#and like...let the bitch shuffle around the house a few weeks

[docholligay]

Genuinely and in all ways appreciate that they don’t make us spend time worrying about Nagi and Ginko. Doesn’t try to get us emotionally wrenched or anything, just, “this was briefly and mildly inconvenient”

PLease please do not spoil anything for me in your excitement. I don’t want to know anything! I don’t even want to know if something is a  cultural difference, or if you can’t wait for me to get to a part. If I  wonder about something, please don’t say stuff like “Just wait til…” You know what is great for all that? The discord! Which apparently has its own mushishi channel now, which must mean y’all are excited for it!  

[millerscoffee]

reader lives in jackson and is friends with tommy, so she sees joel relatively frequently, and they just DONT get along. the reader is young and she’s got a sharp tongue and cheek that irritates the shit out of joel, who shoots back just as much condescending insults. they literally can’t be in a room without getting into it. however, the reader does it for his attention (she’s got daddy issues), and joel doesn’t catch onto this until she’s knocking on his door at midnight because she can’t sleep and she needs him and she doesn’t know how to admit it. he pulls her in the house and absolute filth ensues. he makes her blow him and then they fuck. joel is smug and condescending the whole time, and reader just becomes a ragdoll. Size kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, creampie/breeding, the works PLEASE

you got it, anon! ✨ this was requested on @atticrissfinch's page too, go check it out! i love how the same request can elicit two different stories. i did my best not to read it before i finished this (it was as difficult as it sounds cos HOO BOI 😅🥵♡)

only daddy that'll walk the line

6.2k | joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: big mean dom!joel™️ lmao, alcoholism (reader's dad, but also drunk!joel for a second - **this is not in the smutty scenes**), parental abuse (verbal, it is brief), smut, age difference (joel is 56, reader is 18-early 20s - your choice), size kink, dirty talk (joel's a talker more than his usual grunty self), name calling (bitch, brat, slut, etc.), light praise kink & like- two pet names, ✨ degrading language and acts ✨, edging, choking/gagging, hair pulling, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, spitting kink!!!, spanking, oral (m receiving), no prepping the reader, brat tamer!joel, bratty reader, if i missed anything lmk

summary: based in jackson, you have the unfortunate predicament of being friends with tommy miller and hating his brother, joel – and you have no problem in letting either of them know that! until one night you are brought to joel's doorstep.

A/N: this is my first request! thank you! huzzah!! hopefully it's to your liking, nonnie. he's big mean dom!joel™️ but with a conscience yknow?? enjoy ♡ i did proofread this, but i wrote it over the course of a couple weeks. i did my best! lol

"Dude, what's his fucking problem!?"  You roll into the dining hall in a huff.  Shuffling to your seat for dinner, you slam your tray down and Maria gives you a combined look of worry and irritation at peace being compromised.

"Who, honey?"  Tommy asks, handing you a glass of water with an entertained grin because he's positive he knows just who you're talking about.

He'd seen the two of you go at each other's throats earlier in the day when you were trying to get by him on your way out the door.  His back was to you, and he all but ignored your request to get out of the way.  Causing you to shove past him, which ensued an argument between the two of you.  Which led you to both of you gunning each other with your words until you both left in a bad mood.

Joel had his back to you, his frame fully in the doorway as he spoke with a woman in town.  It started off slow: a few clearings of your throat, a slight nudge of his back.  No avail.

"Excuse me," you shouted, pushing at him again before he finally turned around quickly with his jaw ticked.

"Do you have any manners, Christ."  He said dry and muttered under his breath, but the lady made room for you and you nodded politely in her direction.

"Maybe if you weren't so fucking old, you could've heard me!"

"And watch your fuckin' mouth."

Joel turned his back to you, not giving you a moment to retort.  Conversation over. 

"This fucker," when you look up, you see Joel coming towards the table.  The sight of him gives you a set of shivers you can't explain.  Not complete disgust, but certainly not excitement.

"You really oughta keep better company," Joel tells his brother, sitting down beside him, he frames his entire body towards Tommy so he's sitting in a way to make you feel ignored.

"I'm right here, you know."  Your head is moving so you're in the line of his vision.

"Don't remind me.  Listen, this is a family dinner.  Go find your own."

A slap in the face would've hurt less.  Before Tommy or Maria had the chance to come to your defences – both of their mouths open ready to take up for you – you stood up, shoving your tray over to Joel.  So loud, other people turn their gaze to the four of you.

"Fuckin– eat up, then."

As you storm off to your house, you hear Tommy scold his older brother but you don't look back.

---

The next morning, your father wakes you up to the sound of his own yelling for you to come downstairs.  You'd been helping out Maria and Tommy to get your own place, or at least a shared one with people your age and to hear your dad's voice; whiskey-soaked and cruel, makes your stomach churn.

After slipping on your clothes for the day, you make it to the kitchen where he's sitting at the table and reeking from alcohol even from where you're standing.

"Didn't you hear me call you?"  His words were slurred and angry.

"Yes, I'm sorry."  It's such a difference from how you talk to other people, talk to Joel, for example.  Maybe because he's the last person you spoke to, but he's the first one who pops into your head during this interaction.  You sound meek, scared to say something wrong.  A stark difference from how you speak to Joel – abandoning all worries of punishment.  Almost like you wanted that from him.

"Fuckinbetterbe – hiccup – breakfast.  Now."  Your dad all but snaps his fingers and rage creeps up the back of your throat, biting your tongue so hard you break the surface layer.  A slight streak of blood coats your mouth, but you do as you're told.

This morning is kinder than others.  Your dad did not say thank you for the pancakes, you didn't get hit or debased too much.  You consider it a win.  Once you leave your house as soon as you can, Joel's chest hits your face as soon as you turn the corner.  The milliseconds seem long when you're met with the warmth and solidity of his chest, the scent of cedar and... whiskey?  It seemed too early, even for him, to be drinking and you shake off the unreasonable rationale that he should be treated differently than your father for the same behaviour.

You ignore the similarities of him and your father all together, actually.

"Watch where you're goin'," Joel's brows are knit together, which is normal for him, but you've never been this close to see his lips from this angle above you.  You almost say something out of the ordinary for the two of you, but you reel it in quickly.

"You're one to fuckin' talk.  Morning coffee smells a lot like alcohol.  Maybe I should tell Tommy about your habits."

"Does it ever hurt your head bein' a bitch all the time?"

"Not as bad as that hangover will be around noon.  Move."

You push past the large build in front of you with a clenched jaw, unable to be around him a second longer.  "Fuck you, Joel," you mutter for good measure on your way to Tommy and Maria's.

They'd given you safety on days when it seemed scarce, and showing up felt appropriate.  You were a little closer with Tommy than Maria.  He was able to listen to you without being too judgy, and you needed that.  The lack of safety piece was a lot like how your day started off.  You walk around to the back where Tommy's working on a new hobby and you sit in front of him, letting out a big sigh.

"Y'daddy givin' you trouble again?"

Typically when Tommy asks about your father he says it like this, but today it catches you off guard.  Confusion twists your mind, but you nod distractedly.  "Yea, he was drunk this morning.  Your brother, too."

You slide that one in fast.

Tommy fists through his hair, letting out a heavy exhale.  "Shit.  We both got trouble this mornin', I guess."

"Seems like it."

You're unusually quiet, looking at the ground more than anything.  It bugs you that Joel and your father have a similar quality to them.  That they both are up reaching for the bottle, but for Joel it's not a common occurrence and that makes you worried – an emotion you don't have for him that often, if you're being honest.  You don't think about his experiences that often.  But this is the first time, really, you've even seen Joel drunk like that.  You remember Tommy mentioning that he'd given up the stuff since Sarah's passing when everyone was around a fire one night sharing stories.

As if the dots connect in real time, you look over to Tommy who looks worried sick.

"He'll figure it out,"  you reassure, chewing the inside of your cheek before heading out.  You call behind you, "I'll be around."

You've never really been good at the whole 'being there for someone' thing.

~~

Later on, you find yourself in the mess hall again for the night's dinner and you catch Maria, Tommy, Joel, and Ellie all together and it feels weird to sit with them.  They're all laughing, Joel looks sobered up.  And it seems that Tommy didn't bring up the conversation the two of you shared.  They look like a happy family and twists a knot in your throat and the proverbial knife at your side.

"Can I please spend the night at Tommy and Maria's?  Please?"  Ellie is looking over at Joel with the sweetest expression, you snicker to yourself at how menacing she actually was.  It seemed to do the trick, though.  Joel's eyes flicker over to you, and it feels like you're being caught for something.  The look is inculpatory without you doing anything.  As if to say you are witnessing something too personal, a side of him not meant for you.  "Yeah, sure," his response to Ellie sounds distant.

This gives you no choice but to walk up to the scene, to sit down beside Maria.  She gives you a welcoming grin and makes space for you.  "What'd I miss?"  You look over to Ellie who's excited to see you, but Joel?  Not so much.  His eyebrows narrow down his face, suddenly more quiet than usual, even for him.  You set your sights back on Ellie who's telling you all of the cool things she's gonna do at her Uncle Tommy's and you flash a smile that lets her know you're listening.  Or at least trying.  It's hard when Joel isn't even initiating the usual conflict with each other.  More arguing than speaking.  And the fact it wasn't happening was off.

"That sounds like a blast...," you trail off, your chin in your hands.

"If you're not gonna listen to her, don't ask her questions."  Joel barks, eyes now solemnly black in your direction.  It makes you scared and delighted at once.  Like he was back to normal.  Your normal.

"I was listening to her?"  You retort, and everyone's quiet now.  Awkwardness filling the air as the two of you battle it out.  "Maybe if you weren't so drunk all the time you'd know the differen–"  "Hey, now."  Tommy chimes in, giving you a stern look of disapproval and you feel bad.  Reflective.  Joel wasn't drunk all the time, and you knew exactly why he was this morning.

You exhale, "I'm sorry," you nod in the direction of everyone but Joel and stand up from your seat, "enjoy your family time."

On your way back to your house, you catch a glimpse of a group of people your age.  People you'd grown up with, but they didn't acknowledge you and it digs the wound closer in.  You truly felt alone.  Like nothing fit, and maybe you didn't belong in Jackson but it wasn't like there were many choices to go to.

---

More times than not you sneak into your room.  Not because you are past a type of curfew, you were an adult.  It was more, you didn't want your dad to know you were around.  Your door was locked when you climbed in through the window.

You got comfortable, spilling out of your clothes for the day and into your pajamas.  Cotton shorts and a loose tee.  Your breasts perky and nipples taut from the worn fabric.  A lot of the day was spent dealing with heavy subjects that you just wanted to let your mind escape.

Staring at the ceiling in your bed, your eyes become blurry in need of sleep.  Needing release.  Anything.

Your mind wanders to why Joel was so quiet with you when you sat down.  It wasn't like that was the first time the two of you had a shouting match in front of everyone, but this felt different.  You deduce it to Joel having an off day and let your mind wander somewhere else.

Or, at least you try.

Because when your hands explore your body under the blankets, Joel comes back to life in your thoughts.  You come back to the warmth of his chest when you ran into him this morning, the grunt that left him from impact.  What that would sound like against your ear.  Before you know it, you're shifting your thighs together, spreading the mess of your cunt.  A craving ignites your bloodstream.

It's slick between your legs when you sit up, and you're full of determination unbeknownst of where it's coming from.  The act itself is a little heady, but you have nothing to lose so why not?

Slipping on a pair of shoes and a jacket that covers your clothes, you turn your back to the window and scurry down until you're able to jump off onto the grass.  One step close to where you want to be.

Joel's house is across the street which makes it easy to get to, but aggravating when you want a sense of peace.  He's always around, shooting you a menacing stare when you're not down each other's throats but there's an ache you can't deny.  A compulsion.

You knock on his door twice before he swings it open almost like he saw you approach, but he doesn't tug you inside like you thought he was.  Doesn't make you get on your knees or fulfill any fantasy of being used.  Of... making him proud.

"What?"  His question is dry and a part of you is crushed. He isn't taking advantage of the way your legs look in your shorts right away.

"You're not the only one who had a bad fucking day," you start, but he doesn't give you a moment to push through the door because before you know it you're being pulled inside.  The sound of a slamming door somewhere behind you.  You're forced to look at him with his paw wrapped around your jaw, thumb tilting your chin up effortlessly.  It locks you in place.

"You came here.  Why?  Y'want me to fuck your bad day away?"

You gape is panicked, eyes wide now in this compromising position.  You can't think, you can't nod or say words.  You just stare.

"She's real fuckin' quiet now," Joel shoves you against the closed door, not letting an inch of space be wasted and he takes your wrist with his free hand, palming you over his hardening cock in his jeans.  "How about now.  You payin' close attention?"

You whimper, nodding softly as your fingers massage and rub, tug at anything you can through the fabric.

"Did I tell you y'could do that?"  His words make you pause, shivering at how truly empty your mind is in the moment.  Even in your inexperience you don't know you've ever felt so instantly timid.  Joel makes you fold at the first hint of misbehaviour.  You can't think of a thing to say.  Halfway don't know why you're here in the first place, and he's got you so wet from this it almost hurts.  Stickiness coats your thighs as you squeeze your legs together and you're sure it will be obvious even through your cotton shorts.

You shake your head, and he's sick of you not speaking to him.  Squeezes your face tighter, "Use your fucking words."

"No... no you didn't," you manage and you've never heard yourself sound so pathetic.

"I didn't, that's right.  You answer to me."  The snapping sound of his words causes your eyes to roll in annoyance.  He doesn't own you, he never fucking could.  The action makes his jaw tighten, his hand from your jaw in a grip that didn't hurt now is wrapped around your throat and although it's not tight, it certainly isn't loose.  "What the fuck was that?"

You're back to being silent, unable to do anything but take.

"Not asking again."

"I rolled my ey–"

"You rolled your eyes.  Roll your fuckin' eyes at me again, little girl.  You'll regret it."

A cool threat, you think.  Meaningless, even.  What possible reproach would he have anyway?

It's then you take in the house.  You'd been here once before to stay with Ellie.  It's dark, a single lamp upstairs.  All of this is background noise to the drone of your need prickling your youthful skin.  It's apparent, your age difference, when you're this close.  His rough fingers, wrinkles catching the moonlight peeking in through the windows.

"I–I'm sorry," you've been saying that a lot lately.

"Don't apologise to me.  Don't say sorry when I know you're not."  His thumb moves from your chin to your lips, thumbing over just how pliable and soft they are and it sends your nerves to the surface.  Prying your lips apart, he presses inside and you willingly wrap your lips around it to lap the pad of his digit.  "Look at that sweet thing," he says, more at you than to you, and your neck flushes being this willing to suck for him, "so easy for me to use.  I put my thumb to y'er lips and you just took it right in, didn't ya?"  The taste of his skin robs you of any other sense, his tone making you all but fold.

"Show me what this mouth is good for, 'cuz it sure ain't good at a sincere apology."

Before you know it, you're on your knees.  Joel is kind enough that he ushers you down onto the hardwood floor and you can't believe you're face to face with his crotch in front of his door, no less.

"You couldn't wait to take me to your bedroom?"

Joel doesn't reply straight away.  Instead you hear the clanking of metal, a zipper coming undone, and the slap of his cock hitting his abdomen on the way out of his pants.  You take mental note that he hasn't been asleep by his attire, but it's all for nothing when your eyes make out the shapes in the dim light.  You choke when you see just how big he is.

He tuts, leaning his head condescendingly as he takes a chunk of your hair in his palm to tilt your chin up to greet his cock.  "Aw, you think you're goin' t'my room?"  The words make you feel naïve, the one or two times you've done something like this didn't have nearly as much... compromise.  And you certainly didn't hook up with someone twice your age.  You don't have time to be self-conscious because the head of him, the leaky head of him, is tapping against your lips and your eyes roll back as you open your mouth for him.  After jumping slightly in surprise, of course.

He sighs in relief with a deigned smile, pushing his hips further.  "Fuck.  You hear that?  Nothing!  Sounds so fuckin' good, shuttin' you up."

But it's not entirely nothing, is it?  Not with your gagging, slurping up what you can but you don't know what you're doing all the way and fumbling through half of it.  Doesn't seem to faze him much.

It's obscene as it feels, him using you like this – and you don't feel an ounce of guilt when it's exactly what you want.  The switch flips on why you came to his door in the first place.  His big thumb swipes over the corner of your full mouth, "You like that, dontcha, filthy thing?"

And you hated how right he was.  You wanted to scream, kick him.  Retaliate in a way so you could still be in this submission at the same time.

Your mouth was full by the earthy taste of him, obliterating whatever feelings you had about the day.  A bad mood that he had contributions in, but it's melting from the constant thrust of his hips.  And he's keeping your head locked in place, hand gripped in the strands so you can feel your spit mingling with the underside of his cock.  Honestly, every part of his dick is covered in your spit.  It spills down your chin, threatens up your nose when you gag, leaves your eyes to water when you look up at him in a dire need to breathe fully, but he's not done with you.

Not until the loudest, lewdest pop from your mouth you've ever heard does Joel break contact completely.  Steps back until you're being observed in a patronising way.  Your gone expression.  All saliva and tears and his precum smeared over your mouth.  You can barely bring yourself to look up, but his demands seem to do the trick.

Snapping his fingers at you to get your attention, you swallow hard.  "Nuh uh.  You're not gonna get all soft on me, girl.  Wake the fuck up."

Which would be simple if he wasn't practically dragging you by your hair, making you crawl on your hands and knees until you're on your feet and you're shoved onto his couch.

All that and you're still dressed.

"Off," he's barking commands like you're a trainable being and if you were in any other state, you may reconsider this whole ordeal, but when he pushed you onto the couch your legs spread just enough for him to see the wetness smearing the cotton at the apex of your thighs and that amuses him. "not good at hidin' how much of a slut y'are."

"You think it's just you that does this to me?" You find your voice again, hoisting yourself up to sit on his couch as his cock – thick and proud – sways against the fabric caught between it.  Your tongue presses to your cheek when you make eye contact, "You're kidding yourself."

The venom drips so fluidly from your tongue, Joel doesn't make a sound.  Just peels off his clothes until he's standing there naked in his house, giving you living proof that you are kidding yourself.

The silence speaks for itself.  He is pure smug under the sight of your drooling gaze.

"It's real cute that you think y'got control over the situation n'all," the weight shifting on this couch from the cushion shaping around his knee.  Joel sits down, taking you by the scalp again to cloak you over his lap stomach-first, and you yelp in surprise when he does all of this and tugs your shorts down in one fell swoop.

With your hair in his fist, his other hand ghosts over your ass in effort to make sure you squirm for him before administering a devilishly loud spank to your ass.  "But somebody better teach you better manners.  Sure as shit itn’t your father."

You crack out a sob at that– from the contact and the truth.  You couldn't retort, you were too busy getting slap after slap against your increasingly worn ass to think about anything else.  "Lucky I ain't making y'count.  You'd have this for eternity now."

Not that it mattered anyway.  He's leaving mark after mark of his large handprint across your cheeks, probably ten more if you could even focus on anything else but finding the words to stop him.

"Please– y-you're right," tears stain your face as you bury your face in your arms.  Flinching when Joel moves, you expect another searing punishment, but instead he pulls your ass apart and you gasp at the cool air striking your cunt that's hot and wet for him.  "Joel!"

“Dirty fuckin’ girl, wet from gettin’ punished.  I talked so bad about you, and you liked it?  You’re as desperate as I thought.  Only good for gettin’ my cock wet.”  And it’s like a lever is pulled when your slutty little smile plasters over your face with him out of view.  Not that you had much time to gloat, or to experience the pleasure of living in your own fantasy because Joel’s got you pulled again.  His thick thighs spread apart when he maneuvers you so willingly to sit between his legs.  Right where he wants you.  Right where you can feel the throbbing pulse at your folds.  He tells you to take off the rest of your clothes and you would be a fool to do otherwise.

“Bad girls don’t get the luxury of bein’ opened,” that Texan drawl slips over your ear when he holds the base of his cock, slicking himself through your folds, you gasp and wriggle against him – his grip tightening harder.  Silently warning you if you make another move it’s over, you’re done.  It’s over.  All the while the searing stretch of him causes your cunt to flutter and clench around him.  It’s too much, too overwhelming, and he won’t let you adjust long enough.  “You’ll get over it,” but it’s not reassuring.  He still sounds in control despite his laboured breathing and when he can, he moves his hands to grip your hips and guide you down on him.  You scream, a knee jerk response wriggle away from him, but this position doesn’t quite allow for that.

“Be a good girl.”

That folds you, quite literally, as he moves his hips down to pound up into yours, using you like his own toy to get himself off with.  And it’s just the incredible sounds of your squelching cunt and his balls tapping against your folds.  The fucking isn’t frantic, but it certainly isn’t soft.  He’s rough with you, a hand traveling up your back to grip your hair so your neck is back in place and he lifts you upright so your back is curved, neck craned so if you tried, you could make him out – upside down.  “Poor thing couldn’t help it, had to get a daddy to take care of her.  You want that, kitten?  Wanna be used and as daddy’s little fucktoy – only good for makin’ me cum?”  his hand sneaks around to the front of you with his free hand, he presses and digs into your pubic bone to make you feel exactly where he is.  “Put a baby right here.  Make everyone know what you fuckin’ did.”

You whine, eyes rolling back at the thought.  It was so obscene, nothing like you’d ever even heard of before.  Where did he fucking learn how to talk like this?  Your brain is swimming while your sticky sweetness coats his lap, clawing at his thighs for any sort of stability, but it was dizzying how he had you.  How his grunts filled the air in between slaps like he had your hips placed at the perfect angle for him to work you.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”  His gritting teeth by the shell of your ear, he keeps you secure within your hair to snake his arm around the front of you tugging and rolling at the sensitive nubs of your nipples.  When he feels you appear to drift off, those rough hands supply another smack, but to your tits this time, your fingernails clawing into his thighs involuntarily as you squeal in surprise.  You tighten at that, fluttering around his cock and you feel it at the edge.  So close you can almost taste it.

But he knows you’re close, too, and there’s no way in hell he’s giving that to you.  Not when you’ve barged into his house like this, not when you’ve done nothing but be an insufferable brat to him since the moment he came to Jackson.

Joel hovers you over his lap, and your heels dig into the floorboard.  His hips still, keeping the very tip of his cock inside of you – you feel panic flash over your body.  “No,” it’s the first word you’ve uttered in god knows how long and it sounds desperate.  Any hope of getting an orgasm swirls down the drain, and it’s set in stone when he pushes you on your back – the lumpy couch digging into your skin.  “No, no, please.  Why!”

His eyes could burn a hole through you.  Like a hungry dog, his body hovers – shoulders stooped, head down when he pours his gaze into you.  And he likes what he sees.  Legs open and begging, willing to do anything to get him back into you.  Your cunt glistening, even in the dull light and he can tell it’s pulsing.  “Poor thing’s clampin’ around nothin’,” he teases, grunting when his knees meet the couch cushions – another tell of his age.  But you, you’re too preoccupied in taming the ache between your legs to comment.  It burns, coming back to a fixed state you realise how stretched out you were and it’s more than overwhelming.  To know you haven’t been used to completion, all hope draining from your face.

“Joel,” your breath is shaky underneath him, pupils blown and wet when you make out his features, “Joel, please.  Please, I want this.”

“Darlin’, I know you want it.  Everybody in town knows you want it,” his words make you sob a whine as they approach closer to your neck, the delicate graze of his beard dances at your pulsepoint and you shudder.  Hips raise and he’s quick to slam them back down into place.  “If you want me, ‘Joel’ ain’t whatchu say to get me.”

And if you felt hopeless before, you really do now.  Unable to do anything but debase yourself for your own pleasure.  You’d heard it earlier, the way he referred to himself with a name that brought up mixed feelings at Tommy’s.  You swallow down embarrassment, looking him in the eyes – which were faded obsidian, your fingernails dig into your own thighs as if to brace for what’s tempting to slip out of your throat.

You hated that he made you nervous.

And you hated the hold he had over you.

But he had it, there was no doubt about it.  He had it.  He had you.

Your jaw ticks forward, fully aware of your clit screaming for attention and exhale shakily.  “Please, daddy.  Please, I want this.”

“Eh,” Joel muses, shaking his head, “I don’t believe ya.  Really gotta hear the desperation in your voice.  Maybe if I,” his hand reaches for his cock, slapping the sloppy head of it against your folds and that– that sends you.  Takes you to a different destination entirely because for the first time all night there’s attention to that bundle of nerves, and he knows it.  He knows you need this in order to give everything over to him in full.  “Daddy!” you screech, pelvis jutting up in full inclination and without a single word, Joel’s cock spears into you all the way to the hilt.  All the way to your cervix.

His hands, emitting heat and wrapped largely around your hips, locks you where he wants you like some animal in heat.  It forces you to bring your legs up into a position you aren’t sure you’ve ever been in – thighs against your stomach, by your sides.  It’s so, “deep,” you whimper, head rocking as your mouth flies open and he’s delivering you thrust after thrust of pleasure so wrecking no noise comes from you.

“Is that what you needed? Fuckin' brat,”  Joel is still able to tease, but even he isn’t immune to how tight you are around him.  Your fluttering core begging for release as it moves in and out around him – as if it’s doing its own begging.  “You wanna be filled up to the brim with my cum, babygirl?  Needy fucking cunt like you only good for matin’ like this.”  Your skin burns at his words, your body convulsing as you do your best to keep it together.

That’s when Joel’s hand wraps around your throat, a line of spit falling into your mouth and you willingly drink from him.  “You hold off, you ain’t gettin’ it tonight,” you pout for a moment, not fully understanding what he means by that, but he clarifies when his hips get sharper, more precise.  As if his cock is hooked inside of you, not letting a drip of precum spill out of you against your cervix.  “Y’ain’t cummin’, but I am.”

His grip around your throat gets harder, and you swear you can see every vein in his face rise to the surface when he uses you.  You’re limp, all thoughts washed away – his cock thick and long, you aren’t even sure how he fits it all inside of you but he does.  The edge of your stomach bulges as he works you, his neck cranes back to expose his neck and it’s too much to take. For both of you.  His hot cum ropes cords inside of you, sticking to your walls.  Filling you up is an understatement with how much he has to give you.  It’s as if you can discern the moment his seed grazes your cervix in its sticky texture.  Your head is swimming at the sound of your animalistic grunts, he looks so… fucking hot like this.  His name is replaced with ‘daddy’ more easily than you care to admit.  You do try not to chase your orgasm… a part of you does, anyway.

But you’re defiant.

You can take yourself there without him telling you to, and in fact the opportunity to disobey him is just what you need to send yourself creaming all over his cock.  You gasp, eyes wide before they roll back and you’re fucking yourself on his spent cock that somehow still has life to it.  Even for his age, he can still keep it hard for you after his seed coats your insides.  “Daddy, daddy, daddy,” becomes part of your breath, and you’re shocked he doesn’t pull out of you even though his hips are still.  You don’t notice it until you come down considering you’re using him.  Did he say you could do that?  As if you’re woken up by an alarm, you jerk at the sensation of the orgasm you snuck.  Without his permission.  You look up, and his knuckles are bleached around your hips.  He looks so menacing like this, scary.  You shake your head, swallowing hard in your attempt to fix things.

But it’s too late for you.  You’re a brat at the end of the day, and he has to train you.  Make you realise the error of your ways.

His cock is still buried deep when his middle finger plays where the two of you connect.  A whine escapes you, shivering now, not quite sure what he’s going to do.  He’s lethally quiet, you aren’t sure how to react.  He’s contemplating what to do to you, he’s not met someone who’s as menacing as he is.  As unwilling to give away freedom.  Not since… his nostrils flare as he inhales.

“I told you not to do that,” Joel stating the obvious makes you clear your throat, his cock twitching inside you in the aftershocks sends your teeth to bite down on your lip and you shake your head, “I c- I couldn’t help it!” You lie, and he knows it.  Compels him to prod that middle finger just above his cock inside you and the stretch is too much.  When you reach out for his forearm, his other hand darkens over your wrist, pinning it back in a way that hurts.  You wince in tandem with it and his monstrous hook of the digit inside you.  You’re so full, “It’s too-it’s too much!” you tap at anything you can, but he’s not listening.

Instead, the pad of his finger has no problem in touching that spongy bit inside of you – especially since your cunt is stretched from his cock and he can see it.  His cum tempts to pool out of you, but he shoves it back in, working his finger inside you repeatedly but he’s just rubbing.  He’s just rolling his finger against your g-spot until you feel so overstimulated it brings more pain than pleasure.  “Came like you knew what you were doin’,” he finally remarks, thumb rolling over your clit and you can’t take it.  “Please, pl– it’s too much!  Daddy!”  That rhythm is sly, though, in making you come undone.  Again and again.  As you’re on the peak of what would be an explosive orgasm, Joel pulls out of you entirely.  His cock, his finger.  His warmth is a distant memory when he stands up, palming over his cock.  How did he get hard again?!  He would deal with that on his own time.

Your moan is choked out, thighs pressing together for any sort of… something.  A release, a grind.  You’re left panting and begging, your tits perky and heaving for him.

“What did I say, little girl?”  He climbs into his clothes, one button up at a time with his flannel.  “You won’t be cumming for a week with that fuckin’ attitude.”

You’re so lost in chasing a feeling, soon to disappear as it could arrive that all you can do is whimper and nod.  “I’m so–” his hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look up at him.  Spit covers your face, and you hum like a kitten at the feeling of his hot saliva down your cheek, “What did I fucking say about apologisin’ when you’re not sorry?”

You wipe your face, sucking the spit off your thumb with a satisfied smirk.  “Fuckin’ loved it, daddy.”

He swallows then, his head shaking in disbelief over how much of a filthy bitch you are.  “Yeah, yeah you fuckin’ did.  Belong to me now, you understand?  Gonna let everybody know what a slut you are for this cock.”

And you would be lying if you didn’t experience a swell of pride in those words.  You’d be down each other’s throats again in no time, but the look of ownership that adorns his face over you is too much not to bask in.

