#immediately put the car in reverse

[rosymiel]

scratch that about getting a job, i rescinded my acceptance of the job offer because it wasn’t enough hours. now two days later i just secured an interview with something relevant to my field, is full time, and pays $10 more an hour

[111111111yeah]

I love tucking the groceries into bed before the drive home. Goodnight banana. Goodnight smoked salmon.

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in it, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[bi-writes]

I can imagine asking Ghost to take my daughter to the daddy-daughter ball, only not to be able to get rid of him once he brings her home.

"you what?"

you rest your forehead against your locker door, closing your eyes as you tune out the nonchalant voice on the other end of the phone.

he always cancels.

but this?

"y-you can't cancel," you say finally. "you have to go. you can't do this to her, are you fucking kidding me?" you put a hand to your forehead. "you're a fucking asshole. i-i bought her a dress. it's for fathers and daughters, i can't fucking take her. it's all she's been talking about, i can't believe you--!"

you kick your locker shut and take a seat, resting your elbows on your knees. he gives you another excuse, but you just blink away your angry tears.

"no. don't bother. in fact, i don't want to see you again. i don't want her to see you again."

you put the phone down, your hands trembling from how angry you are. you aren't even surprised that he's not calling you back.

he's never wanted her. never.

"sergeant."

the firm sound of your title immediately has you on your feet. you stand up straight, but you relax a little when you see it's just ghost. his head is tilted to the side, and he's watching you carefully from under his mask. you can't see his expression, but his eyes are intense. he's focused on you, very much so.

you wipe the few tears that are under your eyes, and then your phone pinging takes your attention away from him. you pick it up and curse under your breath, opening your locker again to grab your things.

"i'm sorry, lieutenant, i need to go. can i get back to you tomorrow?"

"it's pick-up time, isn't it?"

you freeze from putting your jacket on, eyeing him warily before zipping it up.

"yeah," you say finally. "and i have some bad news to deliver, so while i'd love to stay and chat, i really need to go."

"doesn't hafta be her father," simon shrugs, leaning up against the locker beside yours. "could be anyone."

you glare at him a little, "if you're trying to make some kind of crude joke about the lack of men in our lives, lieutenant, i'd be careful if i were you--"

you stop when he grips your chin tight between his gloved fingers. you blink, unsure of what to do, and he shakes your jaw a little.

"i could take 'er."

you frown up at him, too annoyed to notice how he bends a little more, his face nearly against yours.

"it's not funny, lieutenant."

"not laughin'."

"you..." you meet his eyes, deflating a little. "you...you'd...you'd do that for me?"

ghost merely clicks his tongue before letting you go. when you make your way to your car, he follows, and you try to hide your smile as you make your way home.

ghost exchanges his mask for something more discreet when you aren't looking. a black n95, but his eyes still kill the same. when you come back to the car with a little girl on your hip, she stares wide-eyed at the hunk of man sitting in the passenger seat. he raises a brow at her, saying nothing, and you swallow hard as you buckle her into her seat.

"uhm...this is ghost. can you say hi, honey?"

"ghost? like halloween?"

"like halloween, baby."

as you buckle yourself back in the drivers' seat, you side-eye ghost when you hear the crinkle of a plastic wrapper. when you peek into the rearview to reverse out of the parking lot, you see your daughter with a big smile on her face and a red lolly stuck in her mouth.

"always carrying around sweets, lieutenant?"

he shrugs. "maybe."

she makes him wait in the living room while you get her dress on (she wants a big reveal, coming down the stairs and all). you bought it off of etsy, a custom-made, princess-inspired dress. it has a big skirt of silk and tulle, with a big bow at her back, and when you look at her smile in the mirror, you feel that searing slice of something that makes you want to kill the man that almost ruined her evening.

she gets to do her big reveal. she spins at the top of the stairs to make her big skirt move, and then she's running down the stairs, giggling, laughing, and just as she makes it to ghost, he grabs her under her arms and tosses her into the air. she shrieks with delight when her big dress moves, and you bite your lip watching them. the sight of ghost hiking her up on his hip and commenting on her bow makes your mouth water.

fuck. have his arms always been that big?

they look funny. your daughter looks like the prettiest princess, and ghost looks exactly as he always does--like a SAS lieutenant. he might not have any of his gear on, but the cargo pants, thick boots, and windbreaker don't hide his physique.

"have fun, baby."

you come up next to her, kissing her face, and she clings to your superior, arms tangled around his neck as she waves goodbye. you give ghost the keys to your car, tell him to bring her back by seven, and then you pamper yourself while she's gone.

you drink a few glasses of wine. you take a hot bath. you pick a movie to watch and don't have to make sure the rating is at least PG.

when ghost finally comes back, you're laying on the couch with another glass of wine. pajamas on, blanket over your lap, and you smile when you see her passed out in ghost's arms as he closes the front door behind himself.

"asleep? already?" you giggle. ghost sets your keys down by the door before taking his boots off, and you watch intently as he carries your daughter up the stairs to put her to bed. you follow him, grabbing some of her pajamas from the drawer as he lays her down on the bed. you work together to get her little shoes off and shimmy her out of the dress, and as you get her into her clothes and back under the covers, she barely even moves. she's so tired, yawning and snuggling under her blankets, and you shut the door behind you, leaning against it as you blink up at your lieutenant.

he stares right back down at you. you reach a hand up and trace along the edge of his mask. it's quiet. inappropriate. he won't move away from you, and you won't move either.

you could get used to this. you could get used to watching more adult movies, drinking more wine, having time to fixed your chipped nail polish. you could get used to being bent over your unmade bed and fucked nasty.

you grab onto the crumpled sheets, arching your back more. your knees dig into the mattress as your ass hikes up, and ghost grunts as he uses your hips as an anchor and fucks into you harder. it's been ages since anyone's found your sweet spot, and ghost's cock is nudging it every single time his hips come back to meet yours. his thighs are nearly as fat as his cock, and you feel like your entire body is being rewired as he gives it to you so good, inside and out.

thumb against your clit, balls smacking your pussy, cock splitting you open--you used to think sex was made only for men, but maybe you just never found a real one to show you just how toe-curling it really could be.

