeting touch that made you chase after his lips when he pulled back.

Your eyes opened to find his, searching your face, appreciating the flush on your skin, the lust-filled glaze over your eyes.

He didn't hesitate this time, his lips making firm contact with yours, still apprehensive but savouring how good you felt against him. He let out a satisfied but restrained sigh, basking in the utter pleasure, while his hand mindlessly moved to your waist, delicately holding on, pulling you just a bit closer.

You had to crane your neck, nearly stand on your toes to reach him, your wobbly disposition worsening when forced to balance yourself.

He noticed, pulling away and lifting you swiftly onto the countertop. You parted your thighs, making room for his torso, accepting him closer than before.

Your lips reconnected, feverish and greedy as you devoured the bitterness and surprising softness on his lips. For an army man, he had miraculously smooth lips, addictive and warm.

His hand held onto your waist, the other resting on the top of your thigh, holding you close, aching for the feel of your body under his grip. They engulfed you, swallowed you whole, erased any other thoughts aside from the heat swarming inside you.

Your own hands had travelled around his shoulders, feeling the taught muscles surrounding his neck, your palms gliding up to lay against the nape of his neck. He was solid- strong and authoritative-it made your stomach churn with excitement.

Your tongue grazed his bottom lip, a teasing stroke that made his grip tighten. Your back arched into him, letting your tongue caress his lip until he reciprocated, gliding his against yours.

Like lighting a match, the sparks in your body lit up, creating a burn in your stomach.

His hand slid down past your hip, grabbing a handful of your ass as he pulled you off the counter to his hips. You inadvertently wrapped your legs around him, still moving your lips against his as he walked past the pile of boxes to lie you down on the couch.

He towered over you, removing the restrictive jacket he had on, his biceps flexing as he yanked them from the sleeves. Your gaze moved to see the tattoos covering his arms, the way his T-shirt fit so perfectly over his well-worked muscles.

He, in turn, had his eyes glued to you. Your hair splayed out on the pillow, your swollen lips now red with irritation, your eyes in the dim light of the room, how the baggy T-shirt you wore fell taught against your breasts when you breathed in. He could see the swell of your breasts, your perked nipples through the white fabric, and when you reached to grasp his shoulders, he felt heat travel to his groin.

His hands trailed from your hips, diving beneath your shirt to feel your smooth skin, the dip between your ribs. A bit further up, he ran teasing fingers over your breasts, eliciting a quiet gasp from your parted lips.

"Simon," You whispered, a fleeting announcement of pleasure that echoed in his head.

"Bloody hell," He said, low and guttural. "You been drivin' me mad, love."

You grinned, "That so?" You quipped, eager to learn more.

"Since I met you."

You hummed with satisfaction, sitting up to press your lips against his, to wrap your hand around his neck and pull him into you. He chuckled into your lips, his hand settling above you on the couch.

Your eyes drifted shut, toes curling with the feeling of his lips leaving soft kisses across your neck, before he reached your lips again.

He pushed his torso further between your thighs, unintentionally grinding his pelvis against yours. You moaned softly into his mouth, nipping at the plump flesh of his lip. He breathed out, his hips driving into yours, hitting just the right angle to grind against your clit. Your whimpers against his mouth had his cock hardening against you.

"I don't have any condoms," You said shyly, a blush creeping up your neck.

"Eager, are you?" He leaned in, his nose gently nudging your head aside so he could kiss the smooth skin of your neck. "'S'alright- rather take you out 'fore any o'that."

His body was flush with yours, lips connecting with unbroken ferventness. Your hands pulled against his shirt, forcing him into your body, holding him hostage.

"Y'make it real difficult to wait, sweetheart."

Your eyes brows crested, yearning for him, in his entirety.

"Sorry," You sighed. "Better take me to dinner soon."

A knock at your apartment door made your heads turn. It must've been Johnny, back from dinner.

"Open up, kid."