“A week?”  You study him, eyes wet and round, look up at him and you see his cheek twitch in response.

“Gonna be two if you keep it up.”

You let out a faint sigh, resting your head back on the armrest.  “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he coos, leaning down to press his lips at the shell of your ear.  Fingers tucking his cum back in your hole.  He relishes in how hot you feel under his fingers.

“Now get the fuck out of my house.”

taglist: @cool-iguana - dm to be added!

[urhoneycombwitch]

breathe in the air

eddie x reader x steve. part i

foreword: this is part one/set up for a fic I’ve been chewin’ on. cw is for both parts and will get updated- no actual smut in this first one but please heed the tags anyway. +18 mdni as always. (@somnambulic-thing you inspired me to write from Eddie’s pov! 💖)

cw: smoking (weed and nicotine), R’s hair is mentioned but unspecified texture/length, also wears Eddie’s shirt, R has breasts + V,  Eddie and Reader are both varying degrees of stoned while performing sex acts (please be safe IRL and don’t read if that makes you uncomfy!!), pt. ii will have: voyeurism (Eddie and R fool around and Steve watches), blow jobs, masturbation, both the boys being Down Bad™️

wc: 2.5k (part i)

_____

The sun has sunk low over Forest Hills, Eddie’s room cast in deep blue where the golden path of his bedside lamp doesn’t touch.

He’s lighting up a post-sex cigarette, one of the best things this shitty world has to offer, in his opinion- second only to feeling your warm body against his; writhing and wriggling with pleasure, neck craned to let him lick the sloping sweat from your skin- or times like now, when you’re calm and satiated, nude under the comfort of sheets and the weight of your head on his chest.

Casting a hand out to shuffle blindly through the bedside table, Eddie wraps his other arm around the sleepy length of you, pulling you tighter to himself; your response a wordless, happy little noise. His hand deep in the drawer catches on a stray cigarette, then around the hard plastic of a spare lighter. With a sigh of contentment, he kisses the top of your head before bringing the filter to his lips.

Sparks catch under his thumb, cherry of the cig burning red- like some sort of sleeper agent responding to the click, you sit up with a jolt, stealing the mess of sheets upwards, exposing Eddie’s lower half to the cool air.

Eddie swears, startled- thinking you were almost asleep, he’d been nearly careless with the open flame- tossing the lighter aside, he reaches towards your back that now faces him. “Jesus, babe. Give a guy some warning before you snap to attention like a damn general.”

Thumb pressed to the notches of your spine, palm wide around your lower back, Eddie can feel the quiet giggle that shakes through your ribs.

 “Sorry,” you whisper once you’re finished, still staring at the far wall like you're trying not to break a spell. Your arms are crossed, sheets bunching around your chest- “Had a thought.”

“Must’ve been a good one,” Eddie muses, thumb following the line of your spine down, like he’s petting an oversized cat.

In true feline fashion your back arches into his touch, encouraging his palm to sweep up again, to your shoulder blade this time as you murmur, “I wanna go swimming.”

“Okay.” Eddie’s immediately agreeable, taking a long drag from the cig, letting smoke fill out the hollows around his lungs. “We’ll go to Lover’s Lake tomorrow. Heard it’s gonna be a hot one.”

Hawkins is having a record heat wave for the second summer in a row- as if all the damn underground monster shit and horrific earthquakes of last year weren’t enough already: global warming to top it all off. The sun has been merciless these last few weeks, peaking midday, nothing for it but to lie in a heated daze on the kitchen tiles of whoever’s house is the least amount of bitch to get to.

Not that Eddie’s complaining about you being half-naked most of the time. He thinks this is the year you might actually kill him, now that he can touch you, call you his- every curve of upper calf in those short shorts, every soft slip of stomach peeking out from cropped tops- he’s got enough spank bank material to last until his deathbed. (Which he’s decidedly allowed to joke about, since, ya know, the whole almost-dying thing last spring.)

Eddie moves on haptic memory to set aside his cigarette, searching pinky-out for the lip of the ashtray (ceramic, with a poorly-drawn Snoopy, the ears far too big- you’d laughed until you cried over it at the thrift store; he was fifty cents poorer that day but rich and dizzy off your glee). 

“No, not the lake. And I wanna go swimming now.” There’s a hint of petulance in your voice, walking the thin line of childish whine that only appears these days after you’ve smoked, tongue and desires loosened and lax with the help of the finest hash stash in Hawkins. 

There’s a smile threatening to split Eddie’s face in two. He’s been working at that hard-won wall of your solitude for ages now, showing rather than telling you it’s okay to ask for things, that you’re safe to make requests and hell, even demands, from him. Eddie’s not sure what he wouldn’t do for you, at this point- hasn’t found that line yet. Probably doesn’t exist.

A monster of my own design, he thinks, fondly, sweeping the hair from your neck so he can see the outline of cheek and jawbone, reflective with lamplit glow. “Baby, there’s nowhere to swim right now- it’s dark and that’s not real safe. Tomorrow I’ll make us some sandwiches- we can drive out to the lake, you can get stoned and I’ll play lifeguard.”

It’s probably too much to hope you’ve swallowed this bitter pill of compromise in silence, but based on the lack of response, it’s certainly possible. Eddie presses his thumb into the muscle where your neck meets shoulder, massage a silent apology for saying no when you’d been so good to ask. 

Crickets chirp in chorus outside, sound dampened by the glass window- he needs to open it soon, get the hot air out and night breeze flowing (though he is loath to replace the heady smell of sex wrapped like a cozy blanket around his room).

He feels you shuffle under his hand, eyes popping open to watch- you’ve tucked your chin over the dip in your shoulder, looking down the slope of your own nose at him, an expression on your face that makes Eddie’s stomach flip (with nerves, fear, excitement, hard to pinpoint exactly).

Your voice is quiet but steady when you speak, Eddie’s massaging fingers freezing to a halt when you say, “I know a place, open right now, with a lit-up pool. And a lifeguard.”

A thin tendril of smoke from the ashtray floats into Eddie’s vision as he stares blankly at the ceiling for a moment. Then he sits up, crushing the cherry into Snoopy’s wavered outline (sorry, pal) before brushing arms with you, patient and stern with a headshake to match- “No way, sweetheart.”

“Why-y?” That petulance is back, Eddie’s heart kicking up in response; it’s your turn to give the physical affection, winding your arms in a closed loop around his neck, forehead bumping against his jaw as he works it back and forth. 

His stitched-tight resolve quickly unspools as the wet plush of your lips track a path across his throat; he clears it before squeezing at your side again, one last argument to try and stick like cooked spaghetti to a wall. “You’re high.”

You snort, puff of breath sending goosebumps across his skin, rapidly cooling from lack of your affection- “Yeah, and you’re not. So you can drive us there, and then smoke again with me before we go in, and Stevie boy will keep us safe in that nice, heated, well-lit pool of his.”

Even as you speak, Eddie’s shaking his head, but it’s more in disbelief of his own weakness (namely: you). He slips a hand to your cheek, pulling back to take you in- mischief shimmering like twin stars in your eyes as you lock onto his gaze, lips parting pliant when his thumb swipes at your bottom lip. 

“You gonna behave yourself?”

It’s less of a question and more of a check-in, the meaning behind the words an undulating variable, a riddle with a thousand different answers.

The one you do give is complimented by a wicked grin, punctuated with a quick kiss (awfully chaste, considering your bare front pressed against his), your mirthful delight at having won both unsettling and tantalizing.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

With a sudden push to his chest, Eddie goes down easy for you, hair spreading riotous across the pillow as you move with shocking fluidity to throw a leg over his hip. Your hands meet in the middle of his chest, just under the rippling ink of a crow in flight, settling your weight comfortably on his stomach. 

Eddie’s sure you can feel his pulse, jack-rabbit fast, as you dip to kiss beneath his jaw. His hands automatically settle on your hips, grip tightening with each loving kiss you scatter over his collarbones, his sternum.

He’s half-hard under the sheets by the time your lips find the hitch of his ribs, stuttering and expanding to meet your mouth- can’t be faulted, really, not when your bare chest gleams in the low light, the top of your head imploring for the warmth of his wide palm to rest. 

Just when Eddie thinks he’s in the clear, that the call of your needs (evident in the slickness pooling just under his navel where your naked cunt rests) will drive the call of your wants to distraction, you sit up again, using your planted hands as leverage to swing completely off and away.

The coldness of your absence is cruel and unusual punishment. Eddie groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, deciding right then that he won’t be above begging tonight- when you suddenly reappear with a clean beach towel in either arm, pulled from the bowels of his closet.

There’s youthful, honest enthusiasm to your movements- something that’s catching, apparently, ‘cuz Eddie’s tipping himself out of bed with a resigned sigh, pulling boxers over his flagging dick and answering your spree of questions about these new evening plans.

“Sure, bring a water bottle. No, babe, we don’t need sunscreen- it’s night. Yeah, I’ll bring more weed. How ‘bout you bring me that old shoulder bag and we can bring some stuff with us.”

As you work on digging through the mess of a combined closet to find something suitable for swimming, Eddie folds the two towels that you’d found along with a baggie of joints into the bag. You’re humming under your breath while getting dressed, and Eddie’s staring at all the leftover space- what does one pack for a nighttime high swim with one’s girlfriend and the guy you’ve both sort-of mentioned threesoming with?

He tosses in a well-loved edition of your favorite book of poems, figuring the Harrington abode will have plenty of snacks. Food for the mind, he thinks, then snorts at his own joke. 

“C’mon, snorty.” You beckon from the doorway, an old t-shirt of his just swishing past the dark strip of your bikini bottoms, van keys held aloft. 

At the front door, there’s a brief argument about coats (you think you’ll be fine without, Eddie disagrees vehemently) which Eddie wins, wrangling your arms into the sleeves of his oil-stained work jacket before locking the front door behind you both.

Eddie smiles, a secret, pure thrill watching you tiptoe gingerly across the gravel on bare feet (too stubborn to actually wear the sandals that hang from either hand). His coat is bunched up around your ears while your legs poke out like some sort of winterized bird with bare legs. 

There’s a bright pang of love that suddenly hits hits sideways, a dizzying urge to sink on denim knees to the ground, sharp rocks be damned, just to kiss the tender spot behind your knees, to feel the hill of your calf under his tongue…

Your giggle breaks his reverie, impatient and pointed jiggling of the locked passenger handle clunking out into the quiet park. “Quit staring, weirdo. You coming?”

Hope so, Eddie thinks, spinning the key ring in looping arcs around his pointer finger. He bypasses the porch steps completely, boots hitting the gravel with a satisfying crunch. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Your cheery mood is sustained during the short car ride as you chatter animatedly about some coworker drama that you forgot to catch him up on, Eddie’s hand drawn like a magnet to your upper thigh while he drives. 

But by the time he’s pulling the van next to Harrington’s beemer, your eagerness has waned, speech drifting off into silence once he’s parked. 

“Hey.” His voice draws you back to him, a bit, your eyes too wide and roving for his liking, coat sleeves clenched around opposing fists as you hang onto his words. “Sweetheart. We don’t have to go inside. Can go anywhere- diner for some food, back home, the damn trash heap for all I care. Just want you to feel safe.”

“I do,” you counter, earnest but chest still punching a fast rhythm. “I feel safe. I just… you think he’s even awake?”

There’s a yellow glow coming from one of the second-floor windows. Your fingers twist harshly around fabric in the dark, breath loud. 

Eddie nods, then kills the engine and grabs behind his seat for the Ziploc of pre-rolls, an offering held to you between two ringed fingers. “Want a bit of Green Courage before going in?”

The van windows are soon fuzzily obscured with a haze of smoke, sprinklers for the pristine lawn nearby hissing to an automated start at the turn of 11 PM. The weed coaxes your earlier state of relax to the forefront, this time with an added layer of giggles, which Eddie finds desperately cute. 

He’s sure he’s high now, too, ‘cuz he’s unintentionally focusing really hard on your lips as you speak, and you’re letting him, corner of your mouth quirking when you ask, “Gonna take me inside, Munson?”

“Uh huh.” An automatic response, just so he can keep staring- when you pop the handle of your door open Eddie reaches, faltering before landing on your face, cupping the tilt of your cheek- “Meant it. Earlier. Just say the word. Take you anywhere.”

Weed fragments his speech but you melt with understanding, leaning into his hand, your lashes sweeping sweetly at the bridge of his thumb as you whisper, “Okay.”

You’re out the door and he’s left scrambling in the wake, hauling the strap of the packed bag over one shoulder and snapping up your forgotten shoes from the footwell. He locks the doors (nevermind that this is a nice neighborhood, can’t trust rich people farther than he can throw ‘em and Eddie has always been better at running over shotput on field days) and hikes it across the grass to where you stand, a beacon of beauty under the porch light.

“Ready?” he asks.

Your bare foot- flecked with wet grass- trails up the back of your opposing leg, veins at the whites of your eyes spidering pink with anticipation (and the fresh joint) as you turn to smile at him. “Yeah. Bring it on.”

“Your wish, my command,” Eddie says, winking, knuckles pulled into a fist to rap at the front door of one Steve Harrington. 

___

[END: PART ONE]

[thewritersaddictions]

Day Seven: Rick Grimes + Virginity

The longest crush you had ever had on someone was the guy who lived across the street. Your dads best friend for years now. They both at the sheiff department. Cruisers partners.

You aren't sure how it managed to be just the two of you in your backyard but as your stared at him catching the sun rays in the sexiest way. You felt you body tingle the same way it always did when you looked at him. His deputy unirform hugging him all in the best ways possible.

But right now he was just hanging at your house his son at his mothers for the next few weeks at least until summer break was over. Your own classes long over and you didn't start back up at uni until the fall. A whole great, long summer to oglle over your crush.

Your father was on duty, and had asked Rick to come over and make sure that you were getting on okay since you just managed to get all your stuff out of thier bags and get settled into the summer.

Your body floated in the water as you let the sun soak into your body with ease. It wasn't until you heard shuffle from above the water did you look up towards where Rick was sitting before. He was no longer there rather now he was sitting at the edge of the pool his legs dipping into the pool water.

Blue swim trunks that caught your eyes the seconds you opened the front doors. Southern words that dripped from his mouth. "Do you mind if'i just use your pool for afew?" You nodded, but now here you were.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself sweetheart." Rick commented. He had always used that nickname. Ever since you had lived across from him, that was now at least ten years ago. Now you were twenty-two and still waiting for him to just drop to his knees and beg that you were all he needed.

Dreams are always better in your head.

You hummed, "It's better then the stupid cold dorms at the uni." You said. He nodded and watched as you went back to sun bathing on top the water. You didn't hear him slip into the water.

A tap on your shoulder brought you out of your daze. "Rick?" You muttered as you shifted in the water. "You know you haven't said much about your time in the city. Why don't you tell me all about it." Rick is coaxing you, but you're so dumb you follow along. Ignorant to the way he's circling you, the way he's been eyeing you from his seat at the pools side.

"There isn't much to tell, exams went well, and my roomate brings every guy she mets back to the dorm so studyin' is a bitch." You shrug the last bit off. The words leave a bad taste in your mouth. "What do you mean sweetheart? You aren't beinging any lucky guys home… I mean um back to your dorm?" You shake your head water flinging to other parts of the pool.

"Oh, please I don't believe that." Rick tries, "You don't have a boyfriend, or girlfriend if you're into that sorta thing. Fine by me sweetheart." You chuckle surprised partially by his questions, but most surpised by how Rick hasn't realized that are not anybody's type.

"No I'm not really anyone's um type… guys don't really want a virgin…" Your hands smakes over your mouth

"Look I'm sorry I didn't mean…" From up to this point Rick had kept his distance, but now he was crepping closer and closer to your body. "No need to be ashamed sweetheart, this is not something that has to happen the minute you get out of high school, and anyways some guys don't how to treat a girl like you." Rick mumbles on as he activly pushes you up towards the wall of the pool.

"What do you mean?" You ask. A smirk grows on his face, "I just mean that you need an experinced man is all." "Like… um like you?" You ask, confindence coming out of nowhere. He nods, he whispers into your ear real close, "I see the way you look at me. Doe like fuckable eyes that you've got sweetheart." Even though the water is warm around you his words send shivers down your spine. "Will…' you bite your bottom lip as your back hits the wall. "Will you teach me then, Rick?" You're not begging but the way you melt agasint him and the wall says otherwise.

Smirking "Of course sweet thing." He says as his hands get to work under the water. Your binki top is off in a few seconds and the bottoms float to the top of the water. "Now that's much better, you've been showing yourself off to me ya know." You shake your head. His hands ghost over your tummy, and up to your breasts. Grabbing a hand full before falling in to kiss your chap lips. He moans into it and your melt into his touch.

Unaware of the hard on growing in his swim trunks. "You want me to fuck you good sweetheart?" He mumbles into your lips. You nod and moans as his fingers start to play with your clit. A new sensation washing over you. You brain becomes fuzzy as the feeling washes over you. Your head falls back over your shoulder blades.

"I gotta get you all nice and wet for me sweet heart. Can't go breakin' my brand new toy can I?" He plays with your clit until he's satisfied with both you and himself. He doesn't even get out of his truck just still them down his tan thighs. "This is gonna hurt, but baby that just means you'll end up lovin' the feeling." You brace yourself as the tip of his cock prods at your clit, and moans fall from your lips. The next thing you know without a hesitation or warning he's slipping his cock to the hilt. Your sobs are silent as you try to get used to the feeling. "Oh sweet jesus, Rick you feel… oh shit Mr. Grimes." You can't handle the thought of words, the sensation of his cock as the pain subsides.

He fucks you nice, and slow until he wants more from you. Moaning into the hot summer air. You aren't even worried about your father catching you, or what the neighbors might think you're just glad that right now he's fucking you so good you can't even remember what the hell your name is.

"Yeah come on darlin'… I can feel it coming squeezing me so tight I can barly move." His words are sending you closer and closer to the edge. "Y/n, sweet heart.… I want ya to cum all over my cock okay, can you do that for me? Can you do that for your dad's best friend? Can you be my dirty little virgin slut?" His words send you over the edge, and everything goes white. Your hands squeeze at Rick's shoulders and your legs wrap around his waist.

"Not gonna let go are ya?" His moans turn into groans and his grip on your hips turns into a death grip. His head falls between your shoulder and neck as his thursts become hard, and chatoic. He cum deep inside you and doesn't let go of you until he slips out of you, and looks at how fucked out you look.

Rick can worry abou the consquence later.

Completed on: 06/20/23

Posted on: 10/07/23

Kinktober 2023- @lanad3lreyscokewhor3 @homelanderscumdump @hummusxx@chvnsdimple @vvitzvafflezvv @lokisivy @claud-blood0703 @iliketoreads-stuff @all-that-glitters-is-treasure@clearscissorsbonkgiant-blog @lxonix--ac @piecesofx @mortallyswimmingpainter @playwithfire99 @fucak @everythingneytiri @lovetheos @xxxxxoseungxoooo @durazopato @hotpead42069 @oddseabiscuit @capoda @witching-hour @viviwows @lover103 @alexlovesfiction @katiecat10 @electricfans @jianasmind @max-505 @powerbun21o @the-horny-simp @missy420-0 @jaq-dav @arescosplays

The Walking Dead Master List // The Law Master List // Kinktober '23

[icabrth]

found family

pairings: platonic!jesse pinkman x fem!reader

summary: you lose your sister, Jane, to overdose and her druggie boyfriend takes you under his wing.

a/n: this is my first imagine ever so it sucks but I need to practice my writing lol

warnings: death (overdose), drug mentions&usage, probably a lot of typos…

main masterlist

“Jane! Jane- no, please!–“ your desperate cries were futile as your sister’s body laid unconscious in your arms. Puke splattered around face sticking to her hair. Sweat dripping down from her forehead, and the discoloring in her face making her almost unrecognizable.

You’d only ever imagined this scenario in your nightmares, you never thought it’d happen.

You had been living with her for a few years now. Spending all your tween years under her custody, you were now fifteen. Jane had become more like an actual parents than your real ones. She helped you with your homework, cooked meals for you, you talked about boys, she kept you away from boys. You had such an idealistic relationship, and now it was all gone. You had come home from school to find the two of them in bed. Nothing could have prepared you for the sight before you.

You had stayed like this for a long time, trying every method you knew of to wake her up – but she was dead. The man next to you, Jane’s tenant, dealer or boyfriend… you weren’t sure. Though, it didn’t matter now. Jane was dead and it was his fault. As far as you knew, she was getting better. But then he came and dragged her right back to the bottom.

“What is wrong with you!” You screamed at him, refusing to let go of her. He stood beside the bed with that same, frozen look he’d had ever since you found them. Not moving, not talking.

“You killed her! You killed my sister, you crazy fucking bitch- fuck you!” Eyes swollen from all the crying. “Jane.” You said finally. Words mushing together with your face pressed against her chest. You wailed like a toddler not getting her way. You eventually got up, your cold gaze meeting his. You noticed his tired, red eyes. And for a split second, you felt bad for him. But the feeling left as quickly as it came.

Jesse wasn’t sure what to do in this situation, still mourning this loss of his girlfriend. Just like you, he had loved her. He loved her more than anything else in this world. So he could do nothing but stand there when the love of his life’s little sister repeatedly hit him in the chest, yelling cruel obscenities.

You eventually grew tired of yelling, your throat becoming sore and your eyes began to try out. Your mind felt fuzzy as you stopped your fit as you suddenly collapsed in his chest. He acted quickly, wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry.” Was all he said. The two of you stayed like that for a while before you left the house. It was late at night by now, but you couldn’t sleep in the same house as her. Though, you couldn’t really sleep anyway.

It had been a few weeks since your sister’s death and you were a complete mess. Jesse had offered you’d stayed with him and you hesitantly agreed, not having anywhere else to go. You insisted on sleeping in the living room, though. You simply couldn’t bare to be in the same room, the same bed, she’d died.

“No, dad I’m not going to live with you— don’t act like you care–“ Jesse lay in bed listening to you talking on the phone. He couldn’t properly explain it, but he felt somehow responsible for you after Jane’s death, knowing you were her younger sister. And though he was still coping with her death, he knew about you guys’ relationship with your dad and therefor he knew Jane wanted him to take care of you. “—I don’t know, I’ll figure it out!”.

He sighed as he realized you’d finally hung up, you’d been at this for what felt like hours – arguing in circles, going nowhere. He heard you shuffling through his stuff and he got up to see what you were doing, following the noise.

The two of you didn’t communicate a lot; he had his drug business (which you didn’t know about) and you had school. He’d order some kind of Uber eats and you’d eat it in silence. But you did know something was up. His expensive clothes, seemingly endless drug supply, suspicious phone calls and money made you think.

Currently, you were on the floor, rummaging through his stash, looking for some kind of stimulants. Something to make you forget about your life and make you feel good again. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back while simultaneously ripping to box away from you.

“What the fuck are you doing– are you insane?!” Jesse yelled at you, now kneeling in front of you with both his hands gripped tightly onto your shoulders. His wide, bloodshot eyes forming a manic expression. “Hey, stop! It’s none of your busi–“

“None of my business?— it’s my fucking drugs! You’re what 15? You’re not touching none of this!” His anger died down instantly, replaced by a look of pity. He moved his hands from your shoulders to your hands and held them firmly. You looked away, struggling to maintain your stone cold expression as your lower lip began to quiver with emotion. The yelling died down and you were once again back in the position you were in two months ago.

“Promise m– hey! Hey, look at me!” He said desperately, his eyes searching for yours. You reluctantly look at him with tears swelling in your eyes. “Promise me you’ll never do this again, ok?”

Another month passed by and the two of you were getting closer, finding out you had more in common than you thought. You were super into comics and he liked drawing comic characters. You played a lot of games together (mario kart/run, fall guys, cod). And you bonded over Jane’s death together, understanding each others pain.

“Hey, can you ready the batter? I’ll cook it and set the table.” Jesse said, pouring some margarine in the pan. Rays of sunlight were shining through the blinds and the sound of birds chattering could be heard. You’d heard the phrases “better days are coming” and “there is a light at the end of the tunnel” continuously for the past year, but you never actually believed it. Now that summertime was nearing you were actually starting to feel better about your life.

You took a second to take it all in, how much better your life had finally turned around. He slapped you in the back of your head lightly, bringing you out of your trance. “Yo, anyone in there? Earth to ___!” You laughed in response, slapping him with your apron.

[britswriting]

Fallen For You H.S | AU - Four

Fallen For You masterlist - find description here

Read on Wattpad

Rancher!Harry x Plus-sized!OC

🦋Delaney🦋

All week felt like a whirlwind of chaos. I barely found time to sit down and have dinner with my family; the only time I saw Harry was to deliver his food before calling it a night, and I couldn't help but feel disappointed with the lack of his presence in my day. I looked forward to our interactions; even if they were frustrating. Now the best I got was sneaking glances at him over my hands full of baking dishes as he took care of our animals.

I was currently on my way with Wren to deliver the fresh baked goods to the market stand, along with fresh bottles of milk.

"I feel like my arms are going to fall off. What is in these things?" Wrenlynn groaned, my eyes widening as I called out, "Careful! Don't drop them!" watching her shuffle around my freshly baked pies.

"They're fruit pies! They'll make us good money, don't you dare drop them!" 

"Jesus christ, do they have bricks in them?" She huffed, my arms shifting the bucket of cookies and bars to my left hip so I could quickly open the door for her.

"No, you just have like 6 pies" I laughed, Wren glaring before quickening her pace to our market table.

"Wonderful! You're just in time! We just sold our last apple crumble bar!" Mimi grinned, my eyes falling on the empty spot at the table.

"I've got a few fruit pies: Strawberry, blueberry, banana cream" I listed, Wrenlynn happily setting down the baked goods as Mimi and I rushed out a reminder to be careful, "In here are some Oatmeal Raisin, Chocolate Chip, and White Academia Nut with Cranberries" I set down the large closed totes.

"Yum!" Mimi hummed, glancing at the fresh goods, popping open a container to take a whiff of the freshly baked goods.

"I have more of the apple bars; dad hasn't scarfed them all yet" I giggled, "And the lemon bars that Mrs. Housley requested. Her name is on them. Remind her they're five dollars a tote" I gave Mimi a stern look, knowing she's prone to giving frequent customers discounts.

It's not like I want to be a bitch, but we need all the money we can get. We need to order more dog food soon and I just wanted to make sure we were covered.

"This is wonderful Delaney! We should be good for the weekend. Have you found the ingredients for my famous cherry and pineapple pie?" Mimi asked, my nose wrinkling, making her laugh.

She knows how much I hate that pie.

"If you want that pie, you're making it. I won't be caught dead having my name attached to that" I scoffed.

Back at the ranch, a smile tugged at my lips as Harry turned around from the sound of the truck tires on the dirt road, only to drop when he looked away.

I sighed, licking my lips before rolling them inwards, Wren snickering next to me.

"Why don't you make a move? Worst he says is no"

My nostrils flared as I looked over at her, "No? That's the worst he can say? Clearly you've never talked to that man!" 

"Laney-"

"No! He lives here Wren! I have to bring him dinner every night! I can't just knock on his door and be like 'Hey Harry, I like you. Would you like to go out sometime?' He'll kill me! You will no longer have a twin, Wren! I'll be horse food!" I freaked, hopping out of the truck, slamming the door shut before she could reply; my feet quickly carried me towards the main house, empty totes in hand when I noticed Harry was struggling to corral the sheep.

Brow furrowed, I walked over towards him, looking for the Aussies who were supposed to help him.

"Hey!" I called out, loud enough to make his head turn, "Where are the dogs? They'll do it" I asked, looking around for Milo and Daphine 

Harry ignored me, shutting the gate behind him.

Is he serious?

I eventually found the dogs, bringing them out to the pen so they could do their job. Right as I opened the gate, letting them run in, Harry yelled, "I don't need their help!", sneering at me as I shut the gate behind me. 

"You looked like you were struggling" I replied, "They can help you. It's their job"

"I'm perfectly fine on my own!" He glared, stomping over to me with his biceps flexing; completely distracting me as I watched his clothing tighten around his arms.

I wanted so badly to be held by those arms. To feel safe and secure in his hold. To lay my bed on his chest and hear his heartbeat. Or look up at him and have our eyes meet before he leaned down, kissing the top of my head.

Everything about him screamed comfort protector; even when he was acting like an asshole. 

"Yeah, looked like you really had it handled" I sarcastically replied, tired of him not letting our pets work.

They're on the farm. They have jobs. They're here to help. Let them! 

Every time I spot Harry working, there is no dog in sight. It's like they're dodging him completely. Like even the dogs know messing with Harry always ends in disaster.

"I don't need no damn dog to help me on the farm! I've done it by myself for years!" He continued to argue, completely unaware of all the hard work the Aussies were doing right behind him.

I motioned for him to turn around, Harry's jaw clenched as he turned; ready to explode at any moment.

"See. They help. All you have to do is open that gate. Why are you so stubborn about this? They're here to make your job easier; plus they love what they do!" I grinned, really wanting to shove an I told you so in his face. "And they love the meal and warm house they sleep in each night after a job well done" I reminded him, struggling to hold back the smirk my lips wanted so desperately to show, only for it to be completely wiped off my face as the ticking time bomb finally hit it's clicker.

"What's the point of working here, if these fucking dogs are just going to do my damn job?!" He snapped.

"They're literally making your job easier" I stated, "I don't understand why you're so peeved about a canine's help? Shouldn't you be glad you're not spending an hour moving sheep?"

"I don't want easier! I want my damn job" he sneered, his entire body looking like he was going to explode right in front of me. I swear I could see his forearm veins quivering. "At least at the Rickman's I knew I wouldn't lose my fucking job to some damn dog who won't live for more than what, 6 years?" He hissed, my brow furrowing.

Is he serious? 6 years? Herding dogs live 10-14 years depending on health issues.