if you thought it was good on your tummy, ghost shows you an entirely different feeling on your back.

it's so intimate. no one has ever looked at you this way before. his hands are intertwined with yours, and all you can do is cry and squeeze his hands as he sinks all the way inside of you and barely moves apart. in the dark, he takes his mask off, and you can feel the pant of his hot breaths as he grinds into you deep, slow, purposefully. the stimulation on your clit has your thighs shaking, and when you think the tears are too much, ghost flattens his tongue to lick them off before kissing you wet and languid.

ghost barely pulls out. he just circles his hips, punching back into you, and you see spots behind your eyes when he finally opens his mouth and groans into your ear. something about hearing his voice, hearing him falter, it makes you come. as soon as your cunt squeezes, ghost chokes, gripping your jaw tight and coming deep. you squirm underneath him, arching your back--he fills you up, so much so you can feel it spurting out around his cock and spilling out between your thighs.

you're too tired to protest when he sinks between your thighs after--you have to get clean somehow, right?

when you come into the kitchen in the morning, ghost is at the stove, your daughter on his hip and an egg frying in the pan.

he doesn't leave you when you take him back to work; and he doesn't leave you when you go back home. you should've known better, maybe. it's your own fault. ghosts like to haunt.

and this one is home.

[clioerato]

Reverse of this post.

AU Unrealistic 90s, sorry

Eddie is like: "Well, Steve is just a really loyal ally. Really… physically loyal. And caring. I guess that's just the level of friendship a popular dude has." And Steve is genuinely convinced that they've been together for a long time and that Eddie knows.

1986:

They start hanging out. Then they hang out every day. Then they live at Steve's for a week straight.

Steve: “You can leave your stuff here, you know. Closet’s half empty.” Eddie: “Damn, you really are the most considerate straight dude I know.” Steve: “…Huh?”

1986:

They regularly sleep in the same bed. Sometimes they hold hands. Sometimes they kiss. Sometimes they kiss for a long time. Sometimes for a very long time.

Eddie (after kissing): “This is crazy. I mean, I get it, experimenting and all…” Steve: “What?” Eddie: “Nothing. I’m cool. You’re cool. We’re cool.” Steve (искренне): “Yeah. We’re the best couple I know.” Eddie: “…Couple of what, though?” Steve: “What?”

1987:

Steve gives Eddie a silver ring on a leather cord. Eddie wears it, even in the shower.

Eddie: “This is, like, a friendship ring, right?” Steve: “That’s literally a promise ring.” Eddie: “…A promise of what?” Steve: “Of us, Eddie. What the hell else would I mean?” Eddie: “Right. Us. Bros. Tight.”

1987:

Eddie: “You take care of me like we’re married.” Steve (smiling): “We might someday.” Eddie: “We might… legally non-binding kind of way.” Steve: “Eddie. We file taxes together.” Eddie: “You’re just very organized!”

1988:

Robin: “How’s your boyfriend?” Eddie: “Boyfriend? Who?” Robin: “Steve. Your literal partner in life. Your domestic co-op. The man whose shampoo you steal.” Eddie: “Steve’s not my boyfriend. We’re just… you know… post-labels.” Robin: “Eddie. You live together, you kiss. He holds your hand. He told me you're his boyfriend.” Eddie: “…He what?”

1988: Eddie: “Steve. Real question. Are we… dating?” Steve: “You’re joking, right?” Eddie: “Sorry! I didn't mean to! Maybe I misunderstood. I… I'm sorry, did I ruin everything between us?” Steve: “Eddie. We have a dog. We hosted Thanksgiving. We kiss. We have sex. You made me a Mixtape titled ‘songs that remind me of us’.” Eddie: “I thought you just needed a roommate with benefits and deep emotional intimacy?” Steve: “That’s literally a relationship.” Eddie: “…Holy shit. We’re boyfriends?” Steve: “We’ve been boyfriends for years, Munson.” Eddie: “Huh. Go figure. Guess I’m dating King Steve.” Steve: “You’re lucky I love you.”

Now that Eddie’s caught up emotionally, he’s 110% in. Possibly too in.

Eddie: “So... should we elope? Vegas? Matching rings? I’m thinking silver, with little bats engraved—” Steve (choking on his cereal): “Wait. What? Now you want to get married?” Eddie: “Well, yeah! We’re already basically married, babe.” Steve: “Don’t ‘babe’ me while talking about bat rings and eloping.” Eddie (grinning): “Too late, husband.”

*** Eddie: “So I saw this house. Big porch. Weird attic. Ghost potential’s high, but I think we can make it work.” Steve: “...Are you asking if I want to buy a house with you?” Eddie: “Well, yeah. We live together. We share a car. We kiss. A lot. I have a drawer full of your socks. I think it’s time we haunt a place jointly.” Steve: “This is how you propose real estate to me?” Eddie: “You should be grateful. The realtor loved my ‘gothic charm.’” Steve: (sighs) “We’re gonna need a mortgage... and a sage bundle.” Eddie: “You love it.” Steve: “I do.”

Grocery store, middle of the cereal aisle:

Cashier: “You want to sign up for the store discount card?” Eddie: “Yeah—uh, do I have to put my husband’s name too, or just mine?” Steve (pauses, then stares): Cashier: “...Congratulations?” Steve: tearing up immediately, holding a box of Cheerios like it’s a wedding bouquet Eddie (realizing): “Wait, you’re crying??” Steve: “You said—you said husband! In public!” Eddie: “I also said ‘Cheerios,’ are we crying about those too?” Steve: “Shut up.” Eddie (gently): “I meant it.” Steve: “I know. That’s why I’m crying.”

Later that night, in their definitely haunted new house: Eddie (quietly, as they’re brushing their teeth): “You know I really do want to marry you, right?” Steve (mouth full of toothpaste): “Mhm.” Eddie: “Not just for grocery discounts.” Steve (spitting): “I love you.” Eddie: “I love you too, husband.”