[mickmundy]

scout's ma headcanon thread! she was requested by a couple of people and i'm having a burst of inspiration for her so without further ado, let's get to it! i hope you like!

absolutely not your average "housewife"! there's lots of professions i entertain her having (hair/nail salon worker, waitress/bartender, something Generally Unassuming for a woman in the 70s to have as a job)… all intentionally mundane, but serving useful purpose in her life! good for keeping tabs on things around the city, sussing people out and potentially letting spy know any hot goss! these are just day jobs; she gets her thrills elsewhere!

knows everything happening everywhere, anytime. spy learned lots of his intuition-based skills from her! any time spy thinks he knows everything, she always has something in her back pocket that he doesn't! >:)

has a VERY contagious laugh that you can hear miles away. she loves being loud! will clap you really hard on your back or slam her hand on the table when she laughs.

can hold her liquor better than anyone around! doesn't like to get sloppy, but that doesn't mean she doesn't from time to time! loves drinking beer, but will always enjoy a nice glass of wine with her beloved spy! :-) wouldn't/doesn't care if scout is lgbt+ lol. it's absolutely not a big deal to him to come out to her, either. he knows his ma means it when she says she loves him no matter what! she will occasionally hit him with "well ya better bring somebody home to meet me sometime!" (loud laughter)

i think she'd be more financially well-off than her home leads one to believe; she's good at stashing and moving around spy's cash! her apartment is humble but she always looks immaculate. doesn't let scout know how much money she really has. very financially savvy and an incredible negotiator… even if it means getting a little ugly! used car salesman tremble in her presence!

fights like a scorned gambler who's owed a debt. won't let you know she can fight, though! likes it when people think she's just some dainty dame.

is a material girl, but knows what really matters. fell in love with spy before he was The Spy he is today and values loyalty and trust/honesty above all else. some might think that's ironic considering her partner of choice, but she'll be quick to quip back with a snide/cheeky "of course that's what you think! you only know the mask!"

breaking balls is her love language. she'll tease you, but never maliciously. this is also scout's, and one of spy's, languages of love too.

always trying to feed you. "put some more meat on your bones! it's good for ya!" (pops gum and winks at you) while i think she no doubt is well-versed in the lifestyle that spy leads, she's not Directly "in-it" like spy is. not an agent of any kind herself, but gives spy a hand when she can. knows how to shoot a gun and wield a kitchen knife!

grew up dirt poor and has "a champagne taste on a beer budget". high standards, takes no guff, won't hesitate to put you in your place. this (and many other reasons) is why spy loves her :-)

very charismatic, knows how to lie, but also how to be sincere. is genuinely a good mother to her boys, who love her in return. they're all protective of her even though they know they don't have to be; she has no problem sticking up for herself!

spy was not her first husband, but he's her favorite! she loves him very much, and he loves her. they aren't exes, they're happily together, and have an open relationship.

she knows all of the mercs (some better than others ofc!) and won't hesitate to talk their ears off when she visits the base, armed with embarrassing photos and stories about spy and scout that make them both groan and the mercs holler with laughter!

she picks out spy's suits for/with him. she's the only one spy would ever trust to dress him other than himself! they always look great together and accessorize around each other.

she does not tell scout about who his father is. not because she doesn't want to, but she knows the nature of spy's job and knows "the business" from being around him for all this time; it's the best thing to keep scout and herself (also spy!) safe. i think scout would be angry at first, but once it's explained to him, he'd understand. ma knows best!

spy taught her how to walk in heels and does things like painting her nails for her all the time. he always makes sure she has enough money for a well-deserved spa day, but if she knows he's coming to town, she'll let her nails get a little busted up so spy can paint them for her!

she loves to look at spy and sigh a fond "ugh, i could just kill you!" while smirking/bating her eyes at him after/as he showers her with gifts and other wonderful things… to which spy chuckles and hums lovingly and replies with "mhmhmm, ma petite chou fleur, if anyone could, it would be you. <3" and they give each other the most Loving Look.. :')

she's younger than spy but not by much. they met while she was a waitress in a diner in boston while spy was on a mission to assassinate a target in the city early in his career (when his suits were still cheap.. <3). he hides in the diner after a particularly fiery shootout and his pursuers come into the place. she recognizes him as the Quiet Gentleman who has been coming in for coffee in the mornings to enjoy with a cigarette. covers for him and spy never forgets her kindness and quick wit. he comes back after the mission ends and, with his payout from the job, treats her to a romantic night and promises to see her again. no matter how far away spy goes, he always returns to her! she has more faith in him than he deserves (so he says), to which she smirks and straightens his (now expensive <3) suit tie and places a kiss on his balaclava's cheek and says "we both know i only deserve the best." and winks at him and he smiles at her and hums in agreement.. kisses her hand… siigh.. this is a massively condensed "origin story" for them lol but! AH I LOVE THEM