I wanted so badly to say, "Then fucking go then!" and just get rid of all the drama in my life, but I knew how much I— we needed him. As frustrating as it was, he was getting things done around here, allowing my dad to do odd jobs in town, earning us all extra cash that was much needed.

"You have a job! You're the ranch hand, and a damn good one at that; remember? The dogs are a part of this farm. We love them. They love us, and they work just as hard as you do, if not harder! Accept help, Harry! We help each other on this farm! I don't know what the Rickman's made you do every day, but here we do things together. We work together. Whether you walk on two legs, or four paws, we work together. They had their job first, but that doesn't mean they're replacing you—"

"I can't earn my goddamn keep if I'm losing my work to some fucking animal" He interrupted. 

I could feel my breathing becoming more rushed as I started to notice  the quick spiral that was Harry Styles Emotional Tornado. 

"Okay! Okay!" I rushed, "Listen, please" I begged, noticing the familiar look of his temptation to turn around and leave us in his dust. "Herding dogs. The Aussies and Borders; they have jobs on the farm. They are also quote unquote earning their keep. They help us, the humans, make our  job easier. They get to run around and chase the cattle and sheep for us. So we're less tired during the day and because they move quicker than us. The perk of them is that they're helpful with quickening the task. They're not only helping us, but they have fun doing it. It's their job. They love it and when they're done, they retire. They work as long as they love doing it, and whenever they start to show lack of interest or are getting old, they retire. You're not being replaced, Harry. They're here to help you; not replace you. Let them help you." I urged, hoping to see some leeway, only to sigh and continue. Might as well list some perks the dogs get out of doing their jobs. "It gives them good exercise. Keeps them healthy. It tires them out physically and mentally making them better behaved in the house. It gives them purpose. They strive for a job well done just like you do. They want to make us happy. To do a good job; just like you. Am I wrong?" I asked, Harry's head shaking briefly. "You're both similar, Harry. You want to achieve the same thing and believe it or, you could both sleep in the main house but one of you decided not to. Why is that, Harry?" I asked,  praying he wasn't fed up and decided to flee right in front of my eyes again.

"Why is what?" He questioned, frustrating me.

Does he ever listen to me?

"We need to go close the gate. They're done" I noted, Harry looking over his shoulder before turning to leave, me hot on his heels as I continued; "And why won't you sleep in the main house? You act like you've been banned to the so called rabbit shack, and you act like it's some sort of punishment when it's what you wanted! Everything you have an issue with you wanted!" 

Harry stayed quiet, locking the gate as the dogs ran over to me with their tongues hanging out of their mouths. I praised them, petting them and cooing before they ran off towards the barn; Harry walked past me without saying a word. My eyes lingered on his tone back covered by a tight tan t-shirt; trailing down to his jeans, unknowingly chewing on my lower lip as I lingered on the back of his jean pockets; watching him walk away.

The things I'd do to see that man's—

"Laney!" Wren yelled, my body jumping.

'What?!"

"Mom needs your help!" God damnit. "And Harry's!" She chimed, a gleeful tone to her voice telling me she knows damn well what she's doing.

"Harry's? Why does she need both of us?" I asked, Wrenlynn shrugging. "Can you ask Harry? I'm pretty sure he hates me" I huffed/pleaded.

"No can do, Laney! I'm off to meet up with Dylan" She grinned, showing me the truck keys in her hand.

Dylan was Wrenlynn's wannabe boyfriend and she knew that; milking him of everything he was worth. It sounded bad, but she made it clear they were just friends, so as painful as I assumed that is for him to deal with, he decided it was better than being nothing. Now they hang out all the time and I'm convinced that he's just trying to woo her slowly; Wren falling for his obvious trap, getting free dinners and gifts along with it.

Harry and I walked into the garden, my mom now on the opposite side of the fertilized patches; one of the black and white bunnies hopping around, munching on the scrapes that were being tossed to her.

"You needed us?" I spoke, making her aware of our arrival; my mom's head snapping up as she nodded.

"Yes! Lane, I need you to take these to Grandma so she has them for dinner, and Harry, I wanted to ask if  there was anything you wanted planted? Anything you like having fresh?" Mom started, picking up a bin of harvested fruits and veggies, holding it up for me to take before shooing me away.

"No Ma'am, I'm okay" He replied as I grabbed the bin.

"It's no problem, truly! This is your home, Harry. We all have our things. Lane likes the lemon tree; my mom loves her carrots and strawberries. Matt loves the raspberries. I want you to have things you like in here. You sure there isn't anything?" Mom asked again, Harry's lips parting before closing again, shaking his head. "Alright, well, if you think of anything, let me know. I need to start prepping for our next big planting. Some of these plants have seen better days" She huffed, scooping up the bunny who had crawled into the bed of strawberries. "Oh! Harry, can you wash this out for me?" Mom asked, grabbing a bucket that had leftover soil in it, tapping it out over the dirt before handing it to him; "Then bring it back. I want to put scraps for the bunnies in here" Harry nodded, grabbing the bin. "Delaney, show him to the kitchen, please"

Harry and I walked down the path to the main house, my fingers turning weight  as I struggled to carry the bucket of harvestable.

"Here" Harry stated, handing me the dirty bucket.

I frowned, "I don't want your bucket. My hands are full as it is"

His eyes rolled, grumbling, "Trade me. You're struggling"

"I'm fine" I huffed, shifting the bucket up, almost losing one of the apples.

Harry stopped walking, setting the empty bucket on the ground, reaching over and grabbing the full bucket from me, "Teamwork, right?" He said, not giving me time to reply before hiking the bucket up the porch steps; "This place is a fucking shit show" I heard him mutter as I picked up the empty container.

I frowned, following him.

Why is he constantly insulting the farm? I know it isn't luxurious, but it isn't like it isn't livable, and one can argue that he has the best lodging on the entire farm! 

I quickly met up with him in the kitchen, Harry placing the container of harvestable on the counter with a huff.

"That's why I'm so jacked" I teased, turning on the tap, letting it run in the farm sink whilst I grabbed a washcloth.

"You looked like your arms were going to fall off. Do you have an ounce of muscle in you?" He asked, my head tilting.

"Is that a fat joke?" I asked, my heart starting to pick up in pace as my stomach did a whirl of disappointment.

"What? No. I mean—" He fumbled. 

My arms crossed under my boobs, "Just because I have extra weight doesn't mean I'm incapable. I was doing just fine before you came in to save the day"

"That isn't what I was saying. Look, I'm sorry—" He tried but my head shook, dismissing him as I pulled the bucket closer to me, grabbing a few of the apples I'll need for later, washing them. "Delaney" He sighed, walking around the kitchen peninsula, hovering behind me as I rinsed out the bucket. "I can do that" he reached for the bucket, my grip tightening on it as I shook my head.

"It's fine" I dismissed, expecting him to give up and go away; only be proved wrong as he turned off the  tap, my brow furrowed as I looked over at him, "What are you doing—"

"I'm sorry" He apologized, confusing me even more. 

"For?"

"I don't mean to be rude. I'm not used to the change. I'm used to doing everything by myself" He sort've confessed. 

The way he said it made it feel like he was telling me some jaw dropping news, as if I haven't picked up on that clue already.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, turning the tap back on, only for Harry to turn it back off. "Harry!" I snapped, turning it back on, Harry yet again turning it off.

"No, listen, please" He begged, shocking me.

So he does have manners.

"I'm waiting" I hummed, Harry nodding, his throat swallowing before his lips parted.

"I wasn't making  a fat joke. I was trying to joke in general. I apologize if I unintentionally hurt your feelings. You joked that that's how you got jacked, so I joked back and I can see it didn't land. I apologize" he said, looking, and sounding sincere.

I sighed, setting moms bucket in the base of the sink, "Harry, it's fine. I was slightly pulling your leg. I know I have more flab than muscle. Trust me. I live in this body. I know how it works; and the bucket was heavy. So thank you for taking it, but I carry heavy things all the time. I know people who are fit struggle to understand when someone who has more weight on them says they're comfortable in their body.... but Harry, I'm not looking to be thin. I'm looking to be healthy. Thank you for clearing up the misunderstanding though. Can I uh, ask you something?" I asked, feeling like I needed to tread the waters carefully.

He nodded, turning the tap back on to finish washing out the bucket for my mom.

"Why do you refuse  to accept help? I know you've turned away my dad, telling him you've got the jobs. You won't let the dogs help you, even though they're trained to do so, and it's beneficial for them" I commented again, Harry stilling, the washcloth frozen at the  bottom of the bucket before he moved again. "We're not the Rickman's Harry" I reminded softly, hoping I don't accidently say the wrong thing.

"If you couldn't do it alone, you weren't worth doing the job and if  you didn't do the job, you didn't earn your keep" He stated, scrubbing the bottom of the bucket harshly.

"At the Rickman's?" I questioned, Harry nodding. "What do you mean earn your keep?" I asked, backing into the corner of the counter, my hips resting against the edge.

Harry exhaled through his nose, "You earned things. They weren't given to you" He stated, rinsing out the bucket before grabbing a rag to dry it.

"Earned what?" I pressed, hoping what was popping into my head was incorrect.

"Shelter. Food. Sleep" He listed, setting the bucket on the counter, drying his hands on the rag before placing it back on the  rack.

"Harry" I sighed, wishing I could hug him, but I knew my limits, "You were given shelter. You didn't have to earn it. You're always invited to family dinner, you refuse. Why is that?" I questioned, wishing to get as much out of him as I could since he was apparently willing to talk.

"I'm not the family. I'm the employee" He  stated, "I need to get this back to your mom and go finish my work for the night. Please bring me my dinner when it's ready" He said, grabbing the bucket and leaving me standing there dumbfounded and sad.

He  had  to earn his keep. 

I knew the Rickman's overworked their employers, but I didn't know he had to quite literally earn the right to sleep.

I could feel my eyes sting with tears at the idea of him being so overworked, and then not being allowed to sleep all because of what, a job not well done? 

That evening, my mom scooped Chicken Dumplings into a soup bowl, placing a bread roll on the side of the plate that was sitting underneath before sending me on my way to deliver his food.

I hated this.

I hate walking down this stupid fucking pathway to his rabbit shack of a home with my hands burning from the hot plate or bowl of food all because he didn't want to join us, or well.. I guess doesn't feel like he has the right, no matter how many times he's invited.

I knocked on the blue door, Harry calling out that it was open, my face scrunched as I twisted the knob, walking into what appeared to be an empty living space.

"Harry?" I called out, setting the bowl on the small table.

The bathroom door opened, Harry walking out, sweatpants sitting on his hips as a new black shirt covered his torso. Hair dripping wet, his fingers running through it, shuffling it around a bit before shoving it out of his face as he walked to the table.

God he looked yummy.

I tried to inhale as he got closer, hoping to inhale the scent of whatever he just bathed in, only to just smell my mothers Chicken Dumplings.

Harry sat down, sliding the plate over to him, grabbing the spoon only to look up at me.

"What?" He asked, "Did I forget something? Your dad said it looked good" He said, more so sounding worried rather than confident that  he's done for  the day.

"No, I uh.. um.. are you sure you don't want to come over for dinner?" I tried again, Harry giving a small nod as he spooned the soup into his mouth. "You're welcomed Harry. You've always been welcomed" I continued, wishing he felt worthy of joining our family.

Harry pulled out his phone, starting to scroll through it, silently dismissing me.

I sighed, leaving his house and walking back down that stupid dirt pathway that led right back to the gray rickety wooden stairs that flexed even more under my feet.

 I grabbed my bowl, dishing up my food as my dad and Grandma sat down; my brothers asking my mother something when Mimi asked, "Harry isn't joining us?" I shook my head, grabbing a roll, dishing myself the same way my mom did for Harry.

"Do guys mind if I eat alone tonight? I just want to decompress after today" I asked, my dad and Mimi shaking their heads, Grandma too caught up in whatever my mom had just asked her.

I thanked them, slipping away and walking down the hall towards my bedroom before taking a quick right turn down a hallway, slipping out a back door and quickly walking down the same dirt pathway.

Is this a bad choice? Am I royally fucking up right now? Should I just leave him alone? He didn't seem like he wanted to be around me.

I couldn't help but think about his confession of having to earn his keep. Of not being family; just being an employee.

He was far more than an employee.

I quickly knocked on the door again, having an internal war with myself of if I should make a run for it, the blue door opening, Harry looking confused.

"Did I forget something? I can do it right now" He stated, moving to slip on his shoes.

I quickly shook my head, "No. You're done for tonight" I eased, watching him freeze, looking up from his shoes to me. 

"Then... what are you doing here?" He asked, his eyes falling on the same dinner I had just delivered, looking even more confused.

"Do you mind if I join you for dinner?"

* * * *

I'm finally hitting the point in my outline where things start moving hehe

Written on: September 25th, 26th, 27th 2023

Published on: September 27th 2023

Word Count: 3869

Part Five

[imaginedreamwrite]

Fuck around and find out:

I just wanna see sweet snowbird completely losing it towards Curtis ex wife as she shows up out of nowhere at their farm and demands that half of it is hers. Snowbird tells her off, meets every comment made towards her with a retort that stings so much worse and to top it off she sends her a pile of cow poop a few weeks later. Curtis doesn't get a single word in while his ex wife is there and they never hear from her again after that.

The woman coming up the drive could have once been described as beautiful, stunning even, if it hadn’t been for the overuse of Botox and cosmetic surgeries to make her appear younger and more youthful. She had appeared randomly on the farm in a rented SUV with platinum hubcaps that had been marked with dust from the road, though the vehicle had parked far enough away from the house to make her have to walk.

“Curtis-“

“Mrs. Everett,” one of the hands had stood before you could, holding a hand out to you to ease you back against the porch swing, “let me handle this, ma’am.”

You could hear Curtis inside shuffling around, he was busy in the kitchen making you tea and likely had no idea what was going on. The hand who was departing the porch, Scott, had already headed down to meet the woman while you settled back on the swing.

You rest a hand on your belly, inhaling and exhaling slowly, your baby’s quickening drawing your attention momentarily. You were already 17 weeks and hormonal more often than not, though no one had ever bade you ire for your symptoms.

“My ex-husband! My ex-husband is hiding-” your ears perked at the sound of her voice and you started to stand just as the door had opened and Curtis joined you on the porch.

“Sweetheart, go back inside.” Curtis had tried to urge you inside, his eyes hardened and unwelcoming.

“You! You owe me half of what you’ve built! You owe me so damn much and you’ve done nothing-“ she started toward Curtis, her finger pointed at him as she screamed shrilly.

“Go home, Trish. Get back in your vehicle and go home.” Curtis had held his arm out to protect you, to shield you from going further. “Leave me and my wife alone.”

“That whore-!” She raised her hand again, point her finger toward you.

“Whore?” You stepped around Curtis and smacked her hand out of your face, your pregnancy hormones stirring your primordial urge to fling her off a cliff. “You show up on my property like some decrepit crypt-keeper and call me a whore?”

“Your property? This rightfully belongs to me! Half of it is mine!” She shrieked, her voice aggravating and testing. “Curtis you fool-!”

“You’re divorced you absolute fucktard!” You stepped toward the woman, your ire and your anger turning animalistic. “In case you haven’t forgotten, you are no longer married, and you signed a prenup which you insisted on.”

“I did not-!” She denied your claim, stuttering and stumbling.

“Has every brain cell been fucked out of your mind? Or was it the coke that did it?”

“You little bitch-“ The chance to retire ended when Curtis had pulled you behind him, steeling himself in front of you, standing off against his ex wife.

“You can’t be within 100 feet of this place. I’m giving you once chance to leave before I call the cops.” One hand was held behind him, the gentle touch calming him and easing you.

“Curtis I swear-“

“Talk through my lawyer. I have nothing else to say to you.” He turned and led you back into the house, still keeping close to you until the vehicle had pulled away, and then he relaxed.

“I’m sending cow shit to her in the mail. A whole fucking box.”

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (chapter 10 - FINALE)

series masterlist

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 6k

warnings: implied smut, angst, fluff, romcom tropes, lots of swearing, pregnancy mention/minor breeding kink

note: click the asterisk for a hyperlink to a translation when the time comes

Six months later...

“It’s good!” she beamed, setting down the last chunk of pages and taking off her reading glasses. “Oh man, that ending hurt, but it’s really, really good!”

You leaned back into the plush chair and sighed with relief. “You think so?”

“It’s best-seller material,” she assured. “With some editing, of course. God, I can’t believe you were sitting on this for so long.”

“What are the biggest changes you want to make?” you asked.

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll cut the romantic subplot,” she mentioned in passing, like it was no big deal. “It’s distracting.

“Distracing?” you repeated. “Nia, it’s the story. It’s a romance.”

“I thought it was a thriller,” she frowned.

“A romance disguised as a thriller,” you corrected.

“Listen, I get what you mean, but I didn’t get this—” she tapped the nameplate on her desk: ‘NIA BROWN, HEAD PUBLISHER’ in shiny letters— “for nothing. I know what I’m talking about, and I know what your readers want. Violence, gore, drama!”

“It has all that!” you defended. “But it’s all there to talk about the real love he finds in her!”

“What do you mean ‘real love’?” she pressed flatly.

“I mean…” you pondered. “I mean love where you feel like a version of yourself that you actually like. Love where you feel unjudged, no precedents or caveats or back-up plans. Love that fucking hurts because you never wanted to rely on anything or anybody. Love that lives in silence because you don’t even need words.”

She furrowed her brow. “That… sounds nice, I guess, but I don’t think anybody really has that. Everybody needs a back-up plan. Everybody needs words— a writer should know that.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” you groaned, your face falling into your hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, I’m a moron.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I had that! I had that, and I let it go! I’m the dumbest bitch on the fucking face of the Earth.”

“Don’t say that,” she soothed, but you were already standing up.

“No, I need to find him,” you decided as you grabbed your coat and briefcase. “I need to go back and try to fix this. I love him, I’ve never— I didn’t know I could love like that, I didn’t know I could be loved like that… oh my god, I need to find him. It isn’t over.”

“It isn’t over?” she repeated incredulously. “You said Michael signed the papers!”

“It’s not Michael,” you rolled your eyes as you stormed out of the office. “It was never Michael.”

You ran into the first telephone box you could find, slamming the door shut as you searched your purse for the business card that probably wasn't even in there.

After a moment, you gasped with delight when you pulled it from a very bottom pocket and began punching in the number as fast as possible with shivering hands, long-distance charges be damned.

“Hello?” the confused voice on the other end answered.

“Mrs. Alberti, hi— does Sebastian still work for you?” you asked hastily.

“No, dear," she sighed, apparently recognizing you by just your voice (and likely your request), "he quit recently, and moved away.”

“Moved?" you repeated with a wrinkled brow. "Where?!”

“I assume back home, sweetheart; to Bucharest.”

“Shit,” you sighed. “Shit!”

“Are you having your ‘run through the airport’ moment, sweetheart?” she realized.

“Yes, I think so— do you have his address?”

“Well, no, but I’ll see what I can find.”

You waited rather impatiently as she shuffled through papers in the background, mumbling to herself as she apparently searched for information that could help you.

“All I’ve got is the address of a previous employer… a carpenter,” she finally explained, breaking the silence. “It was his only reference when he came to work here," she explained.

"Wow, you really did just hire him for his looks," you blurted out.

"He was desperate for work, that boy had nowhere else to go,” she defended.

“Right, well, I guess if that’s my only lead then I’ve gotta go for it,” you decided. “Thank you, Mrs. Alberti.”

“I told you to call me when that book was a hit. Did it happen yet?” she piped up.

“It’s not published yet,” you explained. “It needs some more work… but I think it’s almost ready.”

“I think so, too, dear.”

Learn Romanian in 10 Weeks! A practical language guide.

Week 1, Day 1: Greetings

Hello                      Salut

Goodbye                La revedere

Thank you              Mulțumesc

You’re welcome      Cu plăcere

Good morning         Bună dimineata

Good afternoon       Bună ziua

Good evening          Bună seara

Good night               Noapte bună

You brushed your hair back out of your face with a sigh, turning the page as you mumbled the phrases to yourself. Broken Hungarian and your high school education in Latin were not getting you as far with this as you had been hoping.

How are you?          Ce mai faci

I love you                 Te iubesc

“Te iubesc, te iubesc, te iubesc,” you repeated over and over in a whisper.

Each day you had a new routine: practice Romanian for an hour, check flight prices online (or call the airline), research what you knew about Sebastian and the address Mrs. Alberti had given you, and then get back to practicing Romanian again.

Oh, and occasionally you worked on the edits Nia wanted for your manuscript. You were focusing on the minor changes— grammar errors, rearranging sentences— and putting off her big request for the removal and replacement of the romantic aspects. More than ever, they seemed like the most important thing the book had to offer.

You had a small apartment, just a place to sleep and shower really; much too small to fit everything you’d already taken from Michael’s house (you know, the one that used to be your house) along with what he’d shipped to you that you forgot before. He included a letter in the package as well. You threw it out, unopened.

Truthfully, you never really fully unpacked. As much as you realized you probably should, in order to really feel like you had a real home, you couldn’t bring yourself to empty your suitcases when you knew you’d be packing them again any day now.

You also realized how outrageous this all was. Ignoring the unlikelihood of even finding him in the first place, Sebastian probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you broke his heart, left, and then randomly tracked him down after over half a year. But to be totally transparent, you weren’t really doing this to get him back, necessarily. You knew that was probably never going to happen. You were doing this because you needed to try. You needed to go there, and get hurt, and come back knowing you did everything you could: you’d never be able to live with yourself if you did anything less than that.

You couldn’t start your new life until you had put everything else to bed. And if that meant being 100%, painfully certain that you and Sebastian could never be together, then that was just how it needed to be.

After two weeks of looking, there still weren’t any reasonable flights to Bucharest, so you booked another trip by train, figuring you could use the three day trip to brush up on the key Romanian phrases you were going to need as well as prepare your speech.

Yes, your plan was a speech. You didn’t have a back-up plan. You didn’t even have a return ticket back to London yet.

A passage by Yeats came to mind; But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

In all your life, you’d never understood before why someone would want to only have their dreams. But now, here you were… and yes, it felt terrifying and vulnerable and uncomfortably naked, but it felt pretty damn good, too.

With a sigh, you scribbled out the last sentence you’d written, tossing the trash paper aside. You looked up out the window at the scenery flying by in a blur, worried that if you didn’t look out from the train every once in a while you’d get motion sickness.

The sun was beginning to set already, the green of hills and trees tinted orange. You only indulged in it for a moment, though, before getting back to this god-forsaken speech you were deadset on finishing before you arrived in Bucharest tomorrow. At first, you’d figured the translating would be the most difficult part… but writing in English wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, either. You had so much to say, and suddenly so few words for any of it.

You’d probably done more editing on this than any of your novels combined; the crumpled up pages spilling out of your wastebasket were proof enough of that.

“And I’m a fucking writer!” you groaned aloud, to no one in particular. “How is anybody else supposed to be able to do this, if I can’t?”

Other people aren’t as emotionally constipated as you, the voice of your inner critic reminded you plainly, making you roll your eyes at yourself.

A rap at your door made you sit up straighter and turn around. A stewardess slid open the frosted glass slightly to give you a friendly smile. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of her accent. “Is that a Romanian accent?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded.

“So you’re fluent in Romanian and English,” you concluded.

“And Portuguese, yes ma’am,” she agreed.

“Could you come in here for a moment and help me translate something?”

She seemed slightly confused at the request but stepped forward, sliding the door most of the way shut behind her. Leaning beside you on the desk, she picked up your handwritten letter and blinked her wide, brown eyes a few times. You felt slightly embarrassed knowing she was reading such intimate thoughts, but that was how it felt the first time someone read anything you wrote so you were pretty much used to it by now.

“I usually ask the passengers what brings them to Bucharest,” she mumbled after a moment. “This is the most interesting thing so far. Am I reading this correctly, that you intend to confess your love to someone you met—” she scanned the page quickly— “during a vacation in Hungary?”

“Yup,” you smiled awkwardly, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“And he doesn’t speak English?” she assumed; you nodded. “And… you don’t speak Romanian?”

You nodded again, and she breathed in and out quickly, sitting beside you as she stared at the letter.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she explained.

“Sorry for sucking you into the entropic vortex that is my life,” you chuckled.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she sighed, setting the letter down, and you laughed a little internally at the idea that she was worried about prying when she just read the most personal piece of writing you’d ever put to the page, “but do you think this is… enough? I mean, to build a relationship on?”

You just gave her a shrug. “I have no idea. But, you know, I spent my whole life worrying about stuff like that. I dated my husband for seven years before we got married, because I wanted to be sure. I was initially interested in him because he was successful and ambitious, and it made me feel like this was a really secure relationship that I could rely on. I double majored in English and Computer Science because I wanted a more stable career to fall back on in case being a writer didn’t work out, and even though it did, I’ve spent most of my career publishing what I thought people wanted to read instead of what I wanted to write, so I’d have a better shot at a good paycheck. I grew up thinking the best thing I could ever have was security. And now I’m divorced, watching my royalties shrink every month, more insecure in every way than I’ve ever been, and I’m realizing that the choices I made didn’t give me what I wanted. I gave up so much in the name of safety, and I let the one good thing I’d ever found go, so I could go back to being the same person I always was. I’m ready to settle again, if this doesn’t work… I’m ready to accept that this is just the way life goes, and be thankful that I got a taste of the kind of stuff I thought only existed in the sort of books I’d read but never write.”

She swallowed as she looked at you, and you felt your eyes water as you stared out the window towards the dimming scenery one more time, smiling at the sight of a distant village, a church with a steeple, vineyards and farms. Someone’s whole life is in that little town, you imagined, and they’re just watching your train go by like they see every other day.

“Sebastian gave me more security than I’d ever had before, even though the whole thing was such a ridiculous little whirlwind, and nothing like I ever imagined my life could be. But he made me want to be honest and raw and write sappy letters like the one you just read. He doesn’t have any money, at least as far as I know, and I haven’t known him for seven years, and on paper it makes no sense… but you would understand if you knew him. If you felt that joy that he radiates, if you saw him live his simple little life like it’s the best thing in the world. You would understand if you knew how much I needed this. You would understand if you had been just as miserable being who I’ve been for so long, and finally had a chance to be somebody you think you were maybe meant to be the whole time. So, if I never see him again, I hope I just get to thank him.”

You waited for her to say something, but furrowed your brow at the long moment of silence, looking back from the window finally and finding her staring at you with a tear running down her cheek. When you met her gaze, she quickly wiped it away with a sniffle and looked down at your desk again. “Let’s get to translating, shall we?” she announced with a half-smile.

You noticed the way the other passengers looked at you as everyone was in line to deboard from the train car; you stuck out like a sore thumb, since everybody else was carrying heavy luggage and all you had was a backpack.

In your defense, you really had no idea how to pack for a trip where you knew neither the duration nor the true final destination. So, it was mainly filled with your essentials, a few clothes for any kind of weather, and enough leu to buy anything else you needed along the way.

The stewardess was waving goodbye to everyone as they shuffled out into the train station, occasionally stopping to shake a hand or give directions to nearby destinations. When you were just about to pass by, though, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Good luck,” she whispered, holding you just a moment too long before pulling back and giving you an encouraging look. “If he doesn’t take you back, feel free to blame my translation… because if he knows what’s in your heart, I know he’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part isn’t it?” you laughed weakly. “Thank you for your help. I guess if I come back alone for the return trip tonight, you’ll know how bad it went.”

“Then I hope I don’t see you again,” she winked.

It being a major train station and all, cabs were waiting around every corner so it was pretty easy to grab one and give them the address you already had written down for this exact purpose.

“This is pretty far,” the driver explained, “on the edge of town. Not a tourist spot.”

“Good, because I’m not a tourist,” you nodded, already only giving him half your attention as you pulled out the translated speech to practice.

“And you can afford this?” he pressed. You sighed and dug through your bag, pulling out a haphazard stack of bills and handing them through the plastic partition.

“Is this enough?” you asked, and he didn’t answer, just taking the money and starting the car as you smiled and leaned back in your seat.

As much as you had tried to convince yourself to not get your hopes up, the butterflies in your stomach felt more like whole birds at this point, demanding to break free as you practiced the words hand-written on the page over and over again, committing it all to memory.

“What are you reading?” the cab driver asked after several minutes.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumbled, “sorry if I’m bothering you, you can turn on the radio.”

“No, it’s not bothering me, but what you are saying… it’s very odd. It sounds like something from a play, or movie,” he explained.

“Um, it’s not,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “But does it sound like it’s from a good movie? Like, if you heard a character say this to another character, would you think they should get together?”

“I… don’t know,” he answered, sounding confused. “I mean, it depends on what happened, right? How they met, how well they get along…”

So, you told him the whole story, as succinctly as possible (which is not very succinct at all). By the end, he was actually giving commentary as you spoke.

“Why the hell did you leave?” he interjected, clearly irritated with you. “You loved him!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough! I loved my husband too, and look how that turned out,” you defended.

“But that’s different. That was love for all the wrong reasons.”

“I promise, it felt very real at the time,” you shrugged.

“And now?” he countered. “You realize that this man— Sebastian, right?— is real.”

“I hope I’m right this time,” you offered. “But even if I am, he may not agree.”

The driver scoffed, taking a hand off the wheel to wave dismissively. “If he’s anything like you said, then he will still be completely in love with you. After all, you still feel the same way after all this time apart, don’t you?”

“If anything, I love him more every day,” you admitted, your heart beating quickly just to say it aloud.

“You know, when I met my wife, she was engaged to another man. He was rich, good-looking, and he wasn’t even a bad guy unlike this husband you describe. He was a good man, but he wasn’t right for her. They were… content together, but she wasn’t truly happy. Every night I would come to her window and beg her to marry me, because I knew that she knew we were meant for each other, but she was scared because her family wouldn’t approve and she would be a poor man’s wife.”

“How did you convince her to marry you instead?” you asked eagerly, sucked into the story already.