[hexlenx]

EVEN IN OTHER UNIVERSES, I LOVE YOU. — aaron taylor-johnson

In which you came home tired from work and only just wanted to lay down on your shared-bed with your husband. Only to see five different version of said husband.

note: hello! So I have come to write another one shot or fic or whatever you call it because I couldn't help myself but write this new idea I thought of. I do hope you enjoy!

warnings!: none because we fluffy today pookie.

__________________

Sighing tiredly you let out a groan as you took a small break in your car, resting your head on the steering wheel as you closed your eyes for a few moments.

You just finished your work from helping your director write the script for the next movie you're starring. You see, you've been an actress in the industry for a long time now and even though it's tiring you continue to work through it as it is your passion. Plus, it's where you met your lovable and handsome husband. A fellow well-known actor in the industry.

The director asked for your help because you had experience in directing as well as a degree for it. So hence why you also came home late while your husband went ahead after a bit of your persuasion. Thinking of your husband, you smiled fondly. How can you be so lucky to have such a man?

While you were taking a small break from your car, said husband was sweating profusely in the kitchen with a spatula in hand while wearing a pink apron.

Looking at the five males in front of him, Aaron cursed underneath his breath.

"Fuck me."

The gate opened automatically after scanning your car's number plate. Before driving in reverse towards the garage door. Humming a soft tune you put the car on park and grabbed everything you need from the car before coming out of it.

Opening the door connected to the kitchen, you took off your shoes and hanged your coat on the hanger before calling out to your husband with a bright smile.

"Honey, I'm home!" Your smile slowly turned into worry as you were greeted by nothing. Usually you were greeted by a beaming charming smile as well as a giant hug lifting you off from your feet while being spun around by your husband.

Where could he be?

"Aaron? You there?" In slight worry you walked around the first floor of the house searching for your husband, but alas there was no sign so you moved upstairs.

There was a thump in one of the rooms when you were in the middle of walking on the stairs making you feel worry and fear when you heard a voice groaning as well as cursing. Your mind was running in a fast pace as you run up from the stairs towards the source of those noises.

No it can't be, please tell me he didn't—

The scene in front of you shocked you. The noises stopped as the figures looked at you in silence.

"Love, I can explain—" Aaron was the first to break the silence with his hands up as if he was trying not to anger you. And let me tell you, you do not want an angry wife at you.

However, instead of an angry wife. You looked like you were about to cry. You see, another thing about you is that you are quite an open and very sensitive person. Your legs gave up as you collapsed on the floor, tears running down your face as your exhaustion mixed with your anxiety was not a good combination right now.

"I—i thought you were with a w-woman—" you stuttered as your husband immediately went over you to put you in his embrace the moment your knees buckled whispering praises as well as reassurance to you. Desperately trying to calm you down. He knew you were very tired since it's about ten in the evening by now and he supposes that the noises he and the others made, made you think of something else.

His heart broke just by thinking he was doing things to another woman other than you, he cannot and will never do such a thing to you. He loves you too much to do so.

The five other male in the room looked at the scene in front of them, disbelief clear in their faces as they looked at your figure. Hearts beating uncontrollably as the younger looking male in the room muttered a name.

Your name.

This made all of you to snap your heads up to the male. Now that you look at it, they all looked just like your husband. No, actually all of them are your husband. No one can impersonate your husband unless it's your husband himself, his face is too unique to be able to copy.

"Why are there five more of you?"

Now that the situation has calmed down, you, your husband and five more of him sat in the living room in silence. Assessing the situation.

"So you're telling me that you, Dave was getting beaten up almost to death before coming here? James, you got here when you were stuck by Voldemort. Alexei, got here when you fell from your horse at full speed, head first. Tangerine, you got here after getting shot on the neck trying to kill the White Death's child and Pietro, you got shot multiple times by saving Clint from dying? Have I summarized it correctly?" You summarized outloud as the others nodded to confirm your statement. You sighed as both you and your husband looked at each other, not knowing what to do since unlike some of their worlds, you guys don't have the power to bring them back to theirs. But they all don't seem like they're hurt from their explanations. Maybe it's cuz they're in a different world.

"What were you doing before I barged in the room?" You asked your husband who looked everywhere but you.

"I was trying to give them some clothes, Dave, Pietro and James was the only one who accepted it but the other two wanted something that fit their styles." Aaron sighed as he took a sip at the coffee he made since it was getting late. He really thinks that you should rest first and let him handle it though.

"Sorry gentlemen, but it's quite late in the evening and I would like to take a nap and rest. We will take care of this tomorrow." You sent them a tired smile as you stood up from your seat and towards your bedroom upstairs, leaving all six of them in the room.

As soon as you were out of hearing range, Aaron's expression turned cold as he looked at Dave. Even if he knew the kid wouldn't hurt his wife because he played his character years ago, he will still not let loose his guard. Dave flinched from the glare and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly while the others stared at him the same way as Aaron, that's weird.

"How do you know my wife?"

This made the men's eyes go wide. Wife? That made them collectively let out a sigh of relief. Wife..

"She's also your wife?" James asked Aaron, it's kind of weird talking to yourself as he looked at the older one in wonder.

"also?" Aaron questioned.

"Yea, I mean. In my universe I married her and had Harry after we got married at twenty-one." James enthusiastically explained as his face brightened up when talking about his lover.

"Uh.. she's my girlfriend in my universe too." Dave lifted up his hand awkwardly. Though you can see that he is also happy to announce that you are his lover.

"I'm also her lover when I have escaped Hydra with my twin sister." Pietro said with a charming smile, his face brightening up whenever he mentioned his wife.

"I'm married to'er in my universe. Doll, was the only one who accepted me other than my brother." Tangerine uttered out as he lit up a cigarette before puffing it out the smoke from his mouth, where he got that from? I don't know and neither does the others.

"...she is my affair, my lover that I intend to protect with all of my soul. The only maiden who saw me for me and not some viscount." Alexei said as his eyes were clouded with the memories of his lover. Ah, how he longed to be in her arms again.

"All of us are her lovers in another universe, huh?" Aaron sighed out, his smile coming out as he thought that even in different versions of himself, he chooses you and is still with you. It makes him sigh in content and happiness as he is assured that no matter what happens, he is still with you in the end.