AHH I HAVE SO MANY MORE THOUGHTS BUT FOR NOW.... i will leave with all of this... HEHE TYSM for reading! ^__^ i hope you enjoy ehe!!

[kiwi-and-pigeon]

About that beer I owed ya!

[lambtotheslaughterr]

Rise : Finale

A Rafe Cameron Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4.7k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN | MASTERLIST

authors note*: don't come for my head. i did it for the drama.

            Your body moved with the rhythm of the club music flowing throughout the party. Rush week had ended & you had been selected to join Alpha Delta Pi. It meant moving out of your stuffy dorm room & into the extravagant sorority house. Having been selected alongside you was a girl from your class who you had made close friends with. Her name was Millie & she was just as excited as you.

            That night, you two dressed to celebrate & party all along Greek row. Even now, the two of you danced with one another, big smiles on your faces & alcohol coursing your system. At some point, after accumulating a good amount of sweat, you were going to head to the kitchen to get some water. You turned to ask Millie if she wanted any but when you had you were greeted by the sight of her dancing with another.

            “What’s your name?” The guy yelled at Millie over the bass music.

            “Millie!” She bit her lip, obviously smitten by his good looks.

            “I’m Micah!”

            The two of them danced & Millie looked in total bliss that you decided to leave her alone. Instead, you headed for the kitchen to satiate your thirst for h20. The kitchen was no different from the rest of the house—filled to the brim with people.

            You managed to slither your away between other party-goers towards a chest in the corner. But when you opened it, all you found was cans & bottles of beer. Not wanting to get trapped in the kitchen much longer, you ended up deciding on a can of cider that had low alcohol percentage. It was still early in the night & you didn’t want to black out so soon. Until you got your hands on some water, this would have to do.

            Exiting the kitchen, you were about to head back towards the dance floor in the main room when a door in the hallway busted open, hitting you in the shoulder. Your can of cider spilled to the floor & others around you boo’d at the action.

            “Oh, shit. Sorry.” A guy said, the one who had been coming out of the bathroom, having hit you with the door.

            You laughed half-heartedly, seeing it as a sign from the universe to just not drink right then. Instead, you glanced up at the guy & shrugged, “Just means you owe me another drink in twenty minutes.”

            He smirked at that, “I can do you one better.”

            “That so?” You cocked your head. He was cute. Frat boy cute for sure. You didn’t doubt he was a member of one of the frats on Greek row.

            He gestured for you to join him in the bathroom. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him. You may have been a young & new freshman, but you weren’t naïve.

            “Scared?”

            You bit your lip at that. He was challenging you & you were never one to back down.

            Giving him a playful sneer, you ultimately joined him in the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You watched as he locked the door. That should’ve alarmed you, yet it didn’t.

            “So, what do ya got?” You questioned, your arms crossed over your chest.

            The guy reached into the pocket of his unbuttoned shirt & revealed a small baggie of white powder.

            “Only the best for Greek row residents.” He smirked, turning slightly away from you to pour some out onto the counter before separating & lining up the powder.

            ���Ever done it?” He asked. With the better lighting in the bathroom, you were able to notice then how high he was. His eyes were bloodshot & his hands shook slightly.

            “No.” You admitted. There had been plenty of opportunities in the past to partake in the party drug, you just never did.

            “Well?” He straightened then, offering you a rolled up fifty dollar bill, “It’s better than whatever crap you were drinking. I guarantee that.”