“I didn’t. On the day of the wedding, some people told me to go and break it up but I didn’t. I thought it would be wrong, to try to ruin her happiness and take it for myself by making a scene at the wedding. I realized she was her own woman and if she wanted to choose him, I had to let her. I had locked myself in my house, not wanting to see anyone that day, and she appeared at my door. I didn’t need to convince her because she knew the truth in her heart, and called off the wedding herself.”

“Wow,” you smiled.

“She was still in her dress!” he recalled with a hearty laugh. “She looked like an angel. We were married just a few days later. And next month will be thirty years,” he added as he lifted his left hand to show the golden band on his finger.

“Thirty years, that’s… a long time,” you sighed.

“It wasn’t always easy,” he admitted. “But it was always worth it.”

Just as you wondered what you could possibly say to that, you felt the car slow down to a stop.

“This is the address you gave me, this is it,” he explained, pointing out his passenger-side window. You leaned up against the glass and gasped in dawning fear as you saw the storefront dark and empty inside.

“No, nonono,” you whispered rapidly to yourself as you swung open the door and hopped out, pressing your face against the glass to try to get a look inside and finding what was undeniably a closed carpentry business. There was a note on the door, taped on the inside of the glass, and you knew enough Romanian to know it said something about a vacation and three months.

“Shit!” you yelped, holding your face in your hands, wondering if your journey had come to an end before it really began.

“Are you alright?” the driver asked, rolling down his window to speak to you.

“This was my only lead, I don’t have his real address,” you explained. “He used to work here, I thought maybe someone would know him…”

He sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “Get back in, we can search nearby. You came too far to give in yet.”

But getting back in the car felt like giving in, too, which you realized as you looked back at the note taped to the carpenter's door. This was the closest you'd gotten, and it felt wasteful to leave with nothing.

Just as you were ready to hop in the passenger seat and start searching aimlessly through suburban Bucharest, or maybe look around for a Romanian yellow pages, you heard a noise from behind you, across the street; a laugh. His laugh. But it couldn’t be because it was too good to be true… and yet you found yourself whipping your head around and hoping beyond all reason that it was Sebastian.

Across the street was a restaurant, with a large patio where patrons were dining and chatting as they sat at wrought iron tables, and your eyes searched the crowd for any signs of him.

And then your gaze landed on a head of thick brunette hair, red and gold highlights so obvious now when the sunlight hit it this way. Broad shoulders wrapped in a white button-up shirt. He was facing away from you but he was looking to the side so you could see his face; he was smiling, laughing at something someone had said. And it was his smile that you recognized; it was like everything else faded away, and in that moment you thought maybe you could almost be happy with just this, just seeing him be happy even if it had nothing to do with you.

“Sebastian,” you called out to him, but he didn’t react. “Sebastian!”

His whole body turned, his eyes met yours, and you couldn't help but let the tears well in your eyes as you ran across the road to him.

He looked, understandably, stunned, and you realized he was actually waiting on a table at the moment; he said something to them, apparently excusing himself, and stepped closer to you.

But he stopped walking, not coming any closer, not exactly dragging you into his arms like you might've preferred, but with a breath to try to soothe your racing mind, you summoned your memories of the practiced letter and began. *

“Când am venit în Ungaria…” you started slowly, doing your best to remember the words and hoping your pronunciation wasn’t too awful, “nu căutam dragoste. Căutam spațiu, claritate și poate o idee de carte de un milion de dolari. În schimb, am găsit tot ce am căutat toată viața mea…”

You did your best to bite back tears, especially when his expression was nearly unreadable and you had no idea how well this was going.

“Ești tu, Sebastian, bineînțeles că ești tu,” you sighed, laughing slightly. “Ai fost acolo pentru mine când nici nu știam ce vreau de la nimeni. Ai fost prietenul meu fără să spui vreodată un cuvânt - cel puțin nu un cuvânt pe care l-am înțeles. M-ai iubit și nu știam ce să fac cu asta, pentru că uitasem cu mult timp în urmă cum se simțea să fii iubit. Și ce simțeai să iubești cu adevărat pe cineva. Dar te iubesc. Și am fost prost să te las să pleci, atât de neconceput de prost. Vreau să fim noi, Sebastian. Lasă-mă să te iubesc, mai dă-mi o șansă și îți promit că nu te voi mai lăsa să pleci niciodată.

The first thing he said was your name, and just the way he said it made you fall in love with him all over again.

“I… I dream that you would come back,” he shakily replied. “But now I cannot believe. You are my dream.”

Tears were openly flowing at this point and you wanted to run into his arms, but you tried to stay calm and hear him out. He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like you would run away if he got too close too fast.

“I love you, very much that I am sure I am insane person,” he explained with a grin, and you giggled. “We will live anywhere, do anything you would like— be my wife.”

You gasped as he pulled you into him, gripping your arms tightly as his desperation became apparent.

“Marry me?” he asked softly.

“Da,” you nodded, “yes, of course, anything—”

He kissed you suddenly, but gently, and it said more than any words in any language could.

It was a small wedding, in the Hungarian countryside by the lake. You could remember diving into that lake for lost pages of your manuscript; you could remember looking out over the water and dreaming of this moment you were living right now, thinking it was impossible.

He didn’t have much family, but they welcomed you with open arms.

Your family, well, they were too busy with planning another wedding, for your ex-husband and your ex-sister. A few of them sent cards but the rest were suspiciously quiet. You honestly didn’t even notice… you had a new family to attend to, anyhow. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any guests, since you were able to track down and invite a stewardess named Maria, and a cab driver named Andrei and his wife, Paola.

Sebastian’s cousins weaved flowers into your hair and his grandmother tailored her dress to fit you like a glove. A picture of his parents was hung nearby in tribute; he told you they would’ve wanted to see him get married but that he felt, in some way, they were able to even if they had passed away quite some time ago.

You realized you’d never seen him in anything even mildly formal before; in fact, the suit he wore was rather casual, all things considered, but he looked so painfully cute in it. Sometimes you thought he actually looked a bit out of place wearing a shirt, though, especially one that was buttoned up all the way.

Luckily, the shirt was halfway unbuttoned about ten minutes into the reception.

Mrs. Alberti cooked a massive dinner for everyone, and even grew the flowers that you carried down the cobblestone aisle.

And wow, can Romanians drink. You had to be careful not to try to keep up with them, because if you had you would’ve been blacked out halfway into the night and the last thing you wanted was to forget even a moment of this.

As the night started to wind down to a close, you and your new husband retired to the lakehouse, running up the stairs and finding them as creaky as always.

He wrapped his arms around you in the hall and kissed you eagerly as you stumbled back into the bedroom, tripping over the doorway and falling onto the bed together.

It felt so right to have his weight on top of you, to feel his smile against your lips, to wrap your arms around his neck.

“This room,” he mumbled into the kiss. “Do you remember first time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “da, I remember, how could I forget?”

He grinned and moved his lips down to your neck. "I thought of you every day… I love you,” he whispered.

“Te iubesc,” you whispered back.

It was almost like the first time in so many ways: passionate, yet oddly hesitant as you rediscovered each other. It was comfortable, though… you couldn’t think of any other person you felt so comfortable with, somebody who finally got you out of your own head and who made you want to experience everything life had to offer.

You were sure you’d never gone so long without worrying about something in all your life.

“My wife,” he whispered against your skin. “This is all I had wanted… from seeing you in very beginning.”

“You’re all I ever wanted,” you sighed in return, “ești tot ce mi-am dorit vreodată, Sebastian.”

Life with Sebastian was beautifully simple. You spent most of the day writing, usually, while he built furniture to sell and occasionally gardened with his spare time. You could always tell how busy you’d been with a new novel lately by how perfectly groomed the hydrangea bushes were.

You’d told him once that you’d come to Hungary looking for a million-dollar book idea. A Killer in Disguise performed alright, but not anywhere near that. The Language of Love, on the other hand, was definitely a million-dollar idea… about eleven times over. Sebastian didn’t seem to worry too much about how much money you made, though; he was just proud to say that he was the inspiration for your hit novel. You secretly suspected that he was more proud of your work reaching enough international notoriety to be translated into Romanian.

His English still needed some work, but you found it endearing. He was determined to get better and spent at least a half-hour each day practicing, but you hoped he wouldn’t get too perfect because you would miss the silly little mistakes he made. At least you could be sure he’d keep the accent forever… damn, that accent; and he knew exactly what it did to you, too.

In fact, you were crossing through the hall in your robe one evening when your husband’s voice stopped you.

“Darling wife,” you heard Sebastian call from the bedroom in a playful sing-song.

“What is it, Seba?” you asked with a smirk.

“Come in here, please…”

You opened the bedroom door to find most of the room covered in rose petals: most of all the bed, which was surrounded by candles, and topped with a shirtless (as per usual) Sebastian, laid on his side seductively with a long-stemmed rose (one you recognized from his very own garden) between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” you laughed. “Is this some sort of special occasion I’ve forgotten?”

You were already searching your mind for what it could be, but your two-year anniversary had passed a few months ago already and since it was spring it couldn’t be the anniversary of when you first met since that was late in the summer.

“Iss not quite a thpecial occathion yeth,” he answered before taking the rose from his mouth so he actually made sense. “I was considering it could be a special occasion, when we’re done…”

You smirked and climbed over the candles and into bed with him, taking the opportunity to run your hands over his chest. “And what occasion would that be?”

“A year from now, it could be the anniversary of when our child was conceived,” he answered.

Your breath caught in your throat, your voice reduced to a whisper of surprise. “Seba—”

“If you’re not ready, I will be understand,” he instantly added, stern yet soft. “Only if you want this, I just thought that maybe—”

You silenced him with a kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair and letting him roll you onto your back. He pulled back just enough to let you answer, but your noses were still bumping into each other and you smiled.

“I’m ready, Sebastian. More than ready,” you whispered.

He grinned and kissed you again, deeper and slower as he held your face with one hand and gripped your waist with the other. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you were interrupted with one pressing thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

He popped up and looked down at you with a smile. “Sure!”

“Why are you wearing ratty old jeans?” you laughed.

“Hey, these worked on you the first time,” he defended.

You gasped. “You don’t mean those are the jeans—”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the jeans that I had been wearing when I was working on Mrs. Alberti’s cottage. And, truly, when I was finding an excuse to work outside your window.”

“Wait,” you sat up, “did you actually work outside my window on purpose?”

He laughed, hanging his head quickly before looking back at you again with a sparkle in his eye. “You are very smart, my love, except for those times when you are— how do you say? Oblivious.”

You chuckled, unfortunately very aware that he was right.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was building a window frame, nearly a dozen metres away from the window it was for?”

You thought for a moment before dropping your face into your hands and laughing. “No, I didn’t notice that. I was too busy giving you a thorough eye-fuck,” you recalled.

“Yes, because I was not wearing a shirt and this distracted you,” he pondered, sounding suddenly like a scientist explaining a theorem or something. “See, that’s the beauty of wearing the jeans and no shirt. The body distracts you while the jeans seduce you.”

“How about you take the jeans off and put that body on me, capisce?” you pleaded; not that you didn’t love his humor or anything, but maybe his funny bone wasn’t exactly the bone you were interested in at the moment.

He grinned devilishly and suddenly pulled your legs apart, settling his body between them as he kissed your neck again, nipping at your jawline and ear. “You’re being impatient, dragă,” he purred. “You want to have my baby that badly?”

You whined involuntarily, arching your back as his hands roamed your body and finally began to untie your robe and push the silk out of the way. “Yes, Sebastian, please—”

“Let’s just say, theoretically, I wanted to have more than one? Would you have another of my children?” he asked softly as he reached up and palmed at your breasts, teasing your nipples which were already much too hard and sensitive for how little he’d touched you. The rough denim rubbing against the inside of your thighs was oddly arousing— maybe it was the sensation itself, or maybe it was just that this was almost like the first thing you imagined when you saw Sebastian all those years ago.

“Yes,” you moaned out your answer, “yes, you know I’d do anything for you.”

“What if I wanted a big family?” he pressed. “Really big? Like, Catholic big?”

“We can have our own fuckin’ Brady Bunch, Seb, I just need you right now,” you begged, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a hot and desperate kiss.

He decided to wait until afterwards to ask what a ‘Brady Bunch’ was. You decided to wait until afterwards to ask when he’d learned how to use the word ‘theoretically’.

sfarsit; the end

[xxreader-writerxx]

Seven Minutes In Heaven

Word Count: 1.8k

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Warnings: Somewhat brief smut in the beginning, cursing, use of condom, underage drinking,

A/N: My mind won’t let go of this idea. And I made some inaccurate things. Come at me. But don’t really I’m an adorable, fragile, cute hufflepuff.

Y/N= Your Name L/N= Your Last Name Y/H= Your House, Y/N/N: Your Nickname

I walk into Fred’s dorm as he guides me not separating our heavy kiss. He tries closing the door and lock it but keeps missing the lock chuckling against my lips. He places his forehead against mine. “Damn door...” He mumbles laughing lightly and I bite my lip to hold in my laughter. “You can lock it Freddie.” I tell him and he gives me a quick peck before turning and locking the door. The party muffled by the wooden barrier between us and the raging celebration for Gryffindor winning the latest game. He turns back smiling and resumes our kiss. We walk to the bed, falling on it when my legs hit the edge. He laughs against my lips and I start to pull off his shirt.

“Are you sure darling?” He asks after pulling it off. I nod shyly and he smiles climbing on top of me leaving love bites all over my neck and I stop him quickly. “Do you have a condom?” I ask and he reaches into his pocket. He pops up searching hgis person. “Shit. I don’t. Don’t worry I will get it j-just stay here.” He tells me kissing me longingly before shoving his shirt over his head. “Ok.” I mumble as he sighs quietly. I pull him in for one more kiss as he finally pulls away to run out the door.

***Fred’s POV***

I race through the party looking for the one person I know always has a condom at a party. The man with an actual girlfriend instead of pining after one gorgeous girl non-stop. Well I guess I’m not anymore based on Y/n asking if there could be strings attached, if this could mean we could be together, and I stupidly answered with ‘Consider me pinocchio.’ which she cutely answered with ‘So you want to end up with no strings?’ Which made me fall harder than I already did.

I run over to where George is snogging with Angelina and grab his wallet. He slams his hand on the wallet turning to me. “The fick you think you’re doing mate?” He asks and I tug at the wallet. “I need a condom.” I say and he scoffs. “The bloody hell you need it for? Who would fuck you?” He chuckles and I smack the back of his head. “A hot girl who is laying in my bed right now.” I say finally stealing the wallet, digging through. He gets up trying to take it. I grab the stack and look at him squirting. “Why the hell do you have so many who’s fucking you this much?” I ask and he tries grabbing it. “Babe I have like ten in my drawer in my dorm. Give him at least one.” Angelina says and I point at her. “It’s the dignity of it.” He says.

After minutes of fighting I finally get annoyed. “Fine. Rock paper scissors for it. I win, I get it. I lose, I don’t.” I tell him and he nods. We play and he wins cheering for himself. “Fine shit head.” I say and grab my pocket knife cutting the packages. “Fuck you.” I say running off. I find Lee and he looks at me confused. “Have you seen Y/n? I can’t find her.” He asks and I shrug. “Dunno but do you have a condom?” I ask and he nods, digging through his wallet. “Here.” He says and hands me the one my size. I look at him with an eyebrow raised. “What? I’m the dad of the group. I gotta know these things.” He says and I just shake my head running off.

***Your POV***

I waited playing with my skirt for Fred to come back fearing he was just doing a cruel prank on me. I hear the door burst open and Fred breathing heavily. “Thank Godric.” He breathes out walking over quickly to kiss me. “Why did I hear George banging on the door?” I ask when we separate. “I cut his greedy condoms in half” He mumbles and I laugh as he kisses me hungrily soon melting into the kiss. He tears off his shirt and before pulling mine off looks up at me and I nod at the silent question for consent. He pulls it off and moves from my neck to my chest leaving small purple spots on my breasts.

“God I’ve been wanting to do this forever...” He mumbles and I nod in agreement, running my fingers through his ginger hair.

I’m soon underneath him moaning his name as he thrusts harder and harder into me, kissing my chest messily. “Faster Freddie….” I moan out and he complies, going harder and faster at a bruising pace. He pulls my leg over his shoulder adding a better angle making us both moan louder than before. “Go on darling tell me how good I’m making you feel.” He says slowing a little to kiss my thigh before going faster.

A few more minutes later and we both moan out in our fast brough orgasms. Fred pulls out and soon plops down next to me smiling with sweat beading over his eyebrows. “Godric we should’ve done that long ago.” He breathes out smiling goofily. I just nod just trying to catch my breath. He rubs my thighs lightly, kissing my hips. “Are you alright?” He asks and my smile widens as I nod happily.

***

I wake exhausted and mixed in Fred’s legs. The night was filled with amazing sex and more amazing aftercare from Fred. Now the amazing ginger locked boy is fast asleep. I smile at his calm face that is hidden behind his hair and highlighted by the sun peaking through his window. I kiss his forehead as he hums lightly in his sleep.

I start moving to get up but he tries grabbing me pulling me in. “Stay...” He mumbles and I laugh. “I’m getting food...” I sing into his ear and he ignores me nuzzling into my chest. “Don’t...” He mutters into my chest and I chuckle. “I’ll kiss you if you let me get food.” I offer and he puckers his lips and I place a peck on his lips. I shuffle out of his grasp as he whines lightly. “Baby....” He cries and I laugh. “I’ll be back. Keep being cute.” I tell him and he gives a lazy salute before hugging his pillow.

Me and Fred have been dating since the fateful party three weeks ago. We decided not to tell the group for the pure chaos of it. Agreeing we will tell them at least at two months if they haven’t cracked the case. I get to the great hall grabbing a plastic to-go tupperware from the edge of the table and walk over to the group. I dig through the food, placing a breakfast for me and Fred in the tupperwares. When I finish I kiss the boys heads goodbye and the girl’s cheeks getting a playful smack on the arse from Katie.

I get back to Fred’s dorm to see him still entangled in his sheets. I strip from my shorts and jumper quickly then sit on the bed, rubbing his legs lightly. “Hi baby...” I hum and he looks at me grumpily. “Why did you take so long...” He whines and I hold up the food. “I got you pancakes” I tell him and he sits up smiling. “I love you...” He mutters and I kiss his forehead nodding.

We eat together joking around until we finish and Fred gets bored tackling me into a cuddle. “Love me!” He exclaims while tackling me evilly. He kisses my neck lightly making me giggle

***

Me and Fred enter the common room joking around about a strange debate when George calls us over. “Before we go over. I wanted to ask. Is Saturday still good for Hog’s Head?” He asks and I nod smiling. We plop down in the circle they made. “What are we playing?” Fred asks and George smiles. “Truth or Dare.” He tells him and we nod compliantly.

We moved into George’s dorm after an hour of playing.“Katie truth or dare?” George asks and she picks dare. “I dare you… To take off an article of clothing every time someone picks a dare.” He says earning a slap on the head from me and Angelina.

A few more minutes later and I get picked. “Ummm Dare.” I say and Katie smiles. “Sit on George’s lap.” She says plainly and we all but Fred laughs. “Katie… I thought we both knew I liked Fred.” I whisper in her ear and she smiles. “Yeah, make him jealous...” She whispers and I chuckle, shaking my head. I try to move but feel Fred’s grip on my wrist behind our backs where he was holding my hand. “Don’t” He whispers in my ear and I find my way out of his firm but not tight grip. I move over and George laughs, shaking his head. “Godric, this is weird. You’re like my sister Y/N/N” George laughs and I nod agreeing.

An hour later we’re all giggly but I feel Fred’s stare on me the whole time. “Ok dare.” I say and Katie groans, tearing off her skirt. “You all suck.” She mumbles and I laugh. “Ok… I dare you to spin this bottle whoever it lands on you have to spend seven minutes in heaven with whoever it lands on.” Angelina tells me and I nod, grabbing the bottle in her hand. I spin it and it slowly lands on Katie but suddenly gets bumped to Fred by a flick of Katie’s hidden wand. I look at her and she giggles lightly.

Before I say anything I get dragged to George’s walk in closet and shoved into the door as he hungrily roams my mouth with his tongue that he shoved past my lips quickly. “D-darling…” I mumble as he goes to my neck and he ignores me while leaving dark purple hickeys along my neck. “You are mine, got that?” He finally says when needing to breathe. I nod quickly as he rams his lips back against mine. I feel his hips grind against mine as he tries to relieve some of the tension.

Finally we hear a knock on the door signaling the seven minute mark. We go out and before I can sit on the floor I feel pulled onto Fred’s lap and his hand firmly on my thigh. “Ooh… Got a girlfriend Freddie?” Katie asks and he squeezes my thigh. “Yep. I think she’s my girlfriend based on her going on multiple dates with me for the past month.” He blurts out and I blush furiously, digging my face in his neck. “OH MY GOD YOU BITCH!” Katie yells laughing. “Freddie...” I mumble into his neck and he pulls my chin looking at me smugly. “Are you denying it princess?” He asks and I shake my head shyly. “Thought so.” He says, victorious. He gives me a small peck on the cheek and stands up balancing me on his hips. “I think we’re done playing. I have something to take care of.” He says as George starts ranting about the party where he cut his condoms angrily.

[veilder]

"I thought you left" "Nope, just making pancakes" - Convin

Okay, so, I love this prompt and I promised I'd try to write it so... I actually did this last week at like 2 am and have been too busy to edit it until now. But I'm kinda sick of trying to puzzle it out so just take it please, omg.

(Prompt from this post if anyone's curious.)

Stay

The sun was already high in the sky when Gavin finally blinked awake. He could tell because there was one fuckin sliver of window he could never manage to cover with the blackout curtains hanging up in his bedroom and the goddamn sun was shining right in his fuckin eyes, Jesus Christ! With a groan, he rolled over, squeezing his eyes shut in a futile attempt to go back to sleep. But even that small burst of cognizance had its consequences. Gavin could feel the awareness creeping in fast, God fuckin dammit. Was a little shut-eye too much to ask for? But there was something... Something niggling at the back of his mind. It itched at instincts well-honed by over a decade on the force and not even his most earnest desire to return to oblivion could keep it at bay. Restlessly, Gavin huffed out a disgruntled sigh as he kicked at the covers, frustrated despite himself at being roused after the night he’d had— Like a shock passing through his body, Gavin’s eyes snapped open, memories of the previous evening flashing through is mind. But just as readily, a heaviness settling deep in his heart as he took in the other side of the bed. The sheets were mussed and the pillow indented, a clear sign of its former occupant. Evidence as plain as day told Gavin that last night hadn’t been some delusion or dream. And yet… He reached out a hand, an involuntary, desperate motion, tracing the outline where his partner had lain. Where Connor had lain. But just as he’d feared, the sheets were cold. They matched the ice filling his heart. Slowly shuffling upright, Gavin leaned back against the headboard as memories of the previous day filled his waking mind. Flashes of the case he and Connor had worked together rushed by in a flurry. The tip-off for the perp they’d been tracking for weeks and the reckless chase that followed. The abandoned warehouse. The shootout. Vivid Thirium across dirty concrete. Connor had taken a bullet for him. Gavin remembered staring up into those brown eyes, watching as a splatter of blue burst from his chest. "I'm fine," Connor had said, "the bullet didn't nick anything important." And even though the android had gotten right back up and proceeded to almost single-handedly take down the rest of the hostiles attacking them, it was still a moment Gavin knew would haunt him for a long-ass time. Shit was enough to give him nightmares. It did give him nightmares, in fact. Which is how the two of them had ended up back here. In Gavin's apartment. Together. Because after that little fiasco, after the gang had been arrested and the hostages recovered and both he and Connor had been checked over by a medic and technician respectively, it still left the job far from complete. Needless to say, Gavin had eventually nodded off at his desk after a long night of interrogation and paperwork, the rushes of adrenaline and fear more than even his beloved coffee could contend with. He only meant to rest his eyes for a moment. Just a moment and then he'd finish up. But when he awoke some indeterminate time later, it was to his own voice screaming, Connor's name upon his lips, Connor's blue blood scattered across the darkest corners of his mind, Connor's hand upon his shoulder jostling him awake. The android’s LED was flashing a violent red as he stared Gavin down, his brown eyes wide with worry. Gavin couldn't help but cling to him, something twisting, clenching in his heart and demanding he hold on tightly. From there, things had passed in a blur, though he remembered Fowler's imposing figure ordering the both of them to take the next few days off. Too tired and distressed to argue, Gavin agreed immediately, only too glad to get the fuck out of there and go home. And Connor? Connor insisted he drive Gavin home. Connor insisted he make sure Gavin got to his door. Connor insisted that he get Gavin to his bed. And Gavin, still clinging to the android with every last bit of his flagging strength, let him. Over and over he let the android steer him along, trusting a partner fully for the first time in... For the first time

in far too long. And when Gavin had finally settled, comfortable yet shivering in his too-large bed, he took a moment to insist right back. "Stay," he'd said. One word. One plea. A lifetime of wanting to not be alone wrapped up in a single syllable. A few short weeks of shifting worldviews and growing affections cradled in four letters. A wealth of experience in loss stealthily couched within a breath. Gavin insisted. And Connor stayed. Or, at least Gavin thought he had. Because here and now, in the stupidly bright light of day, he was alone again. Like always. He didn't know why he'd expected otherwise. He really should've known better. After all, why would Connor want to hang around here? Especially after his fuckin embarrassing little act last night, fuck. He probably had loads of things to do. Important... android things... People to meet. Places to be. He wouldn't waste his entire day sitting around in Gavin's shitty apartment while he slept like a log. How fuckin stupid would that be? It didn't mean anything. Gavin told himself this over and over again as he shifted, swinging his legs out from under the covers and onto the floor. Just because they could be considered friends now didn't mean Connor had to drop everything for him. Just because he'd begging him to stay didn't mean Connor owed him anything. He'd probably felt uncomfortable as hell last night, what with Gavin whining and bitching at him like a fuckin child. Probably said what he could to mollify him before getting the hell out of Dodge. Gavin couldn't even blame him for that. Fuck, Connor'd just had emergency maintenance done! Because of Gavin! Like hell he'd want some handsy human all over him for ten straight hours, Jesus Christ. It didn't mean anything. Even if he wished it did. His stomach picked that moment to rumble, thankfully interrupting his little pity-party. Thank fuck. It was too early in the morning (or afternoon technically) to be crying over stupid shit. He was probably just hungry. Yeah, that's it. He's all fuckin emotional cause he hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours. It didn't matter that Connor fucked off ASAP, Gavin could get some waffles delivered. Waffles never fuckin betrayed him. He could trust waffles. With newfound resolve, Gavin stood, fumbling for his phone on the nightstand before scrolling through his food delivery aps to see if he could get waffles from anywhere at two in the fuckin afternoon. With heavy tread he stepped out into the hallway, mouth already watering at the prospect and stomach rumbling again in agreement. Fuck, he could almost smell them already. Wait. No, he can smell them? What the fuck?! Before Gavin could do anything more but stand there in his pajamas, wide-eyed and mystified, a figure stepped into view. Instinctively, Gavin's heart raced, adrenaline flooding his veins as the threat of a home invader cycled through his brain. In that fraction of a second, he was prepared to dive into an all-out brawl with the bastard. He was not in the mood for this shit! But then said bastard's lips quirked into a dazzling grin and a brown-eyed gaze sent Gavin reeling in disbelief. While his brain was preoccupied with keeping his suddenly-weak legs standing, his idiot mouth opened up on it's own: "I thought you left,” he said, choking on his disbelief. Connor (because of course it was Connor) only quirked his head to the side in that cute way he does, looking for all the world like the dogs he so adored. His LED flashed a single, swirling yellow before settling back to blue and he said, "No, I was just making pancakes. I thought perhaps you might be hungry." A strange hesitance entered his voice, some dour note falling across his features. "Did you want me to leave?" "No!" Gavin blurted out in a moronic, high-pitched squeak because again, he was nothing if not an idiot. (And one destined to embarrass himself at every possible moment at that.) Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I mean, you can do whatever you want. Doesn’t matter to me." (He's lying through his teeth. It obviously did matter to him. It

mattered a huge fuckin deal!) Connor blinked at him, the only sign of the awkward atmosphere between them the flashing colors at his temple. "Your words run contrary to both your body language and your involuntary actions," he said, "And they are a direct counterpoint to your request last night." Gavin fidgeted, knowing the damn android was right but never in a million years wanting to admit it. "Stop analyzing me, dipshit, it's too early for this." Finally, Connor's face relaxes a bit, a smile smile stealing across his lips. "It is two thirty-three in the afternoon, Gavin. Far from early." "Oh, can it, Poindexter! You know what I mean!" With a huff, Gavin moves forward, sidling past his annoying house guest. "What was that about pancakes?" Connor beams at him as the two of them enter the kitchen. "Ah yes. I determined that you would be hungry after going so long without food. I managed to make due with your atrocious grocery selection and have prioritized calories over nutrition for the time being. But just this once.” While Connor seemed dead set on critiquing the apparently-lackluster pantry he’d been forced to bravely overcome, Gavin only had eyes for the heaping pile of flapjacks sitting at his breakfast nook, fluffy and golden brown and still steaming. Fresh off the griddle, holy shit. How did he…? Despite his hunger, Gavin looked over at Connor questioningly. It was almost like the android could read his mind (which was a scary fucking thought) as he answered his unspoken query immediately: "I calculated your sleep cycle based off the Circadian rhythms I observed during your convalescence. I'm glad I timed it right. I wanted you to enjoy your breakfast." "It's past 2 pm," Gavin retorted with a smirk, "can't be breakfast now, hotshot." Connor's answering smile made Gavin want to melt into a puddle and he quickly turned away, staring at said breakfast with a helpless desperation. "Indeed," the android said, heedless of his partner's distress. "Regardless of the time of day, I wanted you to enjoy your meal, nonetheless." And something more vulnerable finally stole into his voice then, the merest shadow of his quiet pleas from the night before. "I thought, perhaps, you might consider them an offering." Gavin tore his gaze away from his not-breakfast then, looking up at his partner with enough confusion to drive out all other complicated emotions. "What offering? What the fuck are you talking about, tincan?" And now Connor was the one to look away. "It's just that..." He drew in a deep breath (though Gavin knew it was only him mimicking humans. Fucker didn't actually need to breathe) and continued, "yesterday... Yesterday frightened me. When I saw that gunman aiming at you, I—" He clenched his eyes shut, LED flashing a dangerous red. "In that moment, I preconstructed a multitude of outcomes, many of them where you did not survive. In which that bullet found its mark. And the thought of it, Gavin!" he wails. "I couldn't—! The thought was unbearable! And so I calculated the best result. And I determined my course of action. And you lived. You lived. And I thought that would be the end of it. But..." Finally, Connor looked up, his eyes meeting Gavin's head-on once more. "It was like a glitch. The preconstruction, it— It kept resurfacing again and again and again, every time you were out of my sight. And I... I disliked the feeling immensely. I think perhaps I hated it, even. And so I did my best to linger. I didn't want to leave you. Even though I knew you were safe, I still... It was so irrational but I still wanted to verify that you were okay. I still do." Before them the pancakes were growing cold, but neither paid them any mind. Connor looked away again, eyes shut. "I thought that, perhaps you had figured this much out last night. Which is why you asked me to stay. Because we are friends now and that's what friends do. But I worried that I may have... forced the issue... in my desperation. And I-I... I wanted to do something for you in return for your generosity." Looking down at the cooling

breakfast, Connor's face fell further. "I know it's not much but I thought at least—" Gavin had heard enough. "Okay, okay, okay, hold the fuck up, dumbass!" He stood, breakfast forgotten, and approached the shocked android with a fierce determination. Jabbing a finger directly into Connor's chest, he stated as sternly as he could, "You don't owe me a goddamn thing! For fuck's sake, Connor! You fuckin saved my goddamn life yesterday! You took a fuckin bullet for me! And even after that, you still fuckin stayed with me and made sure I got home safe!" A growl rumbled through his chest as Gavin poked Connor again. "I was having a fuckin nightmare about you dying! When you woke me up in the precinct! Did you know that?!" Connor shook his head but Gavin only poked him a third time, this time with much less force. He left his hand there, palm splayed across where his heart would be were he human. "That shit kept replaying for me, too. Over and over again. So I get it. I get wanting to 'verify.' I was doing the same thing. That's why I asked you to stay. Because I fuckin—! I wanted you here, okay?! Because the idea that you were hurt or injured or fuckin dead had me panicking!" He brought his other arm up now, slinging it around Connor's broad shoulders in a half-embrace, and leaned in, burying his face in the android's neck. "That shit's unbearable to me, too, tincan. Thinking of this fuckin trash heap of a world without you in it is—" He sucked in a breath. "Can't stand the thought." They stood there for what felt like an eternity (though it was probably only a few seconds) before slowly—tentatively—Connor brought his own arms up to squeeze around Gavin. He held him with a brittle tenderness, his touch light and careful as if he was afraid Gavin might break. And fuck, maybe he would. Maybe Connor could shatter him into a hundred-thousand little pieces. But shit, he'd take it. Because Gavin would never have been in this situation in the first place if Connor hadn't broken right through his walls first, scattering him and leaving him adrift in a strange, new world. And when he’d managed to build himself back up, it was into something—someone—stronger. Someone who could look at the world and see progress instead of oppression, opportunity instead of limitations, people instead of just machines. Connor had shattered his body once before down in the archives. He'd shattered his mind too over these last few months. It’d only make sense for him to shatter his heart as well. But he didn't. He wouldn't. And as Connor held him like a thing to be cherished, Gavin felt again that perhaps he'd been right last night. Perhaps this was a partner he could trust. A partner who could trust him, too. And perhaps he would— "Stay."