"Even in every other universes, I love you." All men uttered out, the atmosphere becoming serene as they sat in a few moments of silence.

Warmth filled their chests as the leaned back in their seats as their thoughts only circled in one subject.

You.

[nothanksofficer]

we are all sinners (imagine)

starring: you, remmick, and bo pairing: remmick/reader & bo/reader warnings: slight nsfw, open-at-your-own-risk, dark romance, vampirism, corruption, moral and literal seduction, temptation, sharing is caring(?), reverse harem(ish), hive-mind, manipulation summary: in this world, there is no grace chow. only y/n chow. and boy, does that have consequences word count: 1k+ oneshot ver: 1.0

"because i know everything he knows now. and i want you to let us in there."

"Oh yeah, i know everything now. Even how you like to be licked. I can promise I won't bite too hard."

a/n: pls be kind. this was just a random idea. note that most of the lines are just what i vaguely remember/can find on the original script. for the most part, reader's race is up to your interpretation. bolded lines can be interpreted into any language you want

you are a budding artist who made a name for herself after becoming the town's unofficial sign maker/painter. colors were your art, and its not just how you earned your keep, but it's also how you met bo.

you and bo have been married for almost two years now (sorry lisa don't exist here...yet).

so when smoke comes in one day, asking for some supplies, help, and a new sign in need of painting, that's where you come in

you don't know the twins personally, but you trust bo. and the extra money doesn't hurt for your...future family planning

at the juke club, you and bo are a seamless team, alternating between working and partying. every time you walk by, he's always trying to pull you into his arms. Whether it's for a quick kiss or dance, he never passes on the chance

you briefly overhear the commotion at the door, followed by some singing. after getting a quick peek at the white folk, your eyes meet the banjo player's, who then gives you a wink as bo leads you away. neither of you notice remmick's eyes following you as he does

Remmick first motions at Mary. "How'd she get in?" "She here because she's family." Unconvinced, Remmick makes a show of looking at you and Bo next. "And those two?" This time, it's Smoke who answers. "They're family, too."

later on, when bo comes running over to tell you stack's been killed, you immediately want to leave. you get a really bad feeling and your gut tells you that you can't stay here. after some desperate convincing, bo agrees to get the car

"You wait right here, baby. I'll be right back before you know it," he promises, giving your forehead a kiss. Little do you know, that is the last time you will see your husband. At least the human version of him.

cornbread happens. and stack comes back to life. the entire group has to stop you from leaving to go find bo

"Let me go! I need to go after Bo!" "Careful now. You walk out there, Y/N, you might not walk back in." "I can't just sit here and do nothing! My husband is outside with those—those things!" But Smoke puts his foot down, stopping your argument in its tracks. "Bo can handle himself, Y/N. Besides, you know he wouldn't want to put you at risk either. Bo'd want you here. Inside. Where it's safe."

the group finds the 'dead' body. when sammie and smoke go to throw it outside, remmick's singing and the cheering of former friends and guests, lure you to the entrance, just enough to take a peek. (to your relief, you don't see bo anywhere near them)

after the garlic eating scene, you are left on watch duty at the main entrance. everyone else is resting, or preparing more weapons in the back. you hear gurgling form outside, and out of curiosity, you open the door, only to see cornbread tearing into the 'not-dead' body outside.

you nearly scream to warn the others. that is, until bo appears.

your first instinct is to pull him inside into safety. but...the way he swaggers past cornbread, smiling at you like nothing was wrong, made your heart stop (and not in a good way)

"Hey, baby," he grins, and for a moment, you can almost believe it's actually your husband. Keyword being, almost. "Come on outside. I got the car started for you. Let's go!" "Bo...?" The sound of flesh tearing and squelching makes you nauseous, and you take a step back. Bo frowns, but masks it with a charming smile. "What is it, Y/N?" "Cornbread...he's killing him—" "Oh, don't worry about him, baby. He's just a little hungry, is all," he says offhandedly. "Let's go." Bo winks at you, and you flinch. He's never winked like that at you before. The only one who ever has was— "Come on. I got the car all warmed up." But when you don't make a move to follow, he sighs before sauntering up to the door with a knowing look on his face. "Or...you let me back in there, and we can grab our things and head home?" Bo's eyes flash an inhuman silver as he looms over you from the doorframe. "We can even make a pit stop. Maybe even have some of our own fun on the way back."

when Remmick appears, you nearly sob, realizing this isn't your husband anymore

Still, Bo tries to convince you, nonetheless. "It's better this way, baby. So why don't you go and invite us in?" "You should listen to him, Y/N. Or listen to me. Because I know everything he knows now. And trust me, darling, he really wants you to let us in there," Remmick adds. "That's not true. Bo would never..." "Believe me, baby. I just want you to be free. Like him. Like me," Bo says almost reverently. Lovingly. As if the prospect of becoming one of them was a blessing, rather than a curse. "We can be together again. All you have to do is...Let. Us. In." "Listen to your husband now, darling. Can't you see that he—that we—just want what's best for you?" Despite Remmick's words, you can't tear your eyes away from Bo. "You're not...you're not my husband." Despite the cloudy glow in Bo's eyes, there is no hiding the hurt in them. Remmick, however, only looks at you with condescending disappointment. "Well, that's not very nice of you to say," he tsks. "You did this to him. You...you monster," you hiss. "Me? I just gave him what he wanted. Freedom. A family. In fact, this was his idea, you know. He wanted to change you first," Remmick reveals with a hungry grin. "And who am I to deny him?" "You're lying." "Am I? I know everything he knows. Every little thought. Every single memory. I even know how you like to be licked, darling." Remmick's words shake you. But it's Bo's follow-up that makes you choke. "And we promise we won't bite, baby. Not unless you want it."

a/n: and that's all i have for now. let me know if this is worth continuing. otherwise hope u enjoyed the story

[fireinmoonshot]

protective | joaquín torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: When you get involved in a car accident on your way home from work, Joaquín rushes to the hospital to be by your side. Warnings: Mentions of a car accident and blood, reader has a concussion and broken bones and gets dizzy at some points, Joaquín mentions wanting to kill someone. Word Count: 1.7k A/N: I love the idea of protective Joaquín so thank you so much to the anon that sent in the request asking for it! I instantly thought that this scenario would be fun to write and I really did enjoy it so I hope you will all enjoy reading it too! 💗

Joaquin stifles a yawn as he sits down on the couch and picks up the remote to try and find something to watch. You’re due home from work any minute now and even though he’s exhausted from his own work, he always likes to stay up to see you when you get home.