            You pursed your lips in thought, staring at the coke on the counter. You had never been particularly interested in getting into drugs, even for fun, having been satisfied with drinking & smoking weed occasionally. But you were in college now. More so, you had been accepted to the sorority of your choice & this was a night of celebration. A night about embarking on new journey’s & trying new things. High school you & college you would be two different people.

            Snagging the rolled up bill from the guy, you brought it to your nose & leaned over the counter. Instead of snorting one line, you did all three in a matter of seconds.

            “Oh, holy shit.” He exclaimed behind you, an impressed smile on his face, “Hell fuckin’ yeah.”

            You stood up straight, feeling the fine grains of the power in the back of your throat & how the chalky taste of the power began to make your mouth feel a little numb.

            “Right on, dude.” He raised his hand for a high five, “A kindred spirit.”

            You laughed at that, slapping his palm with your own.

            “I’m Rafe.” He finally introduced, “Rafe Cameron.”

            He looked at you with stars in his eyes but you were pretty positive it was the coke fueling his mind that was causing it. You smiled back up at him, “I’m _____ _____.”

            “Well, _____ _____.” He slung his arm over your shoulder & peered at you in the mirror, “I think we just became good friends.”

            “I couldn’t agree more.”

            You cracked your eyes. They were wet. You had been crying in your sleep. You were lying in a room you didn’t fully recognize. The window outside brought in the morning sunlight. A shudder racked your body. The events of last night flooding back to you.

            Micah. Rafe. They had found you.

            You felt so stupid. So fucking stupid to think they wouldn’t make it this far, let alone think to find you at the frat house. It was the last time you’d underestimate Rafe & his determination to possess you in every way.

            Rolling over, you espied the rest of the room. It finally clicked on whose room you were in. You had only ever been in Rafe’s bedroom at the frat a handful of times. But you recognized it.

            You were alone in the room so you sat up & as you did you winced. Your head pounded & your face hurt.

            Memories of Micah’s fist returned.

            “Asshole.” You whispered. Scooting towards the edge of the bed, you went to the window & looked out. Rafe’s bedroom overlooked the front yard & parked in front of the house was Sayyed’s wrangler.

            They had traveled all that way just to track you down. It had taken you two weeks to get there, but Rafe & Micah only a day. How long had they been waiting for you? How did they even know to wait so long?

            You should’ve never stopped. Should have kept moving south towards Tampa. Rafe didn’t know where you lived there.

            It dawned on your then that Bear was in the wind. You would never see him again & you knew he wouldn’t come back for you. You couldn’t blame him. It was survival.

            The door behind you opened & you slowly turned around.

            Fear left you entirely. You felt your spirit & will weaken after the previous night. Rafe had won. There was no fight in you left.

            Rafe closed the door behind him, staring at you expressionlessly. You returned it.

            “How are you feeling?”

            You said nothing. Felt nothing. Only remained standing there lifeless.

            “I brought you something for the pain.”

            Rafe crossed the room towards you. You watched him the whole time, your eyes never leaving him. He was standing just before you, holding a small metal tray. On the tray was white powder.

            You looked back up at him.

            He returned your stare, holding the tray before you.

            With a flick of your hand, you knocked the tray out of his hand, coke billowed into the air before sprinkling to the floor near your feet.

            Rafe sighed heavily, his eyes darkening.

            “I’m trying to help you, _____.”

            But you only eyed him unfeelingly.

            He held your stare & the longer he did the angrier he grew.

            “Fine.” His tone was hard, “Guess we’ll do this the hard way.”

            A yelp escaped you when he fisted your hair in his hand as he dragged you towards the door. You wriggled in grasp, trying to lessen the pain but otherwise did not fight. Rafe slammed his bedroom door open before turning you towards the end of the hallway then he slammed open the door to Sayyed’s bedroom.

            “I haven’t broken you.” He gritted out through his teeth, “But I will.”

            With that he threw you down onto your deceased boyfriend’s bed. You rolled onto your back & glared up at him. Rafe seethed as he watched you lie fearlessly on the bed before him.

            “You killed him.”

            It took a second for you to absorb what he was saying. You killed who?