_____________

Bonus:

Connor: "Okay, but only if you eat your pancakes. I didn't download an entire cooking catalogue for you to let them go to waste, Gavin." Gavin: "Fuckin bite me, we're having a moment here." Connor: "Is your stomach rumbling part of that moment?" Gavin: "God fucking dammit, I fuckin hate you." Connor: ^_^ "False!" Gavin: "Fuck!"

And they lived happily ever after. ♥

[curlynerd]

Just Say It

Happy gift posting day for the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! I had two assignees, so I'm posting two fics today! My 2nd gift recipient is @deanwinchesteradjacent! She requested canon-adjacent Destiel with fluff, action, and a happy ending. I hope you like it! <3

Word Count: 7.5K Rating: T Summary: A string of violent deaths at an otherwise charming B&B was all the excuse Dean needed to drag Cas down to Florida for some fun in the sun. Things had been awkward since Cas came back from the Empty and they could finally be together, but Dean was sure that a romantic getaway was the perfect thing to help Cas get out of the training wheels stage of Angel's-First-Romance and start acting like a real couple. Just as soon as they took care of a vengeful spirit. What could possibly go wrong? Notes: Post canon, fix-it fic, oneshot, love confessions, Dean is bad at feelings, case fic, beach fic.

Also read it on AO3!

“Alright, I’m heading out.”

“Did you pack deodorant?”

“Dean…”

“Toothpaste? Mouthwash?”

“...”

“Those fancy hair products? Cuz there’s just. So. Many--”

“Dean! I’ve lived my whole life on the road. I know how to pack a damn dufflebag!”

Dean smirked, unperturbed by Sam’s whining. “Yeah but Eileen is a classy lady. She’s not gonna put up with your usual road stank.”

Sam sighed in annoyance as he readjusted the bag on his shoulder. “I’m not the one who wears his underwear three days in a row, jerk.”

“Better leave that attitude at home, bitch,” Dean said cheerfully. “It’s your anniversary, after all.”

Sam’s mouth twitched into a shy grin despite his best efforts. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be on my best behavior,” he said, letting Dean have one last bit of fun before he left. “You and Cas too. Don’t get into trouble.” He nodded in farewell before he climbed the stairs to the bunker door.

“Oh, and Sammy?”

Sam paused at the top of the stairs and turned around. Almost like he could sense what was coming, his eyebrow twitched in irritation. Dean hucked a box up to the landing, and Sam fumbled to catch it. Dean flashed a shit-eating grin as Sam read the Trojan label and fixed him with a scowl. “Make sure you wrap it before you tap it, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he walked out the door.

Dean laughed to himself as he turned back to his laptop, scrolling through news articles looking for a hunt. He was still at it an hour later when Cas came shuffling into the room still in his pajamas, two cups of coffee in hand.

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” Dean crooned cheerfully. Cas’ hair was in wild disarray, and between that and his worn, brown sweatshirt and loose pajama bottoms, he looked more like a bear stumbling out of hibernation than a guy just waking up. “Sam already left.”

Cas set a mug down in front of Dean before slumping down into the chair beside him. “I hope he and Eileen have fun this week,” he mumbled as he hunched over his coffee.

Dean smiled at how adorable Cas looked, all grumpy and sleep-ruffled. He was still an angel...somewhat. He had Grace, if only a little. So close to mortality, Cas often needed mundane human things like sleep and food. He wasn’t particularly thrilled about it. In fact, he was so irritated about the whole thing that Dean hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to invite him to sleep in his room, instead of alone. Dean chewed on his lower lip. Maybe after this case, things would change.

“Are you looking up a case?” Cas asked, tilting toward Dean’s screen.

“Uh...yeah.” With forced casualness, Dean turned the laptop so Cas could read a headline from last year: “Gruesome Death at Bed and Breakfast Leaves Locals Worried.” “Over the past forty years, there’ve been six deaths at this B&B. All either heart attacks or a brain hemorrhage. All without a scratch on ‘em. Always a couple. Always on the same night: this Friday. That sure screams ‘ghost’ to me.”

“Key West?” Cas asked as he scanned the article. “Florida? That’s quite a drive.”

Dean shrugged. His fingers tapped against the tabletop. “It is, but hell, why not? Sam gets the week off with Eileen, why can’t we have a little vacation too?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. Suspicious. He was suspicious. Was a little time off really so bad? “You haven’t taken a vacation the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean struggled to come up with a good excuse. “That was, ya know. Before.”

“Before,” Cas repeated stiffly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Before everything.” He gestured around his head. Before Cas told him he loved him and immediately died. Before Dean rescued him from The Empty. Before they wound up in this awkward, stilted Angel’s-First-Romance training wheels relationship Dean found them in.

That seemed to placate Cas. He nodded and took another sip of coffee. “The beach would be nice…”

Dean broke into a grin. “Better than nice! Toes in the sand, drinks with little umbrellas… That’s better than paradise.” He gave Cas’ shoulder a friendly pat. Then--because he could, couldn’t he?--Dean let his hand run along the broad expanse of Cas’ shoulder and gently cup the back of his neck.

This was okay, right? He’d held back on any sort of real PDA because of how uncomfortable Cas would act. And that was okay. He understood. Angels and intimacy...Well, angels just worked differently than humans. And it was all new to Cas! It took him over a decade to say he loved Dean. It would probably take awhile before he was ready to hold hands.

But this wasn’t very much, right? Just a light hand on the back of his neck. This was about as innocent as things got!

Except Cas went stiff under Dean, and Dean took the hint and pulled his hand away as he bit back a sigh. So much for that.

His eyes trailed back to his laptop. Hopefully this getaway would change things, help Cas loosen up and finally see that they could act even a little like a couple now. A romantic beach, warm sunshine, half-naked romps in the water, a cozy and only slightly haunted bed and breakfast…

What could go wrong?

----

Three days and one slightly terrifying highway over the ocean later, Dean and Cas pulled into a parking space for a charming bed and breakfast painted in a lovely pale--

“Lavender?” Dean balked at the decidedly dainty color of the siding. “I know they like their pastels here, but geez…”

“It’s just a paint color,” Cas said as he crossed around to the trunk and started unloading their bags. The duffle full of salt, shotguns, and various iron weapons clanked ominously. He shouldered it carefully so it wouldn’t make so much noise.

“This whole street is like friggin’ Candy Land.” Dean eyeballed the canary yellow house across the street suspiciously as they made their way to the front door.

The inside was clearly the result of a scandalous love affair between a Jimmy Buffet concert and a Hallmark store--All tacky tropical themed furniture and a dizzying array of porcelain figurines.

Dean grinned from ear to ear and elbowed Cas. At Cas’ inquisitive eyebrow, Dean nodded his head to a shelf full of long-haired, sad-eyed blonde angels. Cas rolled his eyes while Dean laughed to himself.

“Hello! Can I help you?” An older woman sat behind a small reception desk, smiling warmly at them in the glow of her ancient computer.

Dean put on his best people-pleasing smile. “Yes you can. Hi, I’m Dean, and this is my, uh…” Dean glanced over to Cas and his eyes crinkled in delight. “Cas. This is my boyfriend, Cas.” Just the word caused a giddy bubble of effervescence to float inside Dean’s chest. After all this time, they were really here. This was real.

Cas offered the receptionist a small, tight smile before turning his studious gaze to the figurines on the wall shelves. The woman furrowed her brow, so Dean charged forward with the conversation before Cas’ awkwardness put her off. If they were going to pry into the case here, they needed her to be friendly with them. “I booked a reservation for this weekend. It--Are you guys still open? It’s kinda quiet in here.” Dean glanced around the empty living space. There weren’t any other cars parked outside either.

The woman waved off his concerns. “Oh yes, it’s just the off season right now. Some weekends are like that.” She spoke a little too quickly as she clicked through her computer. Dean suspected all the news articles about bloody deaths had something to do with it. “Not hard to find your reservation. You’re our only guests tonight.” She grabbed two keys off a hook and held them out for Dean. “You’ll be in room 4, down at the end of the hallway upstairs. It’s the largest one. If you need extra towels or anything, let me know. I’m Susan.”

Sensing they were about to be dismissed, Dean swerved into a distraction. “You know, we’ve been on the road for ages. Do you have any coffee or anything like that? A little wakeup before we hit the beach?”

Susan pushed back from the desk. “Oh of course! I was about to get some for myself, actually. I’ll be right back.”

“Keep an eye out for anything suspicious, Cas,” Dean muttered as Susan disappeared down a hallway. “Anything out of place or really old. You know, haunted stuff.” Cas nodded, and Dean covertly pulled his EMF reader out of his jacket pocket and flicked it on. It was silent. They both made a pass of the room, pretending to look around.

“Here we are!” Susan said brightly, expertly holding three coffee mugs in her hands. Dean jumped a little and hastily put his device away before turning around. “I hope cream and sugar is okay.”

“Any caffeine is fine,” he assured her as he and Cas took their mugs. “So Susan, what is there to do around here? You know, other than what Yelp says. The insider’s scoop.” Dean winked as he took a sip of his coffee.

Susan smiled. “Well, if nightlife is your thing, there are some great spots within walking distance.”

Dean chuckled. “C’mon, Susan. Does this guy look like much of a dancer?” He grinned fondly at Cas as he draped his arm over his shoulders. It was ridiculous how much his stomach fluttered from the small action, but dammit, after all they’d been through to get here, Dean had earned a few butterflies. He squeezed Cas’ shoulder even though Cas didn’t really react. Dean was definitely going to have to clarify that the personal space rule didn’t apply anymore.

“Well, the restaurant down the street also does an excellent brunch,” Susan offered instead.

“Now that’s more our speed.” Maybe if the hunt went well they could actually stay the night, instead of getting the hell out of Dodge before the cops chased them down. Keep their salt and burn quiet and enjoy a nice night in. Dean tried not to get his hopes up for sharing a bed with Cas.

And he did mean sharing a bed. Things were moving so slowly between him and Cas he’d be thrilled just to spoon, nevermind anything else. Dean bit back a sigh as he swept over all of the knick-knacks and decorations, hoping for some sort of clue as to the identity of their ghost. “I’ve gotta say, I love the decor. Is all of this your collection?” Maybe a haunted object? Or a cursed one?

“Most of it.” A faint twinge of wistfulness colored Susan’s words as she looked over the porcelain figurines. “My Marcy liked to collect the angels, but that was years and years ago.”

On a high shelf was a large urn next to an oil painting of a young woman that immediately pinged Dean’s hunter’s instincts. “That’s a lovely painting over there,” he said, catching Cas’ eye meaningfully. Cas turned around to look too.

Susan’s face melted into a quiet, sad smile. “Yes, that’s my Marcy right there. A self-portrait. She was such a talented artist.”

Cas tilted his head. “She was your...wife?” he guessed.

Susan’s face crumpled. “No. No we were never…” She took a deep breath and continued in a steadier tone. “She was my business partner, but I loved her. Very much. And I knew she loved me too. So I suppose you could say we were almost together. Should have been together.” Her lower lip trembled.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what stopped you?” Dean felt bad for pressing her for information that was clearly upsetting, but people’s lives were at stake. Possibly Susan’s own.

Susan curled her hands around her mug, staring into the steaming coffee with a far off look in her eyes. “I was afraid. Of my own feelings. Of opening myself to getting hurt. So I...When Marcy needed me to be honest about how I felt I...I let her down. She got mad...We fought...She ran off. There was an accident, and...Well...” Susan took another deep breath. Her eyes were glassy with tears and heavy with regret. “Today is the anniversary of the day she died.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Dean said, injecting even more sincerity into his words even though he expected as much. Marcy was the best lead so far. Was she attacking people on the anniversary of her death? She was obviously cremated, but perhaps there was something keeping her tied here?

“Not your fault,” she said with the heaviness of one who had heard those words hundreds of times. She shook her head. “You’re not the reason she--” Susan cut herself off and swallowed down her tears. Despite her best efforts, a single tear trailed down her cheek.

“It sounds like you loved her very much,” Cas said, his voice infused with genuine sympathy.

“She was my world. I loved her more than she’ll ever know...” Again Susan fell silent, this time lost in thought.

Then, with a deep, resettling breath, she wiped at her eyes with the edge of her finger and forced a cheerful expression. “But enough of that. You’re my guests. You don’t need to hear all of that! Do you need anything while you get settled in? More towels? Recommendations for restaurants?”

Dean shook his head, “Appreciate it ma’am, but we’ll probably just grab whatever’s convenient around here.”

“Well, would you like to eat here? Usually I don’t serve dinner for guests, but since it’s only the two of you, I can cook up something if you’d like. I honestly wouldn’t mind the company.”

Sensing another opportunity to interview Susan, Dean smiled his very best ‘comforting the bereaved’ smile. “We’d like that very much, Susan. Thank you for offering.” Then, carefully timed almost like an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and what’s the wifi password?”

Upstairs their room was somewhat small but airy. The walls were a crisp, breezy blue, the linens bright white. There was even a gauzy white canopy draped around the four-poster bed. Dean grinned. One bed. Surely that was cause for some optimism about tonight.

“I dunno about you, but I’m gonna sleep like a log tonight,” he said with the most casual tone he could muster as he grabbed the weapons bag off Cas’ shoulder and deposited it on the duvet. “What about you? Think you’ll need a couple z’s?” ‘Please say yes.’

Cas eyed the bed. Something strange flickered across his face. Something heavy, even sad. Dean immediately felt like a jackass for reminding Cas about his weak Grace. “I mean, who knows how you’ll feel tonight,” Dean added hastily. He started digging through his bag for his laptop. “Get some sea air in your lungs, and you might wake right up.”

Cas pursed his lips. “I suppose so,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. He turned away from Dean and started roaming the room, looking over the artwork on the walls and the little beachy decorations on the furniture. He came to a stop.

“This looks like Susan and Marcy,” he said, letting his fingers trail along the frame of a painting over the dresser.

“Yeah?” Dean looked up from his booting laptop. It was an oil painting like the one downstairs, with a young couple in bright dresses making each other laugh in front of a backdrop of a stormy gray ocean. One was undeniably a much younger Susan. Marcy looked the same as she did in the painting downstairs.

Cas frowned a little and pulled his hand back from the frame. He glanced around the ceiling and only relaxed when he saw an air-conditioning vent gently humming nearby. Dean shrugged it off and turned back to his laptop. He set right to work searching through the local newspaper archives and breaking into the coroner’s office servers. Finding their ghost was only a matter of time.

“Got it. Marcy Daniels. Died forty-three years ago tonight.” Dean flipped his laptop around so Cas could read the news article. “Hit by a car. Right outside this house. Died before she even got to the hospital.”

Cas squinted at the screen. The photo attached to the article looked just like the woman in the paintings. “And you think she’s the ghost?”

Dean shrugged. “Seems as good a guess as any. Violent death. Susan said they were fighting right before. Probably something happened between them that left Marcy pissed off enough to stay in the veil.”

Cas nodded. “We should ask her about it.”

“Nah, she’s not gonna let us grill her about her dead partner like that. We’ll strike up a conversation at dinner. That should give us enough time to figure out what’s keeping Marcy here before she attacks tonight.”

Cas deferred to Dean’s hunting experience. “Well then what should we do until then?”

Dean grinned from ear to ear. “What do you think we should do? To the beach!”

---

Dean shut the trunk of the Impala and straightened his back, lifting his face to the breeze blowing in from the sea. He breathed in deeply. “God, smell that salt air…” he said with a wistful smile. When he turned to Cas, the angel was looking at him with fondness, warmth making his blue eyes brighter. Dean’s smile grew, and he lifted up his sunglasses to flash Cas a playful wink. Cas quickly ducked his head and started walking.

Dean bit back a groan as he followed behind him with their beach bag. What was he doing wrong? He was trying to be gentle, to give Cas enough space to adjust to the idea that they were together now on his own. After all of the crap they’d been through together, after so many things keeping them apart, he understood why Cas was struggling. Hell, he’d been squashing down his feelings for so long, Cas probably didn’t know how to let himself have this happiness.

At least, that was what Dean kept telling himself. Deep down, though, he was afraid that Cas’ feelings were changing.

“There’s a good spot,” Dean said, jogging up behind Cas and forcing down his depressing thoughts before they could meet up with his self-loathing and really cause problems. He grabbed Cas’ arm and tugged him toward an unoccupied part of the sand. The weather was a little too temperamental this time of year to attract huge crowds, but there were still plenty of people out enjoying the sunshine.

Cas let himself be led, his flip-flops flapping awkwardly over the sand. Dean laughed a little, even though his footing wasn’t much better. When they’d walked far enough away from the boardwalk, Dean unceremoniously dropped their bag and dug out a large blanket to lay out.

“Perfect,” he declared as he tipped up his sunglasses to survey his work. He plopped down on the blanket and shucked off his shirt. A quick glance up let him catch the way Cas’ eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his expression smoothed over. Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Cas, but he didn’t see because he turned around like a friggin’ Victorian lady in order to pull off his own shirt before he sat down in front of Dean, facing the ocean. Dean’s gaze swept down the broad, muscular expanse of Cas’ back, and he could barely contain the heat in his eyes and in his grin.

Only then did Cas glance over his shoulder and catch Dean’s eye. Dean bit his lip suggestively, his grin widening, but Cas’ cheeks turned lightly pink and turned his head away. He rubbed at the back of his neck. Nervous, huh? Well that was alright. Dean could lighten the mood.

He held up the bottle of sunscreen. “Alright, let’s spackle your back.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Dean,” Cas said, not turning around. His voice sounded even more gruff than usual, which was certainly saying something.

“Nonsense!” Dean was already squirting a healthy dollop of sunscreen in his palm. “You can get sunburned, same as the rest of us.”

Cas sighed heavily. His shoulders twitched, tense, but he didn’t protest when Dean slapped his hand at the middle of his back.

Dean set to work rubbing the cream into Cas’ warm skin. “See? This is nice. It’s like a mini-massage.” He made sure to move slowly, almost caressing him. His stomach fluttered with the faintest whisper of excitement. This was the closest thing he’d gotten to action in months, after all. And Cas’ back was nice. Broad and firm and far more muscular than Dean would have guessed. His heart did a little tapdance at knowing that he was allowed to freely ogle now.

“I like seeing you out of the trenchcoat,” Dean said, now using both hands to stroke up and down Cas’ skin. Cas tensed again. “I mean, you look good under all those layers,” Dean said hastily, afraid that the reminder of his waning Grace was too painful. “When did you get so beefy?” Dean slid his hands up to Cas’ shoulders and then down his thick arms. He squeezed them playfully as he shifted closer, letting his knees bump against him.

He leaned in close so he could almost whisper, “Wish I could see it somewhere other than the beach.”

Cas’ back became hard as marble. He lowered his head. “That’s enough, Dean,” he said softly. His voice trembled with some barely contained emotion Dean didn’t understand.

Disappointment rose up Dean’s throat like bile. “Seriously? I’m almost done!”

Cas twisted around, his face pulled into a scowl. His cheeks were flushed. “Dean! I’m an angel! I don’t need this!”

Dean pulled back. “What? I can’t even put sunscreen on you now?” he demanded.

Cas didn’t have an answer to that. He only glared, his eyes flickering with something Dean couldn’t quite figure out. Pain? Longing? Regret?

Knowing Dean’s penchant for screwing things up all the time, it was almost certainly the latter.

Cas breathed out a long, frustrated breath and rose to his feet. “I’m...going for a walk,” he said. He folded his arms over his bare chest.

“Cas,” Dean pleaded. What had he done wrong? Why was Cas so mad?

Cas shook his head. “Please, Dean.” With one last glance filled with that strange, heartache-inducing emotion, Cas turned and started walking down the beach alone.

Dean stared after him as he left. “What the hell?” he said under his breath. The sting of rejection quietly throbbed in his chest as he turned his gaze to the ocean. What had he done to piss Cas off? Had he really crossed a boundary, or was something else wrong? Cas had been so weird since he’d been back. Shouldn’t he be happy? Hell, telling Dean he loved him was the happiest Cas had ever been, right? That was part of his deal with The Empty!

Did he regret it? Did he change his mind? Maybe Cas really didn’t want to have Dean. Not for real. Maybe that was why Cas never told him how he felt before. He had to have known Dean loved him long before his deal with The Empty came along. Maybe there was a reason Cas hadn’t said anything about it before.

Maybe Cas knew that Dean would screw things up if they got together. Maybe he was trying to pull away from Dean, make it easier to break things off when it all came crashing down.

Dean stewed in his thoughts, his expression dark as he watched the waves. He lost track of time until a pair of children came racing past him, screaming in delight and startling him out of his thoughts. He pulled at his phone to glance at the time. Cas had been gone over half an hour. Way too long. Dean looked down the beach, almost expecting to see Cas trudging back up the beach back to him, but he didn’t see any sign of him. But Cas couldn’t have left left. Dean had the car keys! Quietly cursing, Dean pulled out his phone and dialed Cas’ number.

...And heard a familiar ringtone coming out of their bag.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean growled as he hung up. He stood up, but he still couldn’t see Cas. Had something happened? What if he’d gone in the water? What if he’d gotten pulled out to sea by a riptide? Despite knowing Cas didn’t even know how to swim, worry dripped ice cold down Dean’s spine, and before he knew it he was walking down the beach along the path Cas had taken.

“Cas!” he called out, but he didn’t see him. Dean started walking faster. He scanned the beach for a familiar dark head of hair and the bright orange swim trunks Dean had picked out for him. “CAS!” He was beginning to fear the worst.

“You lookin’ for someone?” a concerned voice called out. Dean whipped his head around to a small family sitting underneath an umbrella.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, my buddy Cas.” Dean jogged over to them. “You see him walk by? Kinda beefy, kinda dorky. Dark hair, orange trunks, about yea high.” He held his palm flat about eye level.

The woman who spoke nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I saw him walking back toward town, though.” She pointed over her shoulder.

Dean furrowed his brow. Did Cas walk back on his own? Irritation flared in his chest as he forced a cordial smile and thanked the woman before jogging back the way he came. He didn’t see any sign of Cas back at their blanket either.

Dean scowled. Maybe he had walked back. Running off without a word was infuriatingly in-character for him. Dean cursed under his breath as he hastily packed up their things and started stomping up the beach toward the car.

What was even such a big deal? If Cas supposedly loved him so much, was rubbing his back that bad? Dean was trying to give him space, he really was, but the way Cas was acting, it was like he didn’t even like Dean, nevermind love him!

The thought clenched tight around Dean’s heart as he drove back to the bed and breakfast. Maybe he didn’t anymore. Maybe Cas was getting sick of him. Twelve years in each other’s lives, it was bound to happen eventually.

Maybe what angels considered love and what humans considered love was just different.

Dark thoughts still swirled in Dean’s head as he returned to the bed and breakfast and marched up the stairs.

“Dude, what the hell?!” Dean charged into their room, anger burning hot as his glare zeroed in on the angel sitting in a chair. “You can’t just go running off like that! You left your phone behind!”

Cas carefully closed the book he was reading. He was fully clothed again. “It’s not a long walk back here. I assumed you’d know where I’d gone.”

“I was worried sick about you! What if you went in the ocean and something happened?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that. You know I can’t swim.”

“You can’t just go stomping off whenever you get mad!”

Cas closed his eyes. “I’m not mad,” he said, though the growl in his voice suggested otherwise.

“Like hell you’re not!” Dean shot back. “So what is it? I can’t touch you now? It’s freakin’ sunscreen, Cas. Is it really that big of a deal?”

Cas’ eyes flew open. “Yes!” he said, deeply pained. “Dean, does it really matter so little to you that you’re okay with just ignoring it?”

Dean was brought up short. “Does what matter?”

“Me!” Cas plastered his hand over his chest. He almost looked like he could cry. “I told you how I felt and you insist on acting like nothing happened!”

Dean blinked. “What? That’s...that’s not true, Cas!”

“Dean! You didn’t say anything! Not once since you brought me back, have you said anything about the fact that I love you! And you may think that by ignoring it and trying to force things back the way they were before that you can lock up that Pandora’s Box again, but you can’t! I can’t. I can’t…”

Dean took a step forward, his expression darkening with confusion. “Cas, what’re you talking about?” He didn’t understand. Why did Cas look so hurt? So heartbroken? Cas loved him. Dean loved Cas. So why wasn’t he happy? What had Dean done wrong? “Cas, I--”

Cold mist curled up from Dean’s mouth.

They both went tense and still as they noticed just how cold the room had gotten. The lamp on the bedside table flickered.

“Shit,” Dean muttered under his breath. His eyes darted to the open dufflebag on their bed with all of their weapons.

He made a move for it, but a figure flickered into being in front of him. She was wearing a torn, bloody sundress. Her long, straw-colored hair was plastered to the half of her gaunt face where it was smashed in, blood staining it crimson. The ghost took a step toward Dean. Thick, dark blood dripped from her head but never reached the floor.

“Marcy,” Dean breathed. Guess she didn’t need to wait for nightfall after all.

“Coward,” the ghost menaced as she took another step closer. Dean carefully backed up. “Can’t even say it. Even when you’re hurting him. Coward!”

Dean’s eyes flickered to Cas, who was edging toward their weapons bag. He tried to make the movement quick, but the ghost noticed. With a vicious growl she flung out her hand and Cas went flying into the far wall.

“Don’t worry,” the ghost said to Cas, and the venom in her voice dropped into twisted sympathy. “I’ll take your pain away soon.”

Cas struggled to his feet as the ghost rounded on Dean again. Her outstretched hand aimed directly at Dean’s head, fingers curled into a wicked claw. But before she could touch him, Cas made another attempt at the duffle. She shrieked in fury and sent it spinning through the air toward the window. A single iron poker tumbled out of the open zipper as it flipped over and smashed against the glass, shattering it. The bag tumbled to the ground below.

Cas lurched for the poker. “Dean!” he called as he tossed it through the air, directly through the ghost. She howled and dissipated into smoke while Dean barely managed to close his fingers around the weapon. Cas and Dean stood back to back as they circled the room, Dean holding the iron poker at the ready.

“Salt,” Dean barked. “We need salt!” Except all of theirs was now two stories below. Dean silently cursed. “The kitchen! Go! I’m right behind you!”

Cas nodded and made for the door. The lights were flickering again. He and Dean narrowly made it into the hallway when their bedroom door slammed shut behind them. They raced for the stairs and nearly collided with Susan.