He’s flicking through the TV channels when his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. He smiles to himself, assuming it’s you calling to ask him something, and pulls it out of his pocket. His smile drops as he sees that the phone call isn’t from you but from a No Caller ID number. Frowning, he answers the call and holds it up to his ear.

“This is Joaquin Torres,” he says, a little hesitantly.

“Mr Torres, I’m calling from the public hospital to confirm that you are the emergency contact of…” The woman on the other end of the line trails off, likely checking something on a piece of paper in front of her, before reading your name out.

Joaquin stands immediately immediately, not even bothering to turn off the TV as he heads straight for the front door. He’s already trying to put one shoe on as he confirms that he’s your emergency contact. 

“I’m calling you to inform you that she has been involved in a minor car accident, Mr Torres. She’s in a stable condition but–” 

“I’m on my way, tell her I’m on my way!” He hangs up the call, shoves his phone in his pocket and finishes pulling on his shoe before grabbing the other one and pulling it on as well. He barely even remembers to lock the door as he runs outside, heading straight for his car in the driveway. 

You’ve been in a car accident. Minor or not, an accident is an accident, he thinks as he puts the key in the ignition and turns it, putting the car into reverse so he can get out of your driveway and get on the road to you.

He’ll never admit it to anyone but you, but he drives a little over the speed limit to try and get to you just a little faster, cursing to himself the whole time that you didn’t live closer to the hospital. That he should have called you earlier to check on you. Or he should have offered to come and pick you up from work like he sometimes did. He’ll never forgive himself if you’re seriously hurt. 

When he eventually pulls into the hospital parking lot and pulls into a park, his hands are shaking as he exits his car. He shoves the keys into one of his pockets as he begins to run towards the front doors of the emergency department. It’s dark outside now, a chill in the air, and the thought of you inside the hospital all alone makes him run faster. 

The nurses at the front desk are more than helpful, one of them offering to escort him to where you are. His breathing is heavy from how fast he’d run into the hospital as the nurse stops just outside a room where a curtain is drawn. 

“She’s just in there,” she tells Joaquin before walking away.

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself for what he’s about to find on the other side, and pulls open the curtain. 

You’re laying on the bed in the middle of the room, your arm in a sling and a bandage around your head. At the sight of blood showing through the bandage and a cut on your lip, Joaquin’s heart crumbles in his chest.

“Angel,” he mutters, crossing the room in only a few steps until he’s by your side.

You blink your eyes open, a little weary from the painkillers they’d pumped into you. “Joaquin? What are you doing here?” You manage, voice thick from sleep. 

One of his hands moves to cup your jaw, a finger tentatively examining the cut on your lip. The look on Joaquin’s face is enough to wake you up. You can tell he’s terrified.

“They called me and told me you were in a car accident,” he starts. “Angel, what happened? Tell me everything.”

You look up at him and smile a little at the fact that he’s here and you’re no longer alone. One of your hands reaches up to rest on top of his, taking comfort in the feeling of his warm skin on yours. 

“I was driving home and some guy ran a red light and t-boned me,” you explain. “Everything’s a little foggy after that cause apparently I passed out. But I’m lucky I didn’t get hurt too badly. I just have a broken arm and a concussion, they said.” 

Joaquin is suddenly angrier than he thinks he’s probably ever been. “Where’s the asshole that ran the red light? Did they bring him to this hospital?” He turns around, looking through the open curtain out to the rest of the emergency ward and removing his hand from your jaw in the process. “I’m gonna kill that hijo de puta.” 

“Baby, it’s okay,” you try to bring his attention back to you. You reach out and brush your fingers along his wrist, the only part of him you can reach without sitting up or straining yourself – something that your doctor had recommended you not to do yet. 

“No, no, it’s not okay, angel,” he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair and starting to pace up and down beside your hospital bed. “That pedazo de mierda could have hurt you or even killed you, he deserves worse than what I’d be able to do to him. I should go and see if he’s here and make sure he’s getting arrested for this.” 

You watch him as he continues to pace. It’s rare to see Joaquin like this. Usually he’s the most soft, gentle, sweet boyfriend – the one all your friends are jealous of and the type of boyfriend that everyone wants. But seeing how protective he is over you when it comes to something like this makes for a change, and not an unwelcome one.

“Joaquin, baby,” you try again. “The police are handling it.”

If he hears your words, he doesn’t show it. He continues pacing back and forth, swearing under his breath and saying various other sentences in Spanish – most of them things that the nurses would probably not like to overhear. 

“I’ll be right back, angel. I’m gonna go talk to the cops,” he says, glancing back at you over his shoulder. He reaches for the curtain to close it again as he exits, only to see you standing beside the bed, starting to sway. “Woah, angel, what are you doing?!”

He rushes back to you, grabbing you gently and helping you sit back on the edge of the bed before you fall over. You squeeze your eyes shut. You’d figured that the only thing that was going to stop him was if you did it physically since talking hadn’t done anything – but what you hadn’t counted on was the fact that you were going to get dizzy from the sudden movement and the strain of standing up for the first time after your accident.

Joaquin cups your face in his hands. “Mi amor, what are you doing?”

You open your eyes and look up at him, noticing his furrowed eyebrows drawn in worry upon what he’d obviously just seen. It probably hadn’t looked too good from his point of view. “I was trying to stop you from leaving but I got dizzy,” you admit.

One of Joaquin’s thumbs swipes gently back and forward over your cheek. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I got a little carried away there, didn’t I?” 

You nod a little but stop quickly as your head spins again. Joaquin notices and promptly instructs you to get back into bed properly, but to do it slowly and carefully. He stays beside you the whole time, helping you when needed, and then sits on the edge of the bed beside you, one of his hands taking hold of one of yours. 