            Rafe, with a growl on his face, bent at the waist to become eye level with you. He snatched the picture of you & Sayyed off the nightstand, practically shoving it into your face, “It wasn’t the virus.”

            You felt yourself shake.

            “It was you.”

            “You’re lying…” You finally spoke, your voice hoarse. Unwilling tears clouded your vision as Rafe glared maddeningly at you.

            But he only shook his head knowingly, a devious smirk lacking any merriment appearing on his face.

            “You held a gun to his head.” Rafe stood up & reached into the backside of his pants, “Like this.”

            The cool metallic feeling of the muzzle pressed against your forehead. You felt your heart quicken as your breathing slowed.

            “And pulled the trigger.”

            “No.” Tears fell as you glared up at Rafe, past the gun, “I didn’t.”

            “Don’t you remember?” Rafe teased harshly, “Don’t you remember Sayyed telling you it was okay? That he fucking loved you?”

            “I love you, _____.”

            Sayyed’s face appeared before you in your memory. He was on his knees. A gun was in your hand. You stared at one another.

            More tears burst forth from you as the memory returned like a long forgotten foggy dream.

            “For Bear.”

            “I can’t.”

            “You can."

            More tears burst from you as the memory surrounding your boyfriend’s death returned to you. The emotions you felt then returning with a vengeful spirit.

            “I have nothing anymore.”

            “You have me.”

            “I love you, _____.” Sayyed looked into your eyes one last time.

            “You.”

            And then the trigger pulled.

            “NO!” You screamed out as the memory came back fully. You jumped backwards on the bed as if you had shot him just then & there & the kick sent you flying.

            “No, no, no!” You cried.

            You killed Sayyed. Your face with a gun in your hand against his head was the last thing he saw, felt. You killed your boyfriend. Not the virus. Sayyed didn’t deserve to die. But you… you did. And with your memory restored, you couldn’t stand to live with yourself.

            “I wanted to protect you from the truth.” Rafe’s voice sounded; you having forgotten he was even there. But it did nothing to comfort you. All it did was fuel your rage. And determination.

            Flying towards him, Rafe was not expecting you to shoulder him hard enough to drop the gun. The gun barely touched the floor before you snagged it & raised it upwards.

            Rafe barely had time to recover before he realized what you were doing.

            “_____, no!” Rafe screeched, racing towards you.

            You brought the gun to your head, your heart hammering to life.

            Then pulled the trigger.

            “What the fuck?!” Rafe screamed as he tore the gun away from you.

            You screamed & cried as you fell to your knees.

            Rafe spun away from you, securing the gun in his hold.

            The safety had been on. The fucking safety.

            “Are you fucking crazy?!” Rafe yelled, his heart practically pounding out of his chest as he rushed to empty the gun of bullets.

            “What the fuck were you thinking?!”

            But you could only cry & scream, filled with anger.

            The door to the room burst open & Micah appeared. He stared wide-eyed between the two of you, “What the hell’s going on?”

            “She tried to fucking kill herself!” Rafe threw the gun to the side as he paced back & forth.

            You held your head in your hands, shaking & sobbing uncontrollably.

            “You should’ve let her.” Micah mumbled. “Just like Kai did.”

            Rafe jumped him then. He shoved Micah against the closest wall & had his forearm pressed against his throat, “Get the fuck out, Micah. Now!”

            Micah shoved him off, glaring heatedly between the two of you before Rafe pushed him out of the room. Once it was the two of you again, Rafe turned towards you, his chest heaving.

            “I can’t believe you would fucking do that.”

            You continued to cry but finally glanced up at him, “You should’ve let me.”

            “No!” Rafe yelled & he stomped towards you before harshly grabbing you by the upper arms, “You are never leaving me. Ever again.”

            You glared at him, your face sneering, “I’d rather die than be with you.”

            Rafe roared at that, throwing you back onto Sayyed’s bed.

            “You fucking stubborn bitch!” He yelled.

            You had no time to recover before Rafe was on top of you, tearing your clothes off you. He was a mad man.

            “I will never be yours, Rafe!” You screamed as you fought pitifully against him. “You hear me!”