“Cas, Dean, what’s going on?” Her eyes were panicked, taking in the cut on Cas’ temple and the iron poker in Dean’s grip. Mist followed her words out of her mouth.

“Look out!” Dean reached for Susan, but he was flung backward by an invisible force. Marcy flickered into existence over him again. “Salt, Susan! We need salt!” he cried out before the ghost clamped its cold hand around his throat. Dean scrambled from his poker, but it had fallen just out of reach. His other hand grappled with Marcy’s, trying to pull it away.

He couldn’t see with the ghost pinning him down, but he was pretty sure he heard Susan’s footsteps racing away. Good. Even if she didn’t come back, at least she was somewhere safer. Black dots started to swim in Dean’s vision.

“Hey! Marcy!” A ceramic angel went flying through the air and smashed into a framed photo on the wall next to them, shattering the glass. Marcy snarled and whipped her head around. Her grip on Dean’s neck loosened a little, and Dean sucked in as many painful gasps as he could get.

“This is what you’re about, huh?” Cas goaded. He stood next to an accent table full of figurines, another ceramic angel in his hand, fat load of good that would do against a ghost. “Exacting revenge against shitty lovers?” Dean stretched his arm until his muscles strained. He could barely feel the length of the iron rod brush against his fingertips. If Cas could keep stalling for just a little longer... “I think anger has clouded your judgement.” Cas’ lips twisted into a bitter smirk. “You have no reason to attack Dean. Can’t you tell? He doesn’t love me.”

The statement caught Dean completely off-guard. His hand stilled as he gaped at Cas. “What?” he rasped around the ghostly hand on his throat. Didn’t love him!?

The ghost growled at Cas. She raised her arm as if to psychically toss him toward the stairway, but right at that moment, Susan barreled up the stairs, a blue canister of salt in her hand.

“I have the salt!” she said, and with panic and desperation in her eyes she blindly flung the open canister at Dean and the ghost. Salt flung in a wide arc and rained down on Marcy, who screamed and disappeared instantly.

Dean rolled onto his side, coughing weakly as he grabbed onto the iron poker and clutched it against his chest. Cas ran to him, only stopping to grab the canister of salt. He hastily drew a circle around them, draining the last of the salt on their protection ring. “Susan, get in the circle!” he commanded as he knelt beside Dean.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean choked out between gasps for air. His head was spinning. Cas’ hand on his shoulder helped a lot, but when Dean asked his question Cas quickly yanked it away. “How could you think that?” he said, genuinely confused.

“What’s going on? Why did that...that thing look like my Marcy?!” Susan nearly flung herself into the circle with them. She clutched at her chest, casting her terrified gaze around the room.

“Her ghost,” Cas said, though he didn’t take his eyes off Dean. His brow furrowed. “Dean, you haven’t--”

“Ghost?!” Susan screeched. “Then what the hell are we doing standing here?!”

“Salt repels ghosts,” Cas replied with way more patience than Dean would have had. “She can’t come into the circle.”

“What’s going on?” Susan’s eyes went huge, her face going pale. “She...She killed those people last year, didn’t she? How do we stop her?”

“Usually burn her remains, if anything is left,” Cas said, “but she was cremated, wasn’t she? So something else is tethering her here. Perhaps a locket? Something she cherishes.”

Susan frowned, panicked eyes darting around in front of her as she mulled it over. “Her painting,” she said with a gasp. “The one in your room. She finished it right before our argument! Right before she ran out into the street and was hit by the car. It was precious to her. She put her everything into it, tried to use it to confess her love for me, and I...I was too much of a coward to say it back. That’s why we fought.”

Cas and Dean’s eyes met, and they both nodded. Dean grunted as he pushed himself to his feet, poker still clutched to his chest. “Susan, stay here. Whatever happens, don’t leave the circle. Cas, I’ll keep her busy. You burn the painting.”

As one unit Cas and Dean left the salt circle.

Immediately the hallway burst into chaos. Doors slammed shut everywhere. The knick-knacks and travel guides on the accent table went flying through the air. The lights flickered until their bulbs burst, leaving only the light of the window at the far end to help them see.

They ran.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean demanded, because a deadly ghost hunt seemed as good a time as any to have this conversation. Some things were too damn important to wait for downtime.

“Because you don’t!” Cas snapped. He threw himself at the shut door of their room, but it was supernaturally sealed. He grunted and tried again. Marcy appeared at his side, a ghostly hand reaching for his chest, a snarl on her lips.

“Cas, of course I love you, you idiot!” Dean swung at Marcy, forcing her to disappear again. Cas slammed himself against the unmoving door. “How could you think I don’t?”

“Dean, I died--” Cas slammed into the door again. His eyes glowed faintly with his weakened Grace. “Telling you how I felt. And you said--” Another crash; the door cracked ominously. “Nothing about it since I’ve been back!”

Marcy flickered into being next to them again. Dean knocked her away with the poker.

“I thought you knew! I thought you didn’t love me and that’s why you never said anything!”

“I told you!” With one final crash, Cas burst through the door and into the room, Dean hot on his heels. They ran for the dresser. “I told you the one thing I wanted, I couldn’t have! That thing was you, Dean!” Cas yanked the painting off the wall and threw it on the ground, shattering its glass and exposing the paper.

Marcy screamed in fury and appeared in front of him. She flung him at the dresser just as Dean dispersed her with a forceful swing. He flipped the poker in his hand, readying himself to strike again while Cas scrambled to his feet, lighter freed from his pocket and held at the ready.

“Because of the Empty!” Dean insisted. Marcy’s form materialized again, and Dean raised his weapon as she approached. “You couldn’t have me because of the deal with the Empty!”

Cas fumbled with the lighter. “I can’t have you because. You. Don’t. Love me!” It finally lit. Cas threw it onto the painting, sending it up in flames.

Marcy howled in agony as her body sparked and burned. She raised her head skyward as if to escape from the rising flames, but in a flash of heat and bright orange light, she was gone, and Cas and Dean were left standing alone in the room.

They stared at each other in the sudden, violent silence. Cas’ face was a mask of frustration and pain.

“Dean, I’ve been back for months. Months. And you have said nothing about how you feel. Do not lie to me now because you feel sorry for me.” With one last heartbroken glare, Cas stomped out of the room, leaving Dean behind to stamp out the flaming remains of the painting.

Once Dean didn’t need to worry about burning the house down, he went looking for Cas. He found him outside, loading up their scattered weapons into the trunk of the Impala.

He looked shattered. His face was crumpled with pain, his eyes dull, deep furrows in his brow. It brought Dean up short. Guilt welled up so intense that Dean almost couldn’t say anything at all. Except, well, that had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

“I thought you knew,” Dean called across the distance between them. Cas stopped and turned to look at him. The bitterness in his eyes made Dean’s stomach churn. “I thought you knew,” he said again. He took a step toward Cas. “For years I thought you knew. But, you know, you’re an angel. I thought you didn’t...I thought you couldn’t…” He trailed off. Cas’ forehead was furrowed in confusion, but he was at least listening, so Dean swallowed down his discomfort and barreled forward. “I thought angels couldn’t fall in love. Except...then you died telling me you did. Telling me that the reason you couldn’t even tell me how you felt was because being happy would trigger your deal and…” He shrugged.

“You thought I was deliberately keeping us apart?”

“Because if you told me you felt the same, then we’d be together and you’d be happy and you’d die.”

The bitterness had faded from Cas’ eyes, replaced with something that Dean was loath to acknowledge looked a little bit like pity mixed with profound frustration. “So when I came back, you thought there wasn’t anything left to talk about?”

Dean scratched the back of his neck and took another step forward. “Yeah well…What else was there to say? You said you, you know, loved me. And I thought you knew that I, you know…” He trailed off.

“Dean.” Dean had never heard Cas sound so pained just saying his name. “You.” Cas scrubbed at his face. His mouth twitched as he struggled to find words for all the ways Dean had screwed up. Was continuing to screw up.

“The hoops that you jump through to avoid talking about your feelings astound me,” Cas finally said. He dropped his hand with a sigh of defeat, and Dean’s heart sank. This was it. The death rattles of a relationship that hadn’t even really started. Dean never had what he truly wanted, and he never would.

Dean ducked his head, unable to look Cas in the eye. “Right. Yeah. That’s me, alright.” He swallowed around the hard lump in his throat. The long drive back to Kansas was going to be awful.

“Say it,” Cas said softly. His words were a command, but when Dean looked up in surprise, his eyes were pleading. “Please,” he breathed, almost like he didn’t deserve to even ask, and something inside Dean cracked.

“I love you, Cas.” One step, two steps, he crossed the distance between them and threw his arms around Cas’ shoulders, clinging to him the way he wished he could have before the Empty took Cas away. “It’s you, Cas. It can only be you. It’s only been you for years. I promise.”

Cas’ next breath stuttered in his lungs. His arms wound tightly around Dean, desperate. “Dean,” he sighed, this time like a prayer.

“I’m right here, buddy.” Dean held him tightly, the way he should have when he first got Cas back from the Empty. The way Dean wanted to all these months when he thought...Well, when he was an idiot. “You can have me, you know. You already have me.”

Cas pulled back enough to look Dean in the eye. His eyes were glassy. Dean’s didn’t exactly feel dry either. ‘I wonder if I can kiss him,’ Dean thought, milliseconds before Cas did just that.

Cas’ lips were warm against his own, and Dean gasped softly as his hand wound through Cas’ thick hair to cradle the back of his head. His kiss was eager, if not clumsy, and Dean smiled a little as he let Cas take the lead anyway. When they finally pulled apart, Cas’ normally pale lips were flushed pink, and Dean’s soft smile morphed into a huge, affectionate grin.

“Hey,” Dean said, his voice surprisingly husky after a largely innocent kiss.

Cas smiled back. “Hello, Dean,” he said, and Dean couldn’t help it. He laughed. God, how he loved this angel.

“So whadya say, Cas?” Dean said when his laughter quieted. “Ready to get the hell outta Dodge?”

Cas’ hands slid down Dean’s back until they were resting on his hips. “Actually…” His gaze turned wistfully in the direction of the distant beach. “I had a different idea.”

---

“You sure this is okay, Cas?”

“Dean…”

“Cuz I mean, I want to respect your boundaries.”

“Dean!”

“And I totally understand if I’m crossing a line here.”

Cas twisted around and gave Dean and his closed bottle of sunscreen a baleful look. Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “If I get sunburned, you can get your own room tonight.”

“You’re probably not even going to sleep anyway,” Dean shot back.

“I’ll sleep just to spite you.” Cas scowled, but Dean could see the corners of his lips twitching playfully. With a rush of affection, Dean shifted so that Cas’ bare back was pressed against his chest and Dean could rest his chin on Cas’ shoulder. Cas went stiff against his body, but it only lasted a second before he practically melted into Dean’s hold. Dean wrapped his arms around him as he watched the waves.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Dean said with a sigh.

“Yes,” Cas breathed, but he wasn’t looking at the sea.

Heat rushed to Dean’s cheeks. He cleared his throat and kept his gaze solidly on the ocean. “You’re such a sap,” he grumbled weakly.

“You’ll get used to it.” Dean could see Cas’ smirk in the corner of his eye. Dean tightened his embrace.

“I dunno if I ever will,” he said quietly, a soft smile on his lips as he finally got to hold his angel.

[sweetkingdomstarlight-blog]

“Maybe if I punish you it’ll help you remember who you belong to next time.” with Bucky hunting down reader after she tries to run away after she breaks up with him

Pairings - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count - 1706

Warnings - kidnap, forced drug use, oral (f receiving)

A/N - thanks to the wonderful @buckyownsmylife for beta reading this and just being an all round sweetheart. Thanks also to @dreamslikeaheartbeat for the prompt, if you don’t already go follow her she’s so talented. If you are under 18 then please shoo

You feel the crunch of the leaves under your feet as you run, the twigs ripping through your soft skin as you push forward. It's quiet, too quiet.

Working at the tower was everything you’d ever wanted, you’d worked so hard to get where you were and developing tech with Shuri and Peter was your actual dream. You started out small, working on comms, it didn’t take long for you to advance and under Shuri’s watchful eyes you amended the arm of a certain super soldier. He came to the lab once a week so you could test new ideas and he was always so helpful, even bringing you coffee and occasionally books you two had discussed.

It had been three months since you first worked with him and for two of those he wanted to work with only you. Shuri agreed it would be good for you to have a little freedom and handed over his files. Bucky was funny, sweet and charming, not the impression you were given of him from Peter, who was still a little scared of him after the airport incident.

One afternoon he arrived and looked a little nervous, producing a bunch of flowers from behind his back you looked at him curiously. “Hey, come out with me tonight, Sam told me about this place a few blocks from here. You’re always cooped up in here, let me thank you for making my arm even better.” Your cheeks warmed up at the thought of spending time with him outside of the tower but he caught it. “Is that little smile you’re trying to hide a yes?” He pressed, trying to make eye contact with you.

You nodded and looked at him. “That would be nice, thanks Bucky.” He relaxed and handed you the bouquet. “I’ll pick you up at 7.” He turned and walked out, you watched as he went round the corner before running to beg for the rest of the day off.

You hear the knock at your door at exactly 7oclock and chuckle to yourself at how punctual he was. Opening the door and stepping aside, you let him in and watch as he immediately surveys your apartment for exits. “I'll be a few minutes just make yourself at home,” you say before quickly moving to your bedroom to finish getting ready. You hear him in your front room, shuffling around and when you come back he’s looking through your bookcase.

“Wow doll, you look stunning, give me a little twirl.” Biting your lip at the compliment, you turn on the spot and try to calm your heart as he whistles at you. “Don’t know how I got so lucky to meet you.” You quickly take a drink of the wine you left on the side finishing the glass when you start to feel a little dizzy, stumbling into his arms. “I’ve got you, looks like you had a little too much. Let me help you.” The room suddenly goes black.

Waking up, you don’t know how long it’s been but you’re in an unfamiliar room, your head is pounding and you’re laying down on a bed. You try to sit up and realise your arms are secured to the posts. “Hey, you’re finally awake, don’t mind the rope, I had to tie you up to keep you safe.” You look around to see where the voice is coming from but you don’t see him anywhere.

“Bucky?” you manage to croak out, your dry throat making it near impossible to speak. He rushes over to you and strokes your cheek to soothe you, unaware that it has the opposite effect. “Bucky can you undo me please, I need to use the bathroom.” He nods and pulls the rope off, walking you to the bathroom but stopping you from closing the door. Looking up at him confused he glares at you, daring you to challenge him.

Washing your face, you keep watch from the corner of your eye. “I know you're watching me, doll.” Stalking over, he takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your hair. “You looked so good tonight doll, I didn't want to share you with the rest of the world.” Looking at you in the mirror. “You want that too, don’t you? I see the way you look at me, at this arm.” He wraps his hand around your throat gently but leaves you no room to move.

You watch his face as it warps from the Bucky you know to something else entirely. “Bucky, what are you doing?” He grips tighter and leans in, growling in your ear. “No questions, do as you’re told and we can be very happy.” Holding your breath, a tear rolls down your cheek, he smirks and swipes it away, licking it off his thumb. “Mmm so sweet doll, we are going to have so much fun.” With that, he leaves and closes the door behind him.

You take a deep breath, almost hyperventilating from the fear coursing through your body. Looking around for something to use as a weapon, you notice he's cleared the room, the window is bolted shut. You are trapped.

You leave the small room and hear him calling you from somewhere in the house. Following his voice you find him making pancakes in the kitchen. You can’t see any knives or much of anything really to help you, surveying the room around you, it quickly becomes clear that you’re in some sort of cabin.

Outside the windows all you can see is trees, the sun is up too, just how long were you unconscious? “I’m making breakfast, you must be starving. There’s some pain relief on the counter, I'm sure you’ve got a sore head.” You nod and pick up the pack, inspecting it for any tampering. “Come on, doll! We’ve already established that if I want to drug you, I can do that very easily.”

Your heart pounds and he chuckles to himself. “Calm down, I can hear you from over here.” You take the pills with a glass of orange and sit down at the table while he serves you up a plate. “Eat up, you’re going to need your energy”.

The next week goes by in a blur of ‘domestic bliss’. You’re playing along, observing his daily pattern and making a plan. He doesn’t sleep at night, preferring to watch you rest, he does have a nap everyday but it usually only lasts around 30 mins. Each day you work on a different window, slowly pulling out the nails without leaving any marks before pushing them back in so he doesn’t suspect anything.

Getting a call from Steve later that week, he goes to the end of the garden so you don’t hear him, taking your chance you run. Rushing through the trees, you can’t see anything that looks like freedom so you push forward.

You haven’t had anything that even closely resembles shoes the whole time you’ve been held captive and each step you take shoots more and more pain through your soles. Seeing a lake up ahead, you charge towards it, leaping over a tree trunk when you’re caught mid jump. “Oh hey, doll, leaving so soon? We haven’t even begun to have any fun yet. Did you think I wouldn’t notice all the windows and doors had been tampered with?” Throwing you over his shoulder and he began marching back to the cabin.

You struggle as he throws you on the bed, ripping your clothes off and tying you up. “Where did you think you were going? I’ve told you already, you belong to me now.” He cups one of your breasts before painfully pinching and stretching your nipple. “I could make this feel very good for you, all you have to do is ask”. You shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut, gasping out when he slaps your face. “Look at me you, little bitch.” Looking up at him, your eyes get blurry from the unshed tears that form.

“Just be a good girl for me and we won’t have any trouble.” You nod at him, terrified, and try to move away when he moves lower down your body, his nose nudging around your curls before spreading you open and licking your juices. “Mmm... you taste so good doll, I know you want this, you just have to relax.” Your back arches off the bed as he sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking at it with his tongue. Your orgasm builds higher and higher, your body feels as though it's on fire but he stops and you moan out in frustration. He smirks up at you, pushing one of his vibranium fingers into you and curling it just right. “Say the words and I'll make you feel good,” echoing his words from earlier.

You shake your head again and screw your eyes shut, trying to regulate your breathing and calm yourself down when you feel his mouth on you again. “No please, I can’t,” you practically scream out at him as he expertly takes you apart again, taking you to the brink but not letting you fall over.

“Say it, say you’re mine and I'll let you cum doll, it's simple.” You sob fat heavy tears, your whole body feeling sensitive. Shaking his head at you, he dives back in, you clench your fists together, trying to command your body to let you finish before he stops but he already knows you too well and he stops once again.

“Please Bucky, I’m yours I swear I’m all yours.” He smirks and slowly rubs a finger on your clit, your body responding to the touch, your back arches and your toes curl. You're close, so fucking close it almost hurts but he pulls back and slaps your pussy hard.

“Maybe if I punish you it’ll help you remember who you belong to next time.” He spits in your face before turning his head and welcoming Steve. “This is the girl I told you about, she’s ready,” he says with a sense of pride in his voice. You turn your head and sob when you see Steve beginning to undress and walk towards you grinning.

[angelvyxen]

“𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲.”

In which you’re Melo’s best friend & ex he’s not over

“What do you think of this?” You asked Melo as you turned around. He was laying back on your bed, scrolling through his phone. He moved his phone to the side and peeked over at you, “It’s straight.”

“It’s straight?”

“Yea, you look good.” He nodded.

You huffed and made your way towards your closet to rework your fit for the night again.

“C’mon bruh, I said you look straight! Why you changing again?”

“Because just looking ‘straight’ isn’t good enough. I need to look... I need to look..” you trailed off, looking for a word that encompasses just how much of a bad bitch you wanted to be tonight. "I need to look like City Girl meets Megan the Stallion."

"My nigga, what?"

"Just know I need to look good, Melo. Okay? Reef is going to be there tonight and I need to make sure I have every little bit of his attention."

Melo rolled his eyes from across the room when you mentioned Shareef.

"Man, fuck that nigga." You heard him grumble which made you laugh, asking,

"What do you have against Shareef?"

"I don't have anything against dude."

"Yes, you do. You've been on him since I mentioned I like him." You stepped out of your closet and leaned against the door frame to look him in the eyes.

"He's a bitch." He shrugged before looking back at his phone.

"What do you mean?"

"What I said. He's a bitch and you don't need to be associating with someone like that."

You rolled your eyes, "Negro, please," and stepped back into the closet. “You gotta chill on him.”

“How you Shaq’s son and still ain’t made it to the league yet?”

“He had health issues Melo, you know that. Please don’t go that low just because you don’t like him for no good reason.”

Melo sucked his teeth and leaned back on your bed, focusing back on his phone. “I got numerous good reasons.” He grumbled to himself.

“What was that?” You asked, poking your head out of the closet again.

“Nothing man! Finish getting ready, we late cause of you.”

“Uh huh, whatever.”

You settled for something basic, but cute. A pair of black jeans, your favorite color way of the Jordan 1s Melo had gotten you for Christmas last year and a matching graphic tee with some jewelry to bump up the outfit.

“You look good.” Melo remarked, his eyes following you as he opened the passenger door of his jet black Rolls-Royce Cullinan for you. You were happy you got to spend today with him. Both of your schedules never seemed to align anymore since the season started for him and you started a new job.

“Thank you best friend.” You grinned as you slid into the passenger seat of his car. He shut the door and walked around the car, opening his door and sliding into his own seat.

You held out your hand and he placed his phone in it before starting the car. As he was backing out of the driveway you unlocked his phone and went to his Apple Music. You scrolled through his playlists until you came to your favorite one, ‘Vibes 🥵🤞🏼💕’. You plugged in the aux cord before hitting shuffle and set his phone down. ‘Get you’ by Daniel Caesar started to play a few moments later. Melo raised his brows before a wide smile spread across his face and he said loudly, “Oh say less! Whatchu tryna do?”

“Boy, what are you talking about?” You giggled as you looked at the goofy expression on his face.

“You playing my grown folks music playlist, you tryna start something?” He looked over at you.

“Ew,” you scrunched up your face.

“Man don’t act like you don’t want this body.”

“Boy bye. I would never.”

“Oh word, so you wouldn’t kiss me right now?” He puckered his lips at you.

You shook your head and looked in the other direction, “Nope.”

“Girl stop playing and give me them lips.” He gently gripped your chin, forcing your head to turn and started to lean in close. This wouldn’t be the first time you kissed Melo. The nature of you two’s friendship was different than most. The two of you used to date but decided after a couple months that you’d be better as friends. Since you were already comfortable with one another, doing boyfriend-girlfriend things weren’t awkward. Long hugs, cuddling, and occasional kissing weren’t anything to you when it came to him.

Before both of your lips touched the car jerked to the side which made you realize he was still driving.

“Focus on the road!” You said sharply as the car jerked back to the opposite side, making it centered in the road again. Melo was laughing the entire time and you hit him in his chest, “That wasn’t fucking funny. I’m too young to die.”

“Relax, you still alive. Aren’t you? Always overreacting.”

You rolled your eyes and faced front, crossing your arms over one another.

“Aye,” he reached over and gently flicked your cheek, “Fix your face. The shit isn’t that serious for you to be catching an attitude over.”

You pushed his hand away, keeping your eyes in front of you.

“Cmon man, don’t start this. We were just having a good time.”

You kept quiet and you heard him sigh loudly. A second later you felt a hand on your thigh, rubbing up and down.

“You wanna get some food later?” He asked, knowing that that phrase alone would get your attitude in check.

“What kind?”

“Del Taco?”

You unfolded you arms and Melo laughed, “You so fucking fat.”

“Aht, don’t fuck up nigga. I’ll catch my attitude all over again.”

He nodded, “Heard you. I take it back.”

“As you should.” You said as you picked up your phone to play some games to pass the time. You settled on temple run, tapping your nails against the screen as you waiting for the game to load.

You squealed excitedly when you saw a text from Shareef pop up at the top of your screen. Melo glanced over at you confused as you typed up a response.

“Who you talking to?” He asked, trying to see what was happening on your phone screen.

“Shareef.” You answered and almost instantly heard him suck his teeth. You ignored his clear distaste for your crush and asked, “He asked if I’m sliding through, do you think ‘Yea, can’t wait to see you’ is good or does that make me sound too eager?”

“How about you just don’t text the nigga at all or you text him no and we just don’t go to the party at all.”

“Melo,” you whined, “I really like him, can you set aside the hate you have for him, please? For me?”

“Why do you even like him so much?”

“Well he’s kind,”

“Any one can be ‘kind’. Next.”

“He makes me laugh,”

“That’s not a valid reason. Clowns can do that. Then again, he is a clown ass nigga so,” Melo shrugged his shoulders and you rolled your eyes, deciding to ignore the statement.

“He’s cute,”

“He look like a big toe.”

“Melo! No he does not!”

“Yes he do. And his teeth all crooked. He need some braces. In fact, remind me to give dude my dentist’s number.”

You rolled your eyes and continued to list your reasons,

“He listens to me,”

Melo sucked his teeth, “So I don’t listen to you?”

“Where did you even get that from? See, now you’re just pulling shit out of thin air to be mad about. What is your problem?”

“Nothing. I just think it’s wild how this nigga come into the picture and all of a sudden I’m getting wiped out of it.”

“Melo what are you talking about?”

“So we just about to act like you haven’t been texting or calling me as much? And we finna act like you don’t want to come see me no more cause you’re always with him?”

“That is not true.”

“Yes it is. Wasn’t it just last week I offered to fly you out to Houston to see my game and you said no cause you and that nigga was supposed to be hanging out all weekend?”

“Oh my God, you still mad about that? Grow up.”

“Grow up? So it’s just fuck my feelings now cause he here?”

“How am I supposed to get to know him if I’m always with you?! I can have a life outside of you LaMelo!” You raised your voice slightly as you started to get heated. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t happy for you, he was supposed to be your friend.

“Why do you even want to get to know him! Ain’t shit to know! He don’t do shit, he don’t have shit but his daddy’s money and a fucked up hairline anyways!”

“Okay, now you’re about to get me mad.”

“Oh me talking about your lil boyfriend make you mad? Man fuck him! It’s not like he’s about to wife you no how! He’s probably trying to hit it and quit it, it’s not like you hard to get at.”

You stared at him for a second, wanting to believe that he didn’t just say what he said out of spite of all things.

“Fuck you! Don’t be mad at me because you’re too attached to me to get your own girlfriend!”

“Oh, I’m too attached now? That’s what we going with?”

“Nigga that’s what’s been happening! You’re so jealous you can’t even let me be happy!”

The two of you pulled up in front of the house party and he stopped the car, leaned back in his seat and looked down at you.

“Alright shut the fuck up. You about to get me hot.”

“Now you want to be a pussy when I tell you the truth. Typical.”

“I said shut the fuck up bruh. I’m not tryna get mad at you.”

You turned towards him in your seat, “You know what your problem is? You can’t get over that lil relationship we had. You need to build a bridge and leave that shit in the past, it was never that serious.” You said. Deep down you didn’t mean it but he already took the argument too far by calling you an easy fuck.

His jaw clenched as he ground his teeth behind his closed lips and his brows furrowed ever so slightly, leaving a small crease in his forehead.

“Oh, so now you don’t got shit to say no more?” You questioned, looking up at him.

He picked up his key and phone, opened the door and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. You watched as he was walked into the party leaving you behind. You blew out some air to calm yourself down before grabbing your things and getting out.

When you walked into the house you couldn’t spot Melo anywhere but your attention was quickly taken away from trying to find him when you felt an arm snake around your waist. You looked up at Shareef, a smile spreading across your face.

“Hey!” You greeted.

“Hey. You look good.” He replied, pulling you into a quick side hug. “Those shoes are fire.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t think you were coming still. You read my text and didn’t reply.”

“Oh! My bad I just.. I got distracted on my way here.”

“Uh huh. You came with your boy?” He asked referring to Melo.

“Yeah.”

“He just walked in here looking mad at the world. Y’all had an argument or sum in the car?”

Shareef started to walk you around the house, away from the main party.

“Something like that. We just didn’t see eye to eye on something.. can we not talk about him, I’m here with you right now, I want to focus on you.” You looked up at Shareef, smiling.

For the next couple hours you hung out with Shareef in the backyard by the fire pit. There were a couple chairs set up in a circle around it so the both of you made yourselves welcome. The two of you talked about any and everything, only leaving to go refill your drinks a few times throughout the night.

“So that’s why I decided to do indisciplinary studies instead of just majoring in one thing.”

You nodded as Shareef finished telling you about his college plans. You liked that he was so goal focused and not all of his goals in life pertained to having a career in the nba like his dad.

“So-” you were cut off by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Yo!”

Both you and Shareef turned to be met with his friend Josh Christopher who you’ve only met a handful of times, another 2 friends you didn’t know and.. Melo.. with a girl under his arm. They all had girls with them but Melo stuck out to you the most.

“Y’all mind if we sit?” Josh asked, already picking a chair and sitting down.

“Go ahead.” Reef said and you just smiled politely watching all of them sit and pull the girls they were with into their laps since there weren’t enough chairs.

You crossed your ankles, feeling uncomfortable as Melo took a seat directly across from you. You still felt tense about the argument the two of you had earlier but he didn’t seem to care much anymore as he was feeling up the girl, who wouldn’t stop giggling, in front of you.

Everyone started to talk as a group and you said a few things here and there but mainly kept to yourself.

“So, Reef,” Josh said getting everyone’s attention, “I don’t mean to be nosy or nothing.. but imma be nosy, what’s going on with you and her?” He nodded his head towards you.

“Whatchu mean?” Shareef laughed

“You know what I mean. Is that your girl? Is future Mrs. O’Neil in our presence?”

Shareef looked over at you, “You wanna be future Mrs. O’Neil?” He asked, a wide smile on his face.

You returned the smile and shrugged, “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see.” You laughed. You managed to catch Melo’s glare as you turned your head. He had completely stopped giving the girl in his lap attention and his eyes were dead set on you as he wore the same expression he did in the car before he stormed out earlier.

You ignored his dirty look and him, looking back at Shareef as the two of you got back into your own conversation.

“Did I already tell you you look good tonight?” He asked as he moved closer to you.

“I believe you did.” You grinned, also moving closer to him. You had already shut Melo out of your mind.