“It’s okay, Joaquin,” you reply to him finally. “You were worried about me, I know. If I was the one who got a phone call saying you were in an accident, I’d be the same way. But I’m okay. Really. I’m a little banged up but it’s nothing I won’t heal from. The last I heard from the nurses, the police were already questioning the man who ran the red light. He’ll get what he deserves when it comes to punishment. I’m sure of it.”

Joaquin’s grip tightens on your hand a little at the mention of the man who’d caused the accident. “He deserves worse than a little bit of jail time for hurting you,” he murmurs, shaking his head as he thinks it all over. “I’m not leaving your side until you’re all healed, you know?” 

You smile at him. “I’m counting on it. I’m going to need you to wait on me hand and foot until I’m better. I won’t be able to open anything with this broken arm. I’m going to need help with everything,” you say, a little teasingly. “I expect flowers every day as well.”

He chuckles. “As if I don’t wait on you hand and foot already, angel.” He reaches up a hand, one of his fingers swiping along your bottom lip. “This is going to be a bitch to heal, though,” he says, referring to the cut. “Every time I kiss you, it’ll make it hurt.”

“I think I’ll just suffer the pain in order to kiss you, Joaquin,” you admit with a small laugh, your hand squeezing his. “You’ll just have to be a little more gentle with me sometimes when it comes to kissing me.”

Joaquin smirks a little. “That’s gonna be a pretty difficult thing to promise…”

You roll your eyes jokingly before catching his hand in yours as he tries to move it away from your face and pressing your lips to the palm of his hand – even though your lip stings a little at the pressure. Joaquin’s face softens instantly at the small gesture.

“You’re really okay?” He asks softly.

“I’m going to be,” you insist. “I’ve got a pretty good Doctor at home.”

He grins. “Yeah, I’ve heard he’s also really good looking so you’re pretty lucky…”

[anonymousicecream]

A Fast Ride (Miyeon x M Reader)

Day 12: Car Sex

"Get in." You wasted no time dragging her away from the party, guiding her to your Porsche 911 and putting her in the front seat next to you. You immediately drove off, getting away from the shit estate that the party is held at, driving up towards the mountains at a speed where even she is frightened.

"Open the dashboard." Miyeon followed your instructions, opening the dashboard, seeing multiple sex toys as well as lube and a vibrator.

"Take the vibrator. Pleasure yourself." Miyeon then lift her skirt up a bit, exposing her pussy, before she inserts the vibrator into her pussy. She sets it to the lowest setting possible. "Tell me, why did you come to the party, wearing that, without panties as well." You heard no answer from her, so you pulled your ace card by taking over the speed of the vibrator through your steering wheel.

"Ahhhhh." Miyeon moaned loudly, which got even louder as you gradually increase the pace. "Answer me. If you don't, I'll make this the worst night of your life." You said as you drive even faster. "A-Alright alright. I did it to gain your attention. I need daddy to fuck me hard and bad after I ignored him for 3 months." Miyeon confessed, and it is the perfect answer as it is the answer you want and expected, already hearing about it from her dear friends Minnie and Soyeon.

You pulled over abruptly at a secluded part of the road up the hill, turning off the vibrator. "On me, now." Miyeon pushed the vibrator out before hopping onto you, spreading her legs open as she pulls you into a kiss. The kiss lasted shortly as you focused on appreciating other parts of her bodies instead, sucking on her tits repeatedly while she focused on only one part of your body, which is your cock. She fished it out of your jeans, stroking it hard and fast, making sure it is hard enough before she fucks you.

"Stop, that's enough." Miyeon said, before aligning your cock with her pussy. She lowers herself slowly, inserting 3/4 of your cock into her pussy before she starts riding you. She started off slow but you decided to up the pace, holding her hips to control her pace, helping her ride your cock hard and fast.

"Mmmmhhhh fuck you feel so tight."

"I know, and your big cock is carving a path inside my pussy, faster please."

You helped her ride your cock faster following her orders. To further increase stimulation, you grabbed her hands and put them on her tits, fondling them while her other hand rests on her clit, rubbing them to match your pace. Your hands didn't rest idle either, using one to help her pace, and the other to spank her ass, making her ride your cock even faster.

It didn't take any longer for her juices to start leaking. Her juices leaked even more as you start thrusting up, allowing you to get deeper inside her pussy. It didn't take long before she eventually came, not too intense which forced your cock out of her pussy, but intense enough to leave her shaking as you fuck her through her orgasm.

"AHHHH FUCKKKK BABY FUCKKKKKKK" Miyeon's moans echoes in the car as she came.

"I know baby I know. Turn around." You said as her orgasm died down. She then lift herself off your cock and turned around, helping her sit on your cock again this time in reverse cowgirl. She continues riding your cock while you play with her tits and clit from behind, stimulating her even more, trying to help her peak again, this time together with you.

Her rides were soft yet deep, managing to grind back and forth while you're deep inside her before she raised herself up again. This allows you to feel the extent of her wetness, as well as her tightness.

"Fuck, you're throbbing." "I know, and it's because of you baby." You said, making her blush, before you helped her ride you faster. It came as a surprise to you when she suddenly squirts again on your cock, triggering your orgasm as you came inside her pussy, filling her up.

[lymtw]

After The Bar

Toji loves taking you out to bars because he knows you can't hold your alcohol like he can. You're messy, and you gain an attitude that he almost never sees, but more importantly, you rely on him more than ever.

Toji laughs at the irritated expression you have on your face. "What are you looking at?" you ask, rolling your eyes as you look away from him. He doesn't take it to heart, instead smirking at the returning attitude in your tone. You've gone over your drinking limit, and he knows you wouldn't ever say that to him in your sober state. At least not like that.

"Your pretty ass, dummy," he responds. He watches you reach for your glass again, quickly intercepting your hand before you're able to grab it. He sees the confusion in your eyes as he moves the glass away from your reach. "That's enough for tonight, babe. Gotta get you home before you pass out on me."