            But Rafe only continued to fight against you as he got you naked beneath him.

            “I will never stop trying to run, never stop trying to escape you, & I will fucking kill myself the second I have the chance to! I will never love you!”

            Rafe hit you then, “Shut the fuck up!”

            Your face flared with heat at Rafe’s assault.

            Before you knew it, Rafe was between your legs, your wrists in either of his hands as he forced himself inside you.

            You turned your face away, staring hard at the wall. But Rafe gripped the back of your head & forced you to look at him. He was thrusting harshly into you, his teeth bared & gritted as he glared furiously down at you.

            You returned the glare ten-fold, steeling yourself against the pain that was blooming in your center & reverberating up your spine as Rafe raped you. There were tears in his eyes, mirroring your own, but they were not tears of anger. They were tears of fear. You had nearly killed yourself right before him. It was the first time you had seen Rafe Cameron scared.

            And that’s when you knew how to punish him for everything he had done to you & your friends. Killing yourself had initially been for selfish reasons, unable to live with yourself after remembering that it was you who killed Sayyed. But you quickly learned one thing about Rafe Cameron that had been right before you all that time. You had the power. Not him.

            The only way you could make him pay for what he did was to take away what he desired most. You.

            And it would be an honor to kill yourself before him. You swore to yourself, yet again, that the moment an opportunity presented itself, you would make sure Rafe Cameron would witness his biggest fear. And you would die with a smile on your face.

            That opportunity came in the most unexpected form. But it shouldn’t have been a surprise.

            It was the middle of the night & you hadn’t slept a wink. Rafe had left you hours ago, coming to check on you every now & then. He had tied you to the headboard of Sayyed’s bedframe. The three of you would be leaving in the morning, going back to the mill where the rest of Rafe’s crew waited. Except for Kai.

            Rafe attempted to break you down further by informing you that Kai had killed himself. You briefly recalled Micah having mentioned it earlier but thought nothing of it. You thought nothing of it still.

            Kai, as sweet as he once had been, was weak. He was weak against Rafe & all the others. He stood by while Micah & Rafe tortured you. He was as bad as the rest of them. The only good thing he did was take himself out. You could not grieve for him. All your grief had shifted to rage & rage was all that kept you going.

            So, as you sat there in the darkened bedroom, you stared mindlessly ahead. You thought of nothing except revenge. Thought nothing except killing yourself before Rafe’s very eyes. You were only disappointed would not be alive to see him lose his fucking mind about it. But he would. And that was all you needed to keep your eyes on the goal.

            Footfalls sounded outside of the door & you prepared yourself for Rafe to appear. But it wasn’t Rafe. It was Micah.

            He stood staring at you for a moment before he crossed over to the bed.

            You could feel his hatred for you rolling off him in waves but it did not scare you. Micah may have scared you once before. But no longer. He was just Rafe’s lapdog. Nothing more, nothing less.

            Yet, it was Micah who began to undo the ties around your wrists. You watched him as finished untying the knots before gripping your upper arm harshly & dragging you off the bed.

            “Don’t even think about fighting.”

            You weren’t. Micah, as dark as he was on the inside, was your golden opportunity. He would be your key to punishing Rafe.

            Micah led you out of the bedroom & towards the stairs. You anticipated him bringing you to the living room or kitchen of the house where Rafe would surely be waiting, but he only led you out the back door. The rear lawn of the frat house was sizeable with a pool but beyond that was a small acreage of woods. That is where Micah began to lead you in the dark.

            “I’ve dreamt about this for so long.” Micah voiced besides you as he led you over rocks & uneven soil.

            “And now that you’re wanting to do to yourself what I’ve fantasized about forever…”

            You said nothing. Where was Rafe?

            As if reading your thoughts, Micah shared, “He’s passed out. Found an old stash of his roofie’s from our freshman days. Dropped one in his drink. Lights out. Had to make sure he was passed out cold before I could grab you.”

            No. Rafe had to be there. You couldn’t let it happen until Rafe saw it with his own eyes. But you clearly knew why Micah couldn’t allow that. Rafe would kill him before he ever let Micah hurt you.