“Well, just to let you know, you look good tonight.” He commented and you responded with a giggle, “Nah, but for real, you look good. I like your makeup and that shiny stuff you got on your lips.”

“My lipgloss?” You questioned, cocking a brow at the fact he acted as though he didn’t know what lipgloss was.

“Mhm. It smells nice. Like strawberries.”

“It’s strawberry flavored. Fun fact.”

“Does it taste like strawberries too?” He was getting very close to your face, you could almost feel his breath against you.

You leaned in, further closing the small gap between you two and whispered, “Find out.”

You were caught of guard when instead of feeling Shareef’s lips against yours you felt yourself getting pulled back and stood up. You looked back as you were quickly being dragged away from the group and of course, Melo was the one pulling you away.

He was facing the house so you couldn’t see his face.

“Melo! Let me go!” You struggled out, trying to yank your arm out of his grip, which only made him hold on tighter.

“Aye!” You looked back at the group, seeing Shareef stand up while everyone else looked amongst themselves in confusion.

Shareef grabbed your free arm making Melo stop and look back at him.

“Whatchu doing bruh? Let her go.” Reef said as he tugged you towards him.

“Imma give you 2 seconds to let go of her before I punch you dead in your shit.”

“I don’t want to fight you. We in public bro, just chill out and let her go.”

“One.”

“I know you her friend and all but you’re overdoing this shit. I know you’re not about to hit me in front of all these-”

Before Shareef could finish his sentence, one of Melo’s fists went flying at his face. Luckily, he dodged it but that didn’t stop Melo from swinging again.

“Melo! Chill out!” You placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back.

“Yo, go talk to your boy. He wildin’.” Shareef had already let you go by now.

“I will. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back.” You told him as Melo had already started pulling you away again.

“You won’t.” You heard Melo grumble as he pulled out through the back door of the house.

“Slow down!” You said as he brought you upstairs before opening a door and pushing you inside the room. The door closed and you heard a click as the door locked. He flipped on the light and you could now see he brought you into a bathroom.

You looked back at him, an angry expression on your face. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He didn’t respond as he backed you up into the counter behind you. He reached behind you and picked up a small towel and then grabbed your face. “What are you-”

“Shut the fuck up. Damn! You talk to much.” He cut you off harshly before starting to roughly wipe the lipgloss off of your lips.

“You got me all the way fucked up right now.” He continued to grumble as he flipped on the tap behind you and wet the towel before bringing it back to your lips and wiping again, “Do it taste like strawberries too? Find out,” he mocked, “I can’t believe your ass.” He grumbled as he continued to wipe.

You pushed his hand away from your mouth, “What is your issue?!”

“Don’t ask me no stupid shit like that. You know exactly what my issue is.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t see why you had to come and embarrass me in front of everyone like that.” You hit his chest which made him take a step back.

“I embarrassed you?” He said shocked, as if he wasn’t the one in the wrong.

“YES!” You said louder than you had intended for it to come out. You almost felt like crying thinking back on what had just taken place. “What is your issue today?! First you basically call me an easy hoe in the car and now this?! Did you even for a second stop to think about my feelings?!”

“No.” He shrugged, “Cause you never thought about mine. And don’t act like you didn’t say some foul shit too. Our relationship ‘was never that serious’ you remember that?”

“You can’t use that against me, you’re the one that started everything. I don’t understand why you can’t just be happy for me.”

“Be happy for you?” He made a face, “How do you expect me to be happy seeing the woman I love move on and rub that shit in my face? You want me to be happy about that? I tried to tolerate it but you want me to keep a straight face and act like it doesn’t bother me when you give another nigga attention the way you use to give me?” He stepped closer to you, now only a few centimeters separated both of your bodies, “You expect me to sit up here with a straight face as you’re about to kiss someone else? I admit, I was wrong for doing that in front of all those people but can you blame me?… I thought I could keep my shit together and be just friends with you but to be honest,”

He he cut himself off and picked you up and placed you on the counter, standing in between your legs and placed both his hands on either side of you before saying, “I didn’t want to break up to begin with. I’m greedy baby. Ion wanna share you with nobody.” His soft lips brushed against yours before capturing them in a warm kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as your arms snaked around his neck.

His lips moved down to your neck, you moaned as you felt his teeth gently bite down on your skin while he kissed and sucked around the area. You already knew he’d leave a hickey. One of his hands started to creep up your shirt, gently tracing your stomach before making its way to your back and unhooked your bra. He pulled away from your neck and pulled your shirt off of you from the bottom, up and discarded it behind him before sliding each of your bra straps off your shoulders and tossing the bra on the floor like he did your shirt.

He placed his lips back on yours as his both of his hands started to fondle your breasts. He lightly squeezed the left one and pinched your right nipple with his other hand which made you squeal. He chuckled into the kiss and did it again, this time pinching both nipples harder than he had before which evoked the same sound from you.

“Be gentle, they’re sensitive.” You mumbled.

“I know,” he mumbled back, repeating the same action again, smiling as he watched you pull away from the kiss, throwing your head back slightly with your eyes shut tightly, “That’s why I like doing it.”

He brought you back into the kiss, moving his hands from your breasts (to your relief) and placed them by your sides. A moment later his hands got busy again, with his right one unzipping your jeans while the left one spread your legs further. His right hand snaked into your pants. You were dripping in anticipation, waiting to feel his fingers stroke your sensitive skin but instead he touched you from outside your panties. You felt his index finger rub your clit through the thin fabric and whimpered out needily, “Melo please,” you said breathlessly, breaking the kiss.

“Please, what?”

“Touch me.” It was torture having his finger so close but feeling so far.

Instead of doing what you asked oh so kindly for he removed his hand and went back to undressing you. He stepped back and grabbed one of your feet, untying one of your sneakers and setting it down on the ground before moving to the other one, untying the laces painfully slow. Once your sneakers were off he grabbed the waistband of your jeans and started to pull the article of clothing off of your legs. Once half your thigh was exposed he bent down and pressed a kiss on one of your thighs. “This was always my favorite part of your body.” He said quietly as he continued to pull your jeans down your legs. He pulled them off the rest of the way and let them fall to the ground after he pulled them off your ankles.

He refocused his attention back on your thighs, pressing a few, scattered, soft kisses on them as he inched back up towards your pussy. He licked your inner thigh, making you shiver before saying, “This,” he took his index finger and pressed it directly against your clit, “Is my second favorite part of you.”

Your hands grabbed the hem of your panties and tried to pull them down but he stopped you, lightly smacking away your hands and stood up straight once more.

“Melo..” you whined as you watched his lips stray farther and farther away from your pussy.

“Uh uh, no whining, you fucked up yourself.” He leaned in close, “What’s my one rule when we making love?”

“Not to touch myself.” You replied quietly, “But you were teasing.”

“That don’t matter my love.” He pecked your lips, “A rule is a rule.”

He pulled away and took off his shirt. You watched as his tanned abs and then his number 1 tattoo on his chest were exposed. He dropped his shirt on the ground and you took in his appearance for a second. His gold chains were shining under the light. You watched as he slipped off his shoes and then took a step back before waving you over and then pointing a finger down on the ground. You slid off the counter and got your knees in front of him. No words needed to be said, you knew what he wanted. You slid his slim-fit sweatpants down his legs. He made it easier for you by kicking them off his ankles.

You reached up, your hands feeling the bulge in his underwear. You looked up into his eyes, putting on your most innocent look face as your lips pressed against his tip through the fabric before you lightly drug your tongue against it. You could feel his hard on strain against the fabric as you did so. You, wanting him in your mouth already and too eager to continue teasing, pulled his underwear down his legs. His dick sprung out, almost hitting his stomach.

Your mouth hung open slightly as your eyes focused on all maybe 8 or 9 inches of his length. It throbbed slightly, some precum leaking out of the tip and down the base. Melo grabbed the base of his dick and guided it towards your lips, only needing to say “Open,” before you parted your lips and let him push each inch into your mouth.

You bobbed your head, guiding your tongue all along his length, outlining each vein, before moving it back to the tip, swirling it around. “Fuck,” he rasped out as his hands tangled in your hair, giving him a good grip on your head. He tried to push more of himself into your mouth but you stopped him, pulling back. “It can’t fit all in my mouth,” you said, using the time his dick was out of your mouth to catch your breath. “We’ll make it fit down your throat then.” He said as he pushed his shaft back into your mouth. When you felt his tip hit the back of your throat you gagged loudly to which he instructed, “Relax. Relax your throat.”

You did as he said, relaxing the best you could as you felt the tip of his dick move past the back of your throat and downward. You watched as each inch disappeared and your nose pressed against his stomach. “Good girl,” you heard him remark in a breathy moan. He pulled back again to let you breath before pushing his entire length down your throat once more. He got into rhythm, fucking your throat and guiding your head. It got sloppy quick, saliva dripping off of his dick and onto the floor and onto the both of you in the process. He thrusted down your throat one last time before cumming with a loud moan. You nearly choked as he came ropes down your throat without warning but somehow survived it without one gag. He pulled his saliva coated dick out of your mouth with a satisfied sigh and you swallowed the left over cum and saliva in your mouth.

He scooped you up and you felt yourself being set back on the counter. To your surprise he kissed you, rolling his tongue against yours as he slipped off your panties. Your juices had leaked through them and were starting to come down your legs. Something about sucking dick made you so horny. Melo’s head dipped down but you grabbed it, saying, “Just fuck me.” You didn’t even want head anymore. He did as you wanted, pressing his tip against your entrance before pushing in each inch of his dick slowly. You let out a satisfied moan, enjoying the feeling of having him back inside you after so long. He placed his head in the crook of your neck as his dick bottomed out inside you and you gripped his shoulders. You felt his lips brush against your ear before hearing, “It feels so good to be in my pussy again,” before he pulled out and thrust back in roughly, “And no other nigga better have been in it.” You let out a moan in response while shaking your head.

He fucked you like a mad man, thrusting in out of you faster and harder than you could comprehend. Your eyes started to subconsciously roll to the back of your head and your mouth hung open as a trail of endless moans left your lips. “You feel so good,” he whispered in your ear which set you off. You cleaned around his shaft, your nails gripped his back tighter and you started to cum all over his dick to which he responded with a groan saying, “You don’t know how good that feels,”

He fucked you on the counter for a few more minutes before you felt yourself getting picked up. Without missing a beat, or pulling out of you he switched your position, having you now bent over the counter. He gave your head him towards the mirror, “I want you to watch while we make love.” He leaned in close, switching the pass or his thrusts. “How does it feel?” He asked as he placed a kiss on your neck.

“I-it feels..” you struggled to get out, trying to keep your head up like he wanted.

The kisses moved from your neck to your cheek, “How it feel baby, talk to me.”

“It feels good.” You moaned out, “It feels so good daddy.”

“There you go,” he said as his thrusts picked up again. You let out another embarrassingly loud moan when you felt his fingers rub your very sensitive clit and he asked, “You love me? Hm?” Before feeling a kiss on your shoulder blade.

“Yes baby, oh my god, I love you so muchhh.”

He chuckled before using his free hand to face your face towards him. He pressed his lips against yours, trying to give you a kiss but you were moaning too much to kiss him back. He faced your head back towards the mirror, “You not letting no nigga take my place again, right?”

“Noo, never again,” you replied breathlessly before letting out another loud moan as you came everywhere once again.

“Good.” He placed a small peck on your cheek and let go of your head and moved his other hand from your pussy. He then gripped both of your arms and held them behind your back as he stood up straight and fucked you mercilessly.

——————————

I didn’t think I’d finish this today, but here I am, hours later lmao. I hope you all enjoyed. People have been asking me to do an imagine where Melo likes his best friend and they have sex for so long lmao so I hope this satisfied those anons.

Side note: imagine Melo telling you he doesn’t want to share you with nobody else but himself 😩

Please excuse any errors. I’m tired lol.

[fivelakesinwriting]

Out of Character (Rafe Cameron) Part 12

Author's Notes: This was inspired by the episode Parcel 9. I really wanted to show a real boiling point between the two families, despite the working relationship between Anthony and Ward - and how they have to deal with their children's actions. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment!! xoxo

Warnings: Angst, abuse - emotional and borderline physical, violence, swearing , mentions of drugs,

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

Anthony Mercer was livid when he got the call from his boss that his daughter was at Tannyhill. Not only was she at Tannyhill, but in the shower with Rafe Cameron. He didn't know how long she had been there, but he didn't care to. He muttered a quick, "thank you" to Ward Cameron then hung up his phone while his blood pressure began to rise.

He had boys from The Cut coming through his windows and boys from Figure Eight knocking on his front door. He didn't know what to do with his daughter any more. He ran a hand over his face before he grabbed his keys off of his desk and stalked out of his office to go pick up Gemma.

Anthony Mercer pulled his car around the drive of Tannyhill, a heavy exhale escaping his nose when he saw Gemma standing on the front step with Rafe Cameron. He put the car in park, but kept the engine running.

"Get in the car, Gemma." Anthony stated as he got out of the driver's side and took the few steps towards the young couple.

"Dad -"

"I don't want to hear it. Get in the car." Anthony growled with a stern point of his index finger at Gemma then the Mercedes.

"Mr. Mercer, I was going to bring her home. I found her on The Cut -" Rafe began with a scratch on the back of his neck.

"And then you got her in the shower with you? You were going to bring her home right after that?" Anthony Mercer seethed as he looked his bosses son up and down.

"Dad, stop." Gemma demanded as she reached for Rafe's bicep and stood close to him.

"You're not staying here, Gemma. Get in the car, I'm taking you home." Anthony reached for her wrist, but Rafe put a hand out to stop him.

"Don't put your hands on her, man." Rafe glared, all his respect for his father's employee and his girlfriend's father vacating his body. If Gemma didn't want to leave, she didn't have to. Especially not at her father's hand.

"Get out of my way, Rafe. You've done enough." Anthony replied through gritted teeth and a push of Rafe's hand.

"I've done enough? You locked Gemma in her bedroom like an inmate for a week. You called her a whore. I think you should leave." Rafe replied with a scoff, his signature smirk across his face.

"Listen, here. I know about the money you took from your father. How you bought your bike over there with that generator money. I also know about your little drug habit. I know everything, Son. What Gemma knows, I know. What your father knows, I know. I am the eyes and ears on this island, so you better watch how you talk to me." Anthony growled as he stood toe to toe with Rafe.

Rafe pursed his lips and glared at the older man, but said nothing back. Anthony Mercer had him cornered. Although Rafe kept his stance firm in front of Gemma, he did not stop Anthony from taking hold of her and pulling her towards the Mercedes.

Gemma looked back at him with sad eyes before she ducked her head down under the frame of the car, her father closing the door harshly after her. Anthony Mercer tossed one final glare at Rafe before he got in the car and drove off just as another person walked up the long drive towards the tall Cameron boy.

"Oh, did I miss your girlfriend?" Barry called as he made his way up the drive.

"Shit. Barry, you can't be here." Rafe panicked as he made his way off the stone steps of Tannyhill and walked towards the shorter man.

"Well, I was just coming by to check on that money you still owe me. You gave me another bitches number, and you still owe for all that coke. So I was just checking in on you, Baby Boy. But, seems like I'm not the only one who has an issue with your ass." Barry grinned as he looked the taller man up then down before his eyes trailed over to the Mercedes that took off down the street.

"I..I don't have your money right now. But if you give me until the weekend at the latest, I'll have it to you." Rafe stammered out, a hand running over his face as his eyes flickered over the property to make sure no one else had seen Barry walk up.

"The weekend? Who do you think I am? Fucking loans till pay day? You owe me money, Cameron." Barry growled, grabbing Rafe at the elbow and wrist, twisting his body towards the motorcycle that sat close to the steps.

Rafe fought against the grip on his left arm, but Barry was surprisingly strong for his size. Barry wrestled Rafe over towards the exhaust of the bike which was still hot from the quick ride Rafe had taken Gemma on around the property before Anthony Mercer broke up the party. Rafe roared in pain as his forearm singed against the hot metal of the exhaust, his free hand gripped at Barry's shin in an attempt to get him to let go.

"You pay me now. Right now." Barry ordered as he pushed Rafe's arm off the exhaust, grabbed his wallet from his back pocket to take whatever money laid inside. He shuffled through the bills, took the out then tossed Rafe's wallet onto his lap as he sat on the ground clutching his singed forearm.

"Next time, I come back and I take something from inside Daddy's house instead of just your allowance. You hear me, Country Club?" Barry muttered as he crouched down in front of Rafe and gave his face a playful jab.

Rafe nodded with a wince before he laid on his back, his arm against his chest as he released a heavy breath.

"You have until Saturday." Barry stated firmly as he stood up straight and began to make his way off the property again.

Rafe laid on his back, looking up at the clear blue sky before he let out a scream of pain and frustration. Barry had taken all of his money, everything he had. And he still owed him more. The only thing he had was his bike, but that wasn't going anywhere.

Hot tears of frustration burned the corners of his eyes as he came up with his plan. He knew his father had business meetings today around this time. Ward Cameron had called Gemma's father, told him where she was and then made his way out of the house. Rafe knew had a bit of time to get in and out of the Warden's office.

He only needed one Rolex to cover his tab with Barry.

**

Rafe Cameron had never been so nervous. He wasn't the type to usually get nervous. But something about driving in complete silence, late at night deep into The Cut with his father felt ominous. His heart raced in his chest and he felt like he was going to be sick. He wasn't sure what Ward's plan was once they reached Barry's house, but he knew it couldn't possibly be good.

"Dad, I learned my lesson. Please. It's just a couple hundred dollars." Rafe mumbled after Ward Cameron put the car in park outside the run down home, weeds growing higher than the SUV.

"And her?" Ward questioned with a point of his finger through the windshield at an idling car a few feet in front of them.

Rafe's heart dropped to his feet as he noticed the Mercedes Gemma's father drove. He unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door, but Ward grabbed his arm just above his burn mark and squeezed.

"Stay in the car. Do not go near her. You understand me?" Ward demanded as he unfastened his own seat belt and got out of the car without Rafe's response.

Rafe shook with both fear and anticipation in the front of his father's SUV. He had no idea what was going on outside the tinted windows. He could only see the faint glow of the fire on Barry's property, and the taillights of Anthony Mercer's car. His fingers trembled as he took his phone out of his front pocket. As went to type Gemma a message a commotion of voices out by the fire cause his fingers to pause.

Rafe cautiously opened his door and got out of the car. In front of him, he watched as Gemma did the same thing. Before he was able to acknowledge his girlfriend, or touch her, he watched as his father kicked Barry in the face as he bent over to pick the remainder the money he was owed.

"Dad."

"I told you to stay in the car. And to stay away from her." Ward glared, his tone even with anger. He rolled up his sleeves to his forearm as he grabbed the cell phone from the back of Barry's pocket then nodded to Anthony Mercer who stood just behind the fire.

"Gemma, I said to stay in the car." Anthony grumbled as he walked around the edge of the fire pit to take the cell phone from Ward's hands.

"Why are we even here?" Gemma asked as she took a few tentative steps towards the father's, her hand reaching for Rafe's.

"If you're going to be a Mercer, you're going to act like a Mercer. No more sneaking around with boys from The Cut, and running off with the Cameron's. We came here for respect, Gemma. And we're going to get it." Anthony replied, his voice low, as he handed the cell phone to Gemma and she recognized it as her own.

"That's mine." Gemma whispered as she reached for her cell phone, just out of reach in her father's grasp.

"Then why does a cocaine dealer on The Cut have it, Gemma?" Anthony asked as he held the device between his fingers, as if it were cards.

"It must have fallen out of my pocket earlier when we -"

"When nothing, Gemma Nadine. This phone? Gone. You are not to see that Maybank boy again. Or Topper Thornton." Anthony glared as he pulled his elbow back and tossed the phone as far as he could into the brush that surrounded Barry's house. He threw the device so far, Gemma didn't even hear it land.

"Dad, you can't let him talk to her like this." Rafe scoffed as he released his hand from Gemma's white knuckle grip, shook his hand out, and took a few tentative steps towards his own father.

Ward Cameron watched, his mouth drawn in a thin line, as his son took the bold steps towards him but did not stand directly in front of him. He could still see the way his eldest child held his shoulders up high, tense with anticipation.

"I can, and I will. You've gotten away with a lot, Rafe. But not anymore. You're a thief, a liar and a cheat. If you want to play this piece of shit along and cheat him out of money, that's fine. But not me. Not in my house." Ward stated, far too calmly for Rafe's liking.

"Dad -" Rafe replied, a deep tremor in his voice.

"If you want to be here so bad, then stay here. You're not welcome back at Tannyhill."

With less than a full scan of Rafe's full height, Ward Cameron turned on his heel and made his way back to the SUV. Rafe let out a deep breath, his heart racing as he realized what his father had just said to him. He looked from the spot his father had just stood over to his girlfriend as tears streamed down her face.

"Baby -" Gemma whispered as she began to step over to him, her hands outstretched to comfort him.

"Get in the car, Gemma." Anthony demanded sternly, a hand gripped at the back of her neck.

"But what about -"

"Car!" Anthony shouted as he released his grip on her with a shove of her shoulder and a glare at Rafe.

Rafe winced at the sound of Anthony's yell and watched as Gemma shuffled towards the Mercedes. His heart broke as he watched her get in the car with a loud sob, pleading with her father to let her stay to say goodbye to Rafe. The argument between parent and child was out of earshot, and Rafe wasn't sure he wanted to hear it anyways.

Rafe shut his eyes as he pushed his hands through his hair, he wouldn't cry over his father. But he would cry over Gemma. His heart fucking ached as he watched the taillights of the Mercedes drive away on the dirt path. Gemma didn't have her phone anymore, and he wasn't going to run into the brush to retrieve it for her. At least not in the middle of the night.

"Well, Country Club. That was fucked up. You and your girl got some daddy issues." Barry groaned from his spot in front of the fire as he propped himself up on his hands and knees before he gathered the strength to stand back up.

**

The next morning JJ Maybank woke up to a tight anxious feeling in his chest. It wasn't something unusual for him, but this feeling was different than the usual anxiety that sat heavy on his heart. He couldn't explain the feeling - he rarely could. But something didn't feel right.

From the moment he woke up he felt as though something was wrong. He began turning The Chateau upside down looking for something. The couch cushions tossed aside, tables turned over, cabinet doors left open and clothing pulled from their once rightful drawers as he searched.

"Is this you starting Spring cleaning? Because it's almost August." John B grumbled as he scuffed his feet across the floor from his bedroom and into the kitchen.

"Something isn't right." JJ replied as he pushed a bunch of empty beer cans off the counter, letting them crash to the floor.

"Why would you do that?" John B sighed as he pushed a hand through his thick hair.

"Something doesn't feel wrong to you?" JJ asked, his hands wild as he gesticulated.

"Man, I'll be honest. Things have been wrong for a while. So, I don't really know what you want me to say." John B sighed with a scratch to the back of his neck.

As JJ went to reply the door to The Chateau burst open and a disgruntled looking Pope ran in. He pulled his hat off his head and looked at the mess JJ had created around the small home.

"Don't ask." John B muttered as he made his way towards the fridge for something to eat.

"What's going on? Someone cancel math camp?" JJ questioned, eyebrows raised at his friend.

"My dad was talking to Anthony Mercer this morning and he said last night Ward kicked Rafe out. And Anthony tossed Gemma's phone into the marsh. Kook dads went postal on The Cut last night." Pope panted, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

"Ward Cameron kicked Rafe out?" John B stated, he didn't like the the proclaimed Kook King, but he knew the feeling of being on the outs with your father.

"And Gemma's dad cracked! Guys, this feels bad." Pope whispered, his already wide eyes on the verge of falling out of his head.

"That's because it is bad, Pope. Ward Cameron and Anthony Mercer together are explosive. I don't know what they're up to, but it's bad." JJ growled as he pushed his hands through his hair then stormed off to his bedroom down the hallway.

He wouldn't let Anthony Mercer lock Gemma in that room again.

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment - thank you for your support, and I'm sorry this one was kind of sad xoxo

Requests for OBX are open, as is the tag list for this story!

Tag List:

@stilynskii @sodasback @cooper8224

@multisimpinghoe @lovelyxtom @chicagoblackhawkslover96

[winterscaptain]

mom.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: shoutout to aimz for affirming this version of this fic!! i had an image the other day and had to sit down and write it. thank you for your patience as i took a little break this week. 

words: 1.2k warnings: none!

summary: “mother is the heartbeat in the home; and without her, there seems to be no heartthrob.” — leroy brownlow

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

Before you leave the room, you hear Jack call out for you in a small voice. 

“Yeah, bug?” You turn, leaning on the door jamb.

“Can you come back here a minute?” 

You nod and cross the room, kneeling at his bedside. “What’s going on buddy?”

He looks nervous, but you wait him out. He spends a few moments shuffling in bed, wringing his hands, generally looking a lot like his father, but then asks, “Can I call you Mom?”

There’s nothing but static in your brain. 

Recovering quickly so he doesn’t feel rejected, you grab his hands and kiss them. “Can I talk to your dad about it? I want to make sure he’s okay with it.”

Jack nods, but to your relief, doesn’t look disappointed. “Yeah.” 

With a kiss to the top of his head, you tell him you love him. 

+++

As soon as Jack’s asleep, you try to settle into bed, but the photo of Haley on Aaron’s dresser just stares you down and eats you alive. You shake your head and strip, jumping into the shower before it's even warm. 

+++

When Aaron steps into the apartment, it’s quiet and dark, save for the sound of the shower and the sliver of light arcing into the living room from the master bedroom. 

He drops his briefcase at the door and loosens his tie on his way across the room and down the hall. 

Pausing when he gets to the door, he listens. 

Is that….are you?

Crying? 

He trots into the bathroom and finds you behind the glass shower door, curled into a ball under the water. He toes off his shoes and steps into the tub to crouch in front of you, still in his suit, unfazed by the water. “Sweetheart?”

“I can’t be her, Aaron. I’m not her. I’m not his mom I’m not -”

“Stop,” he says. “That’s enough.” He pauses, taking a breath. “Did Jack ask if he could call you mom tonight?” 

You nod and curl further into yourself. “I can’t be her.”

He gathers you into his arms, the shower still running, and says, “You don’t have to. He’s not asking you to be her. He’s asking you to be something you already are.”

You sniff and lean back, looking at him. “What?”

“Come on.” He stands and brings you with him, reaching past you to turn on the water. “Let’s dry you off and get into bed.”

+++

After hanging his suit to drip-dry, he finds you in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed. He closes all the doors, turns the lights off, and sits beside you, pulling you up to rest against the headboard. 

You’re both still wet and without clothes, but that doesn’t matter. 

“I just...I froze, Aaron. I didn’t know what to say but I didn't want to scare him so I told him I had to talk to you about it first.” 

He traces your arm with his finger as he talks, grounding you. “That’s okay. I told him you’d probably say something like that.” 

“What?” You lean back and your brow furrows. “You what?”

A little smile crosses his face. “You think we haven’t talked about it? Honey, he’s been asking me about how to ask you for weeks now.” 

That basically takes all the wind out of your sails. “Oh.” 

If you’re honest, you feel a little stupid. Jack’s not the kind of kid to just do things out of nowhere. He obsesses and second-guesses and asks his dad about everything, so the very idea that he asked you out of the blue is as ridiculous as it is out of character. 

To your surprise, Aaron laughs a little. “Don’t feel stupid. I thought it would be a nice surprise for you, but now I’m realizing I probably should have warned you.”

“That might’ve been nice.” 

You can feel his smile when he kisses your temple. “I know, but I wanted him to feel...I dunno. Confident?” He pauses. “But, that’s not the point.” 

You look at him, a little confused. 

“How do you feel about it? I would understand if you’re not comfortable or -”

“No. I’m…” You trail off, feeling a little bad for interrupting him without really knowing what you’re going to say. “I’m comfortable. I just…”

Your eyes wander to the photo of you and Jack and Haley again. She still smiles at you out of the frame, just as she always has. You shift your attention to the one beside it - the one of Haley and Aaron on their wedding day, the one you insisted he keep up after he made an attempt to put it somewhere else after you moved in. 

He breaks your attention with a tap on the back of your hand. “Do you want to talk to her?” 

“What?” 

+++

With a certain degree of amusing theatrics, he threw on a pair of pajama pants, snuck into Jack’s room, and stole the little candle they use to “talk” to Haley. 

When he returns, he lights it, hands you the picture of her from 1997 at the Space Needle he keeps in his wallet, and walks out. 

“Hi Hales.”  

+++

You’re asleep when he returns, the photo loose between your fingers and the candle long out. He watches you sleep for a minute before gingerly tucking you in and slipping the photo back into his wallet. 

+++

The next morning, he hears you and Jack on the couch, talking quietly, but not so much so he can’t hear from the hallway. 

“...I’d love nothing more, my love.” 

“Did you talk to Dad about it?” 

Aaron hears you hum and kiss what he thinks is the top of Jack’s head. “Yeah. I talked to your momma, too.” 

“Really?” 

“Really. You know how much she loves you, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

There’s never enough time for Aaron to really consider how lucky he is. He doesn’t just have a partner who loves his son. He has a partner who loves the mother of his son. 

A partner who understands the weight of “Mom” in the Hotchner house. 

He finally rounds the corner to find the pair of you curled together around a plate of fruit, watching cartoons one low volume. 

“Hi, Dad!” Jack says, grinning up at Aaron. “Mom and I are starting an old show called Tom and Jerry. Wanna watch?”

You suppress a smile as Aaron scoffs, “Old,” and sits beside you, tucking the both of you under his arm. 

You turn to press a kiss to the side of his chest. “I love you.” 

“I love you too...” He kisses the top of your head and says, just for your ears, “...best mom ever.” 

+++

tagging: @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @jeor @roses-and-grasses @word-scribbless @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @joanofarkansass @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw @deagibs @crazyshannonigans @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 10

Dabi x Reader, Bakugo x Reader

Words : 7142

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

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“Hold her down! Fuck! How is she still this strong? How much did you give her?”