You can barely hold yourself up. You lean most of your weight onto Toji as he walks both of you out of the bar. He knows this is no way to leave you alone tonight, so he decides to keep you at his apartment for the night. You're well acquainted with it, anyway. A surprise sleepover won't kill you.

"Where are we going, Toji?" You slur, watching him buckle you into the passenger seat.

"You'll recognize it when you see it," Toji says, flashing a smile before shutting your door.

He quickly makes his way to the other side, sitting in the driver's seat. He watches you rummage through his glove compartment, then the compartment between your seats. He has nothing to hide, so he doesn't stop you for a minute or so, but he knows you won't find anything in this state so he has to intervene. "Tell me what you're looking for."

His voice grabs your attention, making you stop. "Water. My mouth is dry, and I don't like the taste on my tongue," you mumble.

He reaches back into the pocket behind his seat and grabs a flask filled less than halfway with water. He twists the lid off and offers it to you. "Drink the rest."

"Mm-mm," you protest. "That's too much." You tip your head back and let the cool liquid soothe your throat. You thought you had drank more, but the water barely entered your mouth before you brought the flask back down in your lap.

"It's gonna make you feel better, ma. Just do it."

Your eyes roll every time your heavy eyes blink, but you genuinely mean the attitude behind your eye roll when you turn away from Toji and lean against the car door. The effects of the alcohol have you thinking he trying to boss you around, and you're not having it.

Toji scoffs, putting the lid in the cup holder. He reverses the car out of the parking spot, glancing at you once more before putting the car in drive. Your forehead is pressed against the window, and your arms hold the flask of water tight. You don't even notice when you doze off.

You woke up a couple times for a few seconds, turning towards Toji with wide, red eyes. He cracked up each time, but calmly told you to go back to sleep. One of the times, you took his hand and put it on your thigh before turning towards the car door again. His hand was warm, and rough, just... Toji. He didn't pull it away unless he had to make a turn, but it would go back to its place immediately after.

Twenty minutes later, you arrived near Toji's apartment. He pulled into his assigned parking spot, a bold 723 on the curb, the same as his apartment number. He turns the car off and unbuckles himself. He exits the car and makes his way to the passenger side. You weren't leaning on the door anymore, so Toji opened it.

"Baby, we're here." He nudges your shoulder, gently. Your eyes open, heavy as you look around. Your hand comes up to rub your eye and the flask of water tips over, spilling onto your shirt and the crotch area of your pants. You gasp, watching Toji grab the flask before all the water spills out. "It's all good, mama. It's just water," he says, noticing the shift to worry in your tired face.

"I'm sorry... I didn't..." you slur, feeling a lump in your throat. "Toji, I'm sorry. It's not pee, I swear."

He suppresses the smile fighting to show on his lips. He can't bring himself to laugh when you have the saddest eyes he's ever seen. They have a glint when he looks into them, so he knows you're holding back tears.

"I know, doll. I believe you. Let's get you into some dry clothes, yeah?"

"Okay," you say, to yourself. You sigh. "So hard to move," you mumble. You use all the strength you have to get your legs out of the car and onto the ground. It was an almost impossible task when you felt like the world was moving so fast. Every movement you made felt like you were dragging yourself in that direction more than necessary. You felt so heavy. "I won't make it," you say, looking up at Toji with watery eyes.

"Wanna hop on my back?"

"You're older than me. Don't wanna break your back." You wipe away a single fleeing tear.

Now that made Toji chuckle. He would have to remind you of it in the daytime.

"Don't worry about it. You're featherlight, baby." He turns around and crouches in front of you. You give in since he's already in position. Again, you put in all your effort to push yourself forward. Your chest lands on his back, your arms lazily draped over his shoulders.

"Hold on tight, or you'll slip." He helps you by pulling your thighs around his waist, a strong grip to hold you in place. Your arms apply a little more pressure around his neck. He genuinely lifted you like you were featherlight, not even groaning as he pushed himself up and out of the crouched position. He leaves the flask on the seat, not covered, trusting that it won't fall over. The door is shut and the car is locked before he carries you to his apartment.

He can hear your breaths against his ear, finding that you dozed off again. He unlocks the door, and leads you inside his home. The door is locked behind him, and he flicks on the living room light. He takes you to his bed, setting you down so he can grab some clothes for you.

He goes into his drawers and fishes out one of his shirts. His clothes don't fit you, but you're in no position to reject them.

"Sit up, ma," he says, walking towards you with one of his black shirts. The bed sinks with his added weight. "Don't have any bottoms for you, but you can still take your pants off if you want to let them dry."

You nod, not wanting to think for yourself anymore. Toji is sober, he knows best for now.

"Arms up," he instructs, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it off of you. "You wanna keep the bra on?"

You shake your head. Sleeping with a cold chest doesn't sound comfortable at all, so you let him unclip your bra and take it off. You quickly cover your exposed breasts. Regardless of how many times Toji has seen you naked, he doesn't protest your choice to cover yourself. Instead, he puts the shirt over your head and pulls it down your body. You release your breasts and put your arms through the armholes. You unbutton your jeans and kick them off, pulling the shirt down after to cover your upper thighs.

"Better?" He asks when your movements still. He receives a closed-eyed nod for a response. "'Kay, i'll be right back. Don't get out of bed." He squeezes your arm and rises off the bed.

He's gone for less than a minute, returning with a couple pills and a glass of water in hand. You'll wake up wanting these things, badly, so he'll save you the painful morning.

He dresses down and prepares himself for bed. He comes back to find that you're on his side of the bed. It would be a struggle to get you to move, so he'll accomodate for you, this time. He pulls you onto your side, facing him. If you blow chunks, you won't choke and die because of your position. Some might make it onto him, but that's a risk he's willing to take if it means you'll be fine.

You look cute in his enormous shirt. You don't normally wear it in circumstances like these where you're defenseless, but it suits you either way.

[chelseeebe]

moth to a flame

18+. mdni. smut. king!steve x kinda alt fem!reader. mentions of alcohol and drugs throughout. no ud so steve never gets the opportunity to develop from his jackass high school self. both he and tommy are kinda mean to poor old reader but he makes up for it in the end i promise.

a/n: there's something about lil stevie at the moment.. i think it's because i neglected him for so long that now i'm overcompensating lol. more eddie is coming tho i swear<3 so in my head r is like alt though descriptions don't really go past anything vague.