            Micah was ruining everything!

            You struggled against his grasp then & Micah gripped you harder, his fingernails digging into your skin, pinching painfully.

            “Micah.” You breathed out, “Don’t do this. Not yet.”

            “Not yet?” He guffawed at that, laughing half-heartedly though there was no amusement there, “You just tried to kill yourself & now you want me to wait.”

            “Please, not like this. It can’t be like this!” You seethed out.

            The two of you reached a small clearing then & Micah yanked you closer to him to glare down at you in the darkness. It was difficult to make out his features but you didn’t miss the deadly glint in his eyes.

            “This isn’t about you, _____.” Micah spit, “I don’t give a fuck about any grand scheme you had to kill yourself. This is about what I want. Not you. Not Rafe. Me.”

            Micah pulled out his gun then & placed it under your chin. For the first time in months, for the first time since the world ended, Micah smiled.

            “Say goodnight, _____.”

            “Goodnight.” You replied coldly before slamming your face against his.

            Micah would not kill you. That was saved solely for you & solely for Rafe to witness. That was one thing you would make sure of.

            Micah howled at your unexpected assault & reeled backwards. You quickly charged at him, uncaring of the gun. Though you had fucked up & missed the safety only hours prior, you hadn’t heard Micah click the safety off. This would be your only chance.

            Using the full force of your weight, you tackled Micah to the ground. Had he been any muscular you wouldn’t have succeeded, but Micah had always been a twig.

            A grunt forced it’s way out of his throat when he finally caught on to what was happened. He moved to raised his hand with the gun but you quickly sunk your teeth into his forearm, tearing a piece of flesh off.

            “Ahh!” Micah wailed, “You fucking bitch!”

            He hit you with the butt of his gun but your adrenaline kept you unfeeling of it as you quickly brought your thumbs to his eyes & sunk them in. Micah dropped the gun then, finally, as he screeched. You dug your thumbs further in, feeling his sockets squish around you.

            Micah knocked you off him then & you fell to the side. Closest to the gun. He rolled to his knees, wiping at his eyes & you quickly snatched the gun before rolling onto your back to face him. He was facing you then. His eyes red & bloodied as he narrowed his eyes in the darkness.

            “You fucking bitch, I shoulda killed you the first chance I got!”

            Shoulda, coulda, woulda.

            “Hey, Micah.” You breathed out firmly, clicking the safety off the gun.

            He swung in your direction, his vision likely fucked after your assault on his eyes. He blinked rapidly as he focused on you in the dark.

            “Say ‘hi’ to Millie for me.”

            Then you fired three shots into his chest. Micah collapsed to the ground immediately. As he fell, you stood.

            You continued to aim the gun towards him as he writhed on the ground in pain. Standing over him, you peered down at him in the darkness. Blood spurted from between his lips & coated his teeth & chin as he choked on his own blood.

            Micah’s eyes glared up into your own. You could tell he was wanting to say something but was unable to. You simply stared back.

            Then you pointed the gun at his face & fired five more times.

            The forest was eerily quiet after that, save for the sound of your heavy breathing. You stared at Micah’s lifeless body, his face unrecognizable. Then you spit on him.

            “Asshole.”

            You glanced up at the sky hidden behind the treetops, releasing all the tension from your body. Tears spilled down your cheeks, but you felt almost at peace. Almost. There was still one life left to end.

            Releasing a breath of you, you spun on your heel, prepared to return to frat house, tie Rafe up, & wait for him to wake, but as you did, you halted immediately.

            Rafe stood before you, just on the edge of the clearing. He looked very awake.

            He cocked his head at you before his eyes fell to Micah’s body behind you.

            “You killed him.”

            “He deserved it.”

            Rafe nodded at that, apparently agreeing. Then his eyes fell to the gun in your hand, “It’s empty.”

            You followed his line of sight. You recalled the early days after the world ended when Adrianna taught all of you how to use, shoot, & clean guns. The one you carried in your hand could hold up to nine bullets. In your mind’s eyes, you quickly counted how many times you shot Micah, but couldn’t be entirely sure. Everything had happened so fast & you hadn’t been thinking ahead about saving a bullet for yourself.