Your vision was black, and you couldn’t tell if that was because you were blindfolded or just too drugged up to open your eyes. You could hear shuffling as two? No three people moved around you. One was pinning your arms down while another played with the collar that was digging into your neck.

“Listen man, I don’t think we’re supposed to be in here. If they find out we played with their new toy they’ll be pissed!”

There was a new set of hands gently pushing your flimsy medical gown up, “You heard what they were saying right? They said she’s the best sex a man will ever have in their life. It’s like her quirk or something.” You wanted to cry out, but your tongue felt like lead in your mouth. Were you even able to speak? Were you gagged? You couldn’t even tell. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” The hand firmly pressed into your hip. “Now hold her down, and make sure she stays quiet.”

You woke with a rush. Your breath beyond labored as you tried to run from the memories that refused to stay hidden for long. A new set of hands circled around your waist. These hands were different though. These hands were rough and callused. These hands were patient. These hands were reassuring.

“You want to talk about it?”

You shook your head before turning into him and burying your face into his chest. “Just another bad memory.”

His fingers trailed through your hair as he repeatedly kissed the top of your head. “Sometimes I wish I could just hop into your head, like you did mine the other night. Then I could see their faces. And I never forget a face…”

You heard the unsaid threat in his words. He wanted to know your demons so he could hunt them down. He was like Bakugo in that way. They both needed to do something…anything to make them feel like they were helping. The only difference is at the end of the day Bakugo’s victims end up in prison and Dabi’s end up six feet under.

The pounding in your head only seemed to increase. The drums of regret beating behind your eyeballs. “God.. why did we drink so much yesterday?” You groaned and curled further into Dabi’s side.

His fingers rubbed at your temples. “I seem to remember it being your idea. And who am I to deny the drinking queen.”

You groaned as you remembered your antics. “I know you’re not exactly known for being a good influence… but you could have tried a little harder to at least get me to drink some water.”

Dabi vibrated with soft chuckles. “Consider your hangover penance for making me play that ridiculous game. Now get off of me and go take a shower. You smell like a bar.”

With a pouting look you sighed, “But I’m still sad.”

Dabi gave your ass a hard slap. “There is no rule that says you can’t be sad and in the shower. Get your ass in there and clean yourself up. You’ll feel better after your clean and fed. I promise.”

With a chorus of dramatic groans and muffled curses you pulled yourself off of him and slowly made your way to his bathroom. You stopped right before you crossed the threshold and turned to give him your poutiest look, “Are you really going to make me do it alone.”

A pillow flew through the air faster than you thought possible and hit you in the face. “You are more than capable of cleaning yourself. I have other things I need to take care of.”

You stuck your bottom lip out, “Just because I can doesn’t mean that I want to.”

Like a man possessed, Dabi slowly got out of bed. He moved so slow, as if he was a predator stalking his prey. You instinctively held your breath in anticipation as he inched closer and closer. His eyes like a dim fire, but focused on you all the same. He invaded your personal space, slamming his hand on the door behind you beside your head. He leaned down until his nose brushed yours and his lips hovered over yours.

You closed your eyes as he leaned closer but right before your lips connected, “I don’t remember asking what you wanted. You need to take a shower, and I need to handle some business. If you’re still this desperate later then I’ll be more than happy to fuck you.” He gripped your chin and bumped your nose with his. “It’s not that I don’t want to. But I don’t want you to fall into a habit of letting me have my way with you every time you have a bad memory. It’s not fair to either of us.” You felt a single tear streak down your cheek as you nodded. “If it’s just a distraction fine, but you need to learn how to confront and deal with this shit on your own. It’ll just be harder later if you don’t. Believe me.”

A few beats of silence passed before he reluctantly backed away from you. His fingers lingering before letting go of you completely. It wasn’t until he was exiting his room you had the nerve to speak up. “You’re not just a distraction.”

There was no telling if he actually heard you or not. If he did, he didn’t react or respond. Your admission caught you surprise, and you almost hoped he hadn’t. You thought about this weird new attachment you were feeling to Dabi lately while you took your shower. You wouldn’t go as far as to call this foreign new feeling love or anything crazy like that. But you were growing quite fond of his presence. You felt comfort in his warmth, and you appreciated the way his hands always knew just wear to touch to ease your anxiety. Sure, he was a certified asshole, but at least he kept you strong. He made sure you took care of yourself. He didn’t take your shit or your excuses. He got you walking, talking, and opening up within weeks.

You went through your routine slowly, taking your time under the hot water. You’d rather not think about the memory that surfaced last night. But Dabi was right. You needed to take time to work things out yourself. His comfort was more of a band aid, a temporary fix. You needed to at least try to heal on your own.

You had no idea when it happened. It seemed like it was pretty early in your captivity. Back when you still had a little fight in you. You didn’t actually remember what happened after that but you can only assume the worst. Your skin crawled at the thought. You hugged yourself as you let the water hit your back. You closed your eyes as you let your heart beat slowly even out. You refused to let this define you. You were more than your trauma. You thought about Dabi again. He had his own scars. Both literally and figuratively. He had to look in the mirror every day and see the evidence of his trauma every day. If he could do that then you could do this.

One look into the mirror showed that your hair was absurdly long. You would need to cut it soon. But for now, you could just braid it. You giggled as you finished, it was like you had a secret weapon. It gave you a childish idea.

Skipping out of the room you made your way to the kitchen where Dabi was currently on the phone. If hero training taught you anything, it was stealth.

Silent as a mouse you tiptoed up to his turned back.

“We’ll be fine. You’re more than welcome to come if you’re that worried, but I promise it’s not a big deal.” You paused right before you pounced on him, curiosity getting the best of you. “I’ll send you the location, as well as updates. Will that make you feel better?” You could hear a rough voice on the other end and you instinctively knew it was Katsuki. “She’s fine, calm down already. She’s behind me right now thinking she’s sneaky would you like to talk to her?” You leapt at him swinging your braid like a whip and hitting him in the chest.

You froze as Dabi’s gaze flipped to you in seconds. “You want to talk to him?”

You silently nodded as you excepted the phone from him. “Hi…”

A relieved sigh, “I was worried you’d still be mad at me.”

You suddenly wished he was physically here so you could reassure him. “It was silly for me to react that way. It’s obviously not your fault. It… it just sucks.”

“I know…”

So many words hovered on the tip of your tongue, but you just couldn’t make yourself say them. “I feel like we need to talk, but I don’t want it to be over the phone.”

Katsuki gave a nervous chuckle, “Well I guess you’re in luck.” The doorbell rang out and you almost dropped Dabi’s phone.

Dabi took his phone back from you before stomping off to open the front door. “I really didn’t think you’d take me seriously when I said you could come.”

Without breaking eye contact with you Katsuki entered the house, “Well you did offer, and I did come. So, quite bitching and deal with it.” He noticed your nervous posture and he softened, which was something you didn’t think he was capable of. “You want to hash it out here, or would you like to talk privately?”

You nodded your head towards the back door, “It’s a nice day. We can sit on the patio.”

Dabi was secretly grateful. You would get the chance to have an honest conversation with Bakugo while also staying where he could see you.

Katsuki followed you out to the garden. He notices how you refused to look at the pool but he didn’t comment on it. “So… are we gonna talk about it?”

You collapsed into your chair and sighed. “I think we need to.” You looked up and your eyes locked with his vermillion ones. “Look, I’m sorry for reacting the way I did. I just… It’s just not fair.” You huffed as you averted your eyes. “That sounds so fucking childish but it’s how I feel. You, Izuku, Shoto, you all got to achieve your dreams. You’re heroes. But the people who did this, who are still doing this to me… they’re technically heroes too.”

His hands squeezed yours, but he made no attempt to cut off your little rant. “They would never do this to you. No one would even believe them if they tried. The public love you guys and you’re damn good at your jobs… and yet there’s nothing you can do to help me…” You could feel his gaze on you and your cheeks reddened. “I just feel helpless and stupid. Stupid for believing so much in the system. Stupid for falling for all their little tricks. Stupid for not seeing the bigger picture. And at the end of the day I can’t even fight it because I did those things… well not all of it, but a good majority. All I can do is lay low and pray no one ever finds me. I’m fucking helpless.”

He grunted and his grip on your hand tightened. “It kills me. You say I’m a hero and I can’t even save you.” You finally looked at him again and all you saw in his eyes now was raw anger. “I’ve never been so confused… so helpless in my life. I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know who’s on what side. Was my whole life a lie? Do real heroes even truly exist? Or are we all just pawns in some fucking bigger game?” His voice began to break under his emotion. “I love you y/n. I’m in love with you. I have been for a very long time. Maybe even since we were kids. And I can’t sleep at night because out of everyone in the world you were the one I couldn’t save. I blame myself every day. I tell myself if I had just fucking manned up and told you how I felt sooner then maybe we would have had a chance… and maybe I would have noticed when shit started going sideways.”

There was a flash of vulnerability in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by anger once more. “Now you’re with him and it feels like I’ve completely lost you. Not that I’m complaining. If he’s what you need to heal then… whatever, I’ll just have to get over it. But I need you to know that I’ll always be there for you. No matter what. I don’t care who you’re with, who’s after you, I don’t care! You are and will always be my top priority.” You rubbed reassuring circles into his hand with your thumb. “You say it’s not fair and I get it. It’s not. It’s disgusting. You don’t deserve any of this. For the first time in my life it has me questioning what side I’m on.”

Your entire lives the only things Katsuki seemed to care about was becoming the number one hero and beating Izuku. So, to hear him say that he’s now questioning that broke your heart. “Katsuki, please don’t say that. Even if the hero system is fucked up. That’s doesn’t mean all heroes are too. You’re in it for the right reasons. I have no doubt that if all the hero agencies crumble today, tomorrow you’d be right back on those streets defending the people. You don’t need an official rank to be the number one.”

He let out a huge sigh and you could see the tension leave his shoulders. It was like a huge weight had lifted off of him. He gave you one of his trademark smirks, although it was a little softer than usual. “You always seem to know what to say when I’m falling apart.”

You ran a hand through his spiky blonde hair, “I’d like to think I am an expert Katsuki bomb defuser at this point.” He rolled his eyes, but you could see the slight pink blush dusting his cheeks. “I’ve spent most of my life finding ways to calm you down before you explode, and honestly I wouldn’t trade that time for anything.”

“Oh yeah? Even though half the time it ended in scrapped knees and pulled pigtails?”

“Sometimes it ended in shared ice cream and hand holding.” You giggled, “You used to hold my hand all the damn time when we were little. Dragging me from one place to the next, always so impatient.” You gave him a puzzled look, “But then one day you stopped out of nowhere and told me it was gross.”

“Tsk. You have my shitty mother to thank for that. When my quirk started developing, she told me to stop holding your hand because I might blow you up.” He gave you sly smile, “Technically she was right, but it still scared the shit out of me.”

You both talked and giggled for what felt like hours. The weight of the pervious day slowly floating away. You probably would have stayed that way for much longer if his phone hadn’t gone off interrupting the two of you.

He glared at his screen before grunting. “I’ve been here too long. I need to get going.” He stood from his comfortable spot next to you and stretched. He gave you a long look over from you head to your toes and back. “I promise I’ll try to not obsess over what you and staples do when I’m not around, if you promise to not do anything stupid.”

“You know I can’t promise that. Weren’t you the one who used to say stupid was my middle name?” He gave you an unamused look and crossed his arms over his chest in frustration. You cut him off before he could start on a lecture. “I promise to try to behave and stay out of trouble. There feel better?”

A drawn our sigh left his lips. If his expression was any indicator, your promise did absolutely nothing for his nerves. “I guess it’ll have to be good enough.” He leaned over and kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be back to check on you in a few days, alright?”

You nodded as he reluctantly made his way back towards the house. You watched him leave but decided to stay outside a little longer. It really was nice outside, and you wanted some more time to yourself before Dabi grilled you about your conversation with Katsuki.

---

Bakugo stomped back into the house and wasn’t surprised when he was quickly apprehended by the very man that plagued his thoughts. “Oi, whatever it is you want to say, say it quick. I got to get out of here before they notice I left.”

“I know the two of you have a lot of history… So…” He looked uncomfortable for a brief second. “She just looks happy when you visit… so uh… thanks.”

Bakugo had to blink back his surprise. He had been preparing himself for a fight. “Yeah well… you obviously aren’t doing a bad job either… she seems comfortable around you.”

The two men spent the next few moments awkwardly staring at each other before Bakugo cleared his throat. “Listen. I think it’s obvious I have feeling for her. She knows that now. But at the end of the day I just want her to be happy. Maybe if things had gone differently, we would have ended up together, and maybe one day we still will. But she’s gone through enough shit recently, and if… if you’re what she needs right now… Then I wont get in the way.”

Now it was Dabi’s turn to be surprised. Everything he knew about the great Dynamight was his unwavering need to be the best, to win, to conquer all opponents. So to him conceding really showed not only how much he had matured in recent years but also how serious he took his relationship with you.

“I’ll always be there for her. Like you said she likes it when I come to visit, so I’ll keep coming around.”

To this Dabi groaned, “Coming to visit is one thing, but hanging all over her and kissing her in front of me is another. Keep your sweaty hands to yourself.”

Bakugo barked out a laugh, “I kissed the top of her head calm down. Don’t tell me you’re not up for a little competition?” When Dabi’s only answer was to only narrow his eyes Bakugo smiled. “Just because I’m not going to throw a fit about the two of you… doing whatever it is you’re doing… doesn’t mean I’ve completely given up. If you ever mess up, and let’s be honest you probably will… I’m going to be there for her.”

“I’m actually counting on it.”

Bakugo gave him one last glance before nodding and making his way towards the exit.

--

Dabi joined you outside as the soft breeze kissed his always too warm skin. You kept your eyes closed as you heard his heavy feet approaching. “If you’re grumpy about Katsuki I don’t want to hear about it.”

His large form blocked the sun as he hovered over you. “What would I have to be grumpy about? He’s not the one you were begging to fuck you in the shower this morning.” His rough hands ran over your bare legs. “Put some real clothes on we have some errands to run.”

Your eyes snapped open. “Errands? Like we’re leaving the house? I’m going outside?”

“Well technically you go outside all the time, but yes, you will be leaving the property today. Stretch your legs, get some fresh air and all that good stuff. I don’t know if you noticed but we are really low on groceries and there’s only enough ice cream left for one of us and I don’t like you enough to share… So go change.”

You practically sprinted back to your room. You threw on the one dress you had that had come in one of your care packages from Izuku and Shoto. The only other clothes you had were either T-shirts, pajamas, or belonged to Dabi.

You knew you had a pair of shoes somewhere, but you couldn’t remember where you put them. You hadn’t exactly needed them until now. The longer you looked the more your nerves ate at you.

Were you ready to leave? You were safe here. Did you want to leave your little bubble?

You knew Dabi wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but it was still terrifying.

A soft knock broke you from your thoughts. “What’s taking so long?”

“Sorry, can’t find my shoes.”

To this he nodded, “Oh they’re in the garage.”

“How did they get there?”

He shrugged, “You threw them at me once, so I hid them.”

With a dramatic roll of your eyes you made your way over to him. “What you scared or something?”

His hands gripped your waist and pulled you to him, “Oh a shoe? No. Of you throwing said shoe at me? Of course. I would be stupid not to be afraid of you.”

You smiled proudly, “Damn right. And don’t you forget it.”

He gave your hips a squeeze, “I could get used to seeing you in a dress.” His hand snaked around to you lower back finding your long braid and grinned evilly as he grabbed it and wrapped it around his wrist effectively pulling you head back and baring your neck to him. “Oh and this braid is amazing.” His lips brushed over your bare shoulder, then your neck, your cheek, before finally giving you a quick peck on your lips.

You reached up on your tippy toes to ghost your lips over his. “Remember when I wanted to have sex this morning and your promised if I was still desperate later, you’d fuck me?” A fire lit in his eyes as he silently nodded. “You leaned even closer but still kept your lips from fully connecting with his. “Karma’s a bitch.”

“UGH!” His hands left you as he did what you could only assume was his version of pouting. “You fucking brat…Let’s go. The sooner we go, the sooner we can come back and lock ourselves in our room.”

Our room? It was the first time he had said that. You weren’t sure which room he was referring to, but either way, you kind of liked the way it sounded.

You held your hand out to him, “Oh come on now. Don’t be like that. You can hold my hand.”

He glared at you then your hand and then back to you. “No thanks. They probably are still covered in nitroglycerin from your little friend and I’d hate to accidentally look control of my quirk and blow us up.”

You balled up the hand you had offered to him and punched his shoulder, “Who’s the brat now?”

He led you to the garage in silence, noticing the way your shoulders tensed the closer you got. Right before you reached the door, he stopped you. “I know this is probably just as scary as it is exciting so just need you to remember a couple things, okay? One.” He placed his hands on your shoulders and looked you straight in the eye. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. I think we both know I’m not above cremating someone’s fingers off if they even so much as look at you the wrong way. Two. You are way stronger than you feel right now. You may have been through hell, but you came out stronger than you went in.”

His eyes suddenly got very serious. “And most importantly three. Despite number one and two, I need you to be careful and stay close to me. I can’t help you if I can’t get to you, and just because you can take care of yourself doesn’t mean you should have to. It’s just a quick run to a grocery store and back. No reason to get into any trouble.”

You nodded enthusiastically, your excitement starting to overpower your nerves. He looked you up and down and smirked. His fingers came up to pinch your nipple through your dress which had you immediately moaning and pressing closer to him. “I’ll tell you what…one thing we will not being buying today is a bra.” Your teeth pressed into your bottom lip as you held back a whine of pleasure. He gave your nipple one last tug before letting go and backing away. “I love the easy access.”

You took a steadying breath before following him into the garage. You opened the door to the familiar car. The last time you had been in this car, you had been mute, malnourished, and Dabi was digging into you with his knife. You stared at the passenger seat for a moment too long.

“I promise not to stab you again, now hurry up and get in.” You took another moment to appreciate how far you’ve come since the last time you were in this car.

The second your ass was in the seat, Dabi was buckling your seat belt and pulling a hat over your head. “Here put these on too.” He handed you a pair or sunglasses. “We’re going out in disguise.” He smirked, “Well you are, there’s really no way for me to hide this handsome mug.”

“I don’t know. you have white hair now. Match that with some glasses and a bag over your head, and I don’t think anyone would recognize you.”

He reached over you and pulled a pair of sunglasses and a medical mask out of his glove box. “Hmm fresh out of bags. Maybe we should pick some up for later.” He wagged his eyebrows at you.

The wind blew through the open windows as the music surrounded you. For a moment it was easy to close your eyes and pretend this was just a normal day. The past few years didn’t happen, and you were just headed to the store on your day off. You hummed along with the song and even dared to sing a few words.

Dabi suddenly found it hard to concentrate with you singing next to him. He could feel your hum vibrate in his bones. Your words filled his lungs with air while simultaneously making it harder to breath. He’d like to think this was part of your quirk. But something told him it was something else entirely.

Before he could stop himself, his hand found it’s way to your thigh. He had no other intention than just touching you. He just wanted to feel you, feel your skin on his. Your presence filled the car and his hands itched to connect with you in any way they could.

His thumb rubbed absentminded circles as he found himself being hypnotized by your existence. The spell only broken when he pulled into a parking spot. Now reality was crashing back in. He suddenly had the need to rush you back home and lock you away. This world was awful. It didn’t deserve you. “Sorry… Sometimes my singing does that. I didn’t realize I was doing it.” Your hand ran through his hair as if the friction would reboot his thoughts. You could see the confused desire in his eyes start to fade. “I can’t explain it, but just like how my voice can hypnotize, sometimes when I sing it amplifies whatever it is you want in the moment.” You shrugged, “It so rarely happens that I don’t really know what triggers it.”

With a final blink of his eyes his thoughts seemed to clear. The overwhelming desire ebbed but didn’t disappear completely. He was quick to grab your hand as soon as you had both exited the car. “Oh? And what happened to there being too much nitroglycerin on my hands?”

“Shut up.” He yanked your arm rather aggressively as he stormed off into the store.

You weren’t prepared for how ridiculous you would feel. You wish you could take a picture to send to the yourself a few years ago. Here you were with a white haired, former villain Dabi, who had a grocery basket in one hand and your hand in the other. Both of looking totally inconspicuous as the florescent lights reflected off of your sunglasses that he insisted needed to stay on. The borderline elevator music that played in over the speakers just daring you to giggle.

With half of your shopping done you came to the realization that you had been freaking out over nothing. It wasn’t like there was someone hiding behind every corner waiting to drag you back to the lab. Just because it seemed like the world was out to get you didn’t actually mean the world was out to get you.

You were starting to let your guard down just a little bit. You let go of Dabi’s hand for all of ten seconds, which apparently was enough for a lecture. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Your hand hovered over a box of cereal, “Uh… I’m sorry do you not like Lucky Charms? Are you more of a Cinnamon Toast Crunch kinda guy?”

He snagged a box off the shelf before grabbing your hand again. “For my sanity… please don’t let go of my hand.”

“Oh come on I was all of two feet away. What’s going to happen in two feet.”

He lowered his sunglasses so you could see how serious he was. “If we lived in a world where everyone was quirkless… not a lot. But here in this world, where people can do bat shit crazy things… Super speed, portals, explosions, flight, laser beams, do you need me to keep going.”

“Okay I get it. I’m sorry.”

His grip on your hand tightened as he pulled you down the next isle. He was making it really hard to act normal when he insisted on treating you like a child. You gave his hand a tug to get his attention. “Hey look at me.” He hesitated momentarily before turning to look at you and pulling you both to a stop. By the way he was looking at you he knew you were upset, but he looked like the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. “I get that you’re on edge, but I’m not a child. You gave me this huge speech before we left the house, but now you’re the one freaking out.” You gave him a quick hug. “Out of respect for your paranoia, I promise to stay within arm’s reach. But remember I’m not helpless.”

His shoulders slumped, but he nodded anyways. “Yeah my bad. I think I just underestimated how uncomfortable I’d be.” His shoulder bumped yours. “But until we get back home…I’m going to keep being an overprotective asshole, and you have no choice but to deal with it.” He started his dragging you down isles again. “You may not be a child, but if you pull away from me again, I will literally find a collar and a leash and make you my pet for the day.”

“You’re joking right… right?” He had to be joking. There’s no way he’d follow through with that… right? Part of you knew he honestly would and he’d probably fucking love it.

“Why don’t you keep fucking around and find out?” He smirked which made it even harder to figure out if he was serious or not.

You decided you weren’t going to test him. Not today. Hopefully there would be more trips in your future, and maybe he’d ease up by then. Today he seemed stressed enough to actually snap and follow through with his threat.

He continued to hold the basket for you while he let you reach out and grab whatever you wanted. He wasn’t even really paying attention to the items you were putting in the basket, as his head remained on a swivel, looking for anything suspicious. If he had, he would have noticed it was predominantly junk food. That’s fine. You could stand to gain a few more pounds. He’d make sure to sneak some healthy stuff in there at some point.

You were making your way to check out when he heard a familiar voice calling out to him.

“Dabi? Hey man is that you?” He instinctively placed you behind him as he turned to face his old colleague. “Holy shit it is you! I wasn’t sure because your hair it totally different, but those staples are a dead giveaway. What’s up man? Haven’t seen you in years! What have you been up to?”

You clung to the back of his shirt and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. “I’m doing my own thing now.” His voice was much lower than usual and it sent chills down your spine.

When the mystery man caught on that he wasn’t going to get any more out of him he pressed, “I heard there’s a couple of the guys who’ve been trying to get ahold of you recently. They need help with something. The money’s supposed to be pretty good.”

The man’s eyes shifted to try and get a look at you behind Dabi, but Dabi just shifted to shield you from view. “Not interested. I have enough money.” The man was starting to give him a weird look and it was pissing Dabi off. “Do you have a problem?”

“No, but obviously you do. What crawled up your ass and died? And who’s your new little friend?” He craned his neck to try get a peek at you. “As long as I’ve known you, I never knew you to be the domestic type. She the reason you’ve fallen off the grid?”

Dabi’s hand started to glow with flames. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll mind your fucking business.”

“Oh shit. She must be something special to get the big bad Dabi playing guard dog.” He lifted his hands up in surrender, “But don’t worry about it, man. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Dabi kept his eyes on him until he was out of sight and quickly turned back to the check-out line, “We need to hurry and get the hell out of here. That guy works for the League as a hitman. It’s possible we didn’t see him by accident.” He ushered you through the line and quickly paid for the few groceries you had and was practically sprinting towards the exit.

You made it back to the car and you let go of his hand to quickly make you way around to the passenger side. You had your hand on the door handle when your instincts started screaming. Your eyes cut to the store and then back to Dabi. “I think someone’s i-“

A hand slammed on top of your mouth as you were pulled backwards and in a whirl of wind and disorienting speed you ended up on the other end of the parking and moments later you saw blue fames spurting off in all directions where you had been standing earlier.

“What a temper that guy has.”

You looked up and saw the man from the store. His quirk must have been super speed and you knew you’d never hear the end of this from Dabi.

His hand gripped your chin, “What’s so special about you huh? What could you possibly have that would domesticate that beast of a man?” He pushed you to your knees in front of him.

Your panic was setting in. All the years of training, all the hard work you put in, and the only thing you could think of was running away. You bottom lip trembled. “I’m quirkless… I’m his… his pet.” You hoped you could find a way to stall for time. You had faith Dabi could handle whoever he was currently fighting and then he’d come for you. You just needed to make sure this guy didn’t run off with you again.

The man laughed loudly, “I have to admit I always thought he was a bit of a freak. But having a quirkless little play thing isn’t what I was expecting.” He turned your head to one side and then the other getting a good look at you. “You sure are fucking pretty though… I guess I can see the appeal. Maybe I’ll take you with me.”

Your fight or flight was kicking in, and you knew for a fact there was no outrunning this man. You activated your quirk and locked eyes with him. This was the first time you had used your quirk offensively in a long time. But it was like riding a bike. First you used your voice. “You don’t want to do that. No, you’re a good boy. You want to let me go.”

You watched as his eyes glassed over briefly before he shook his head. “What the fuck! Get out of my head! Quirkless my ass!” His hand left your chin and back handed you. Your head hit a cement parking divider. So maybe it wasn’t like riding a bike.

You needed to focus. No half assing this. Growing up you had learned that your quirk was like a battery. You could either go at full strength for a short period of time or lower strength for a longer period of time. You just needed to up the strength. “I SAID!”

He sprinted away before you could finish talking. You looked around frantically to see where he went but before you could find him he was sprinting by you and kicking you as he passed. His strategy was smart. You wouldn’t be able to get him if he kept moving. He continued his game of sprinting by you and kicking you or hitting you until you were a bloody mess on the ground. Where the fuck was Dabi?

You were pissed. You had had definitely been through worse. You spit out some blood from your split lip. “You hit like a fucking bitch!” You smeared blood and saliva all over your hands and waited. “Fucking fight me you pussy!”

You listened closely for the familiar sound of him approaching. Right before he got to you you rolled over and grabbed his leg as he attempted to kick you. You tackled him to the ground and shoved your hand in his face smearing your blood all over his face, forcing your blood and spit into his mouth.

He sputtered before shoving you off of him and spitting on you. “What the fuck? You’re fucking disgusting!” He tried to stand up to get away from you, but your quirk was starting to work on him. You blood was slowly paralyzing him. You watched as his eyes started to harden inn fear.

“Great keep those open for me.” You locked eyes with him again. “What did you want with Dabi?”

You watched his thoughts as he showed you instructions from Shigaraki. He was supposed to locate Dabi and ask him what his connection was to the people who worked for your hero agency. Apparently, word had gotten out that he had been hunting people and The League wanted to know why.

You heard footsteps rapidly approaching you. You swung around as fast as you throbbing head would let you. Relief flooded over your entire body when you saw it was Dabi. He skidded to a stop when he saw the state you were in. He looked between you and the now paralyzed man on the ground. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

The man managed a creepy chuckle. “She must be that siren hero everyone’s looking for huh?” You were impressed he could still talk at this point, but it was obvious the rest of his body was frozen. “They said she was dangerous…she didn’t feel that dangerous when my foot was connecting with her face.”

Dabi let out a feral growl and he stalked over to him hands out ready to burn him to ashes.

“Dabi NO!” You coughed as you grabbed your ribs. “Stop… he can’t move. We can just call Katsuki, he’ll come pick him up.”

Dabi turned to look at you, his eyes practically glowing. “No fucking way. He’s seen you, he knows too much.” The flames in his hands got hotter. “Just look at what he fucking did to you! He’s not leaving here alive. So either you let me burn him and scatter the evidence or you take this fucking knife I have in my pocket and kill him yourself. Either way this asshole dies now. I told him to mind his own fucking business… he signed his own death sentence.”

You stood up and squared off with him. “I said no… We don’t have to kill him. We can just turn him in!”

“YOU CANT BE THAT STUPID!” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair leaving black streak of soot in their wake in his white hair. “We turn him in, he gets arrested. The people who are looking for you… the ‘heroes’ will integrate him and find out your with me. Then it’ll only be a matter of time before we’re on the run.” He reached in his pocket and held out a knife to you, “He dies now. End of discussion. What’ll it be.”

You looked at the knife in his hand before crossing your arms over your chest and averting your eyes.

“That’s what I thought.”

You didn’t watch as he incinerated the man who was helpless to stop it, but you could smell the burning flesh and you could hear the brief scream of agony before it was gone.

Dabi waited until his hands had cooled down before he bent over and scooped you up. “It had to be done.” The car was still running with the driver door open from where he had driven over here and hopped out. He tucked you into the font seat and took a look into the back seat, “Fuck… the ice cream is melting.”

Your eyes bulged at him as he gunned it towards the main road, “You just murdered someone with no sympathy, but heaven forbid the ice cream melts!”

“Actually, I just murdered two people. And I would do it again without hesitation. I was looking forward to that ice cream!”

********

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