            “Give me the gun, _____.” Rafe took a step towards you & you quickly looked back up at him.

            “There’s one left.”

            You raised it then, aiming it at Rafe.

            He stared hard-eyed at you, daring you to do it.

            “Don’t worry.” You mumbled, “It’s not for you.”

            But before you could turn the gun on yourself, Rafe, quick as flash, appeared before you, knocking the gun out of your hand & you to the ground.

            “No!” You screeched, wrestling against him.

            He attempted to clamber on top of you but you swiftly brought a knee up into hide side, effectively knocking the wind out of him. He collapsed onto one knee beside you & you quickly rolled away from him, the gun only a foot or two away. You were preparing to launch yourself towards it when you felt Rafe catch you by the ankle, yanking you backwards.

            “_____! Don’t!” He yelled behind you.

            You grunted, glancing over your shoulder at him as he caught his breath. You swiftly shot out your other leg, kicking him square in the face with the sole of your shoe. Rafe fell backwards & you shoved yourself forward towards the gun & away from Rafe.

            But just as your fingers grazed the grip of the gun, Rafe was clung to both of your legs & used your lower half to pull himself upwards. He grabbed a fistful of your hair for the umpteenth time that day & slammed your face into the forest floor. Blood filled your mouth as you felt your own teeth sink into your lips. But you couldn’t give up. Giving up would be the last thing you ever did.

            As soon as you felt Rafe crawl over your upper back, you threw your elbow backwards, hitting him directly in the ribs. He grunted above you but did not relent his hold on you. So you swung again & again, never giving him a chance to recover until he was forced to lift himself off you. In that brief second of a moment, you launched yourself forwards & felt the grip od the gun in the palm of your hand.

            You rolled onto your back, readying to bring to your head but before you could Rafe caught your hand with the sole of his boot & locked the arm that was holding the gun against the ground. You wailed frustratingly & attempting to kick at him but he easily angled his body away.

            Spit & blood collected on your chin as you hissed up at him.

            He bent at the knees, adding more pressure to your arm which you thought would surely snap if he bent any further. Rafe caught your chin in his hand then, is nails digging into your cheeks as you forced to look at him.

            “I told you, you’re never going to esca—”

            You threw your other hand upwards into a fist & socked him right in his testicles. Rafe inhaled sharply & grunted at the assault before he practically fell on top of you, his foot slipping off your arm.

            “_____!” He wheezed out as he used the remaining strength he had left to wrestle with your arm that held the gun.

            You managed to get the gun between your bodies as you both fought mercilessly for the grip of it. His fingers pried at your own & you used your shoulders to angle yourself as much as possible away from him. But Rafe wasn’t going down without a fight, & neither were you.

            The gun was in both yours & Rafe’s hands then. He held the bottom of the grip but it was your finger over the trigger.

            “_____! Don’t!”

            Tears of exhaustion forced themselves out of your eyes as you felt yourself losing grip on the gun. Both of your chests that were practically pressed against one another were preventing either of you from really succeeding in securing a hold on the gun. You could feel your fingers growing wet with sweat as the gun turned every which way between your bodies.

            With the last bit of effort, you attempted to slam your head into Rafe’s but he anticipated it. He lifted himself only slightly but it was enough for you to reaffirm your grip on the gun, yet hand was still covering yours as you did.

            Your heart, body, mind & soul raced to the finish line. You swore, your promised. This was the end for you. It had to be.

            Your fingers had yet to reach the trigger, slipping in the fight against Rafe.

            And before they could, the gun went off.

            Kai Combs

            2002-2023

            Micah Reed

            2001-2023

            Rafe Cameron

            2000-xxxx

            Reader

            2001-xxxx

the end.

i have finally finished the first part to my first full universe series The Day The World Ended.

as always, please share your thoughts via comments, reblogs w reviews, or dropping an ask. i already know ya'll are gonna have a lot to say & i can't wait to read about it.

thank you for reading & going on this journey with me! please be sure to read part two to The Day The World Ended series featuring reader x Ransom Drysdale.

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