‎⋆⭒˚｡⋆

steve wasn’t really ever that choosy with his women. he didn’t have to be. 

they’d throw themselves at him, from the start of high school right through to college. by some grace of god, meaning his dad and his endless wallet, he’d made it into the university of chicago. 

partying his way through his studies with a plethora of women and friends who really only saw him as an open wallet. 

that’s where he’d met you. 

you weren’t a regular, that’s for sure. 

your hair dyed, clothes torn purposely and thick, dark rings of black around your eyes. 

he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you all night. watching as you’d ducked outside just after midnight, deciding to follow you, muttering something about a cigarette to tommy without a second thought. 

he’d found you around the empty side of the house smoking and stuck his tongue down your throat. 

with permission, of course. 

he’d seen you in there with the guy with the long hair, steve recognised him as someone he bought weed off occasionally. “he your boyfriend?”

relief washing over him when you’d shook your head no, “i can’t get you a discount if that’s what you’re asking.”

his shoulder had bumped against the hard brick in an attempt to nonchalantly lean against it, “noo.. i was just hoping you were single.” 

your smile grows though steve didn’t pick up on the sarcastic twang about it until after, “is that right?” 

“you don’t believe me?” 

“hmm not really,” stubbing the cigarette out on the side of the house. 

“but you are single, right?” deploying that trademark harrington grin, ever unfailing in his entire career. 

“i am.” 

“so why don’t you wanna make out with me?” reverse psychology, another never faltering technique. 

your eyes had narrowed, “i didn’t say that,” he’d known he was in from then on out, putty in his hands just the way he’d hoped. 

and thus, birthed this. whatever this is. 

-

steve waits rather impatiently for the party to die down enough to sneak out of here and get you into the back of his bmw. he hadn’t drank, swerving tommy’s attempts at getting him to drink with some vague, mumbly excuse. 

your meetings weren’t exactly tasteful, usually entailing some dark corner of the town and the leather of his backseat. 

you don’t speak outside of this, maybe a quick glance if he ever saw you outside of the parties but never anything substantial. 

but you’d gotten wise to his signals, you were usually found outside with that long-haired boy smoking which meant he had also began to get wise. 

steve would drop a cup and glance quickly in your direction or he’d loudly say his goodbyes before slipping out of the door. earning a groan or a roll of the eyes from your friend. 

steve’s grateful though, because he knows you’ll only be a few minutes behind. shuffling down the street to his beemer. 

tonight, you’d taken longer than usual. sighing as you slid into the passenger seat, steve’s gaze immediately falling to your chest, hungry as ever. 

“what’s wrong?” he asks, putting the car into drive before anyone had the opportunity to catch you. 

you shake your head, buckling in as the car speeds off, “it’s nothing,” settling yourself in the seat. 

“didn’t sound like nothing,” he’s not sure why he’s prying so much, you didn’t owe him any explanation. 

“it’s just..” debating whether to divulge, “eddie feels the need to tell me how much he hates you, every single time. it’s boring, you know?” 

oh. 

steve wasn’t quite expecting that. 

sure, he wasn’t the most likeable person ever but hate? 

“right,” he nods, unsure of where to go from here, “well.. i’m sure if he knew me, he’d think differently,” though even steve doesn’t quite believe that himself.

you hum in response, staring out at the disappearing road ahead. 

the car pulls in to it’s usual saturday night spot, overlooking the city on some disused street. quiet and calm but not for long. 

it’s the same foolproof routine every single week, you’ll sit and talk for a minute until one or the other gets fed up and pulls the other into the backseat. 

this week it takes a little longer for either of you to crack. you’re still pissed off by whatever eddie had said and he was desperate to try and break through your hardened exterior. 

he didn’t want to be hated by anyone, let alone your friends. 

perhaps it was fear. scared of eddie revealing the truth about your little rendezvous’ or maybe he really did want to know more about you. he’d been inside of you more than he’d ever asked about your day. 

steve had once thought the only people that had tattoos were freaks and criminals, but he doesn’t suppose you’re either of the two. 

he loves the way they look on your skin, adorning your arms like they were there before you were born. 

“why’d you get that one?” pointing to the flower on your wrist. 

you tut, “d’you wanna talk about my tattoos or d’you wanna have sex?” becoming annoyed with his attempts to close the bridge between you. 

“why not both?” he didn’t know a thing about you besides your name and how hard you liked his palm against your ass. maybe you really were a freak. 

“because you don’t care, not really,” shrugging at him from the passenger seat, “you don’t have to pretend y’know?”

“i’m not pretending,” steve frowns, “i wanna know about your tattoos and i wanna have sex with you, is that crazy?” 

you chuckle, turning in your seat to face him, “a little, yeah. i don’t believe that steve harrington cares about my tattoos at all.” 

fuck, he wishes this was normal, that you were normal and he could just take you out like he would any other girl. 

he doesn’t have a reply, sighing quietly to himself instead. 

your hand reaches over, cupping his chin in your palm and gently tilting it upward til he meets your eye again, “so.. sex?” 

steve nods, blinking rapidly as you shift over into his lap. if you weren’t going to indulge him then the least he could do was give you what you wanted. 

you keep your hand firmly on his chin, locking your lips as your hips move forward, grinding against his jeans, his hands coming to meet your waist. 

frantic in the way he grabs at your skin, needing you closer than his car allowed. 

what had really shocked him most about you, was the fact that your nipples were pierced. he’d never seen it before, not in real life anyway. but now he couldn’t imagine ever having another boob in his mouth that didn’t taste slightly of metal. 

he claws at your shirt, yanking it higher for access to your chest, pulling your bra down enough to reveal your tit, palming at the flesh before locking his lips around the sensitive skin. 

your skirt ends up above your waist, his hands roaming the fleshy area, grinding down against his stiff cock with an insatiable hunger. rutting until you’re moaning into the cramped car, his tongue still swirling around your nipple. 

“c’mon,” instructing him breathlessly, “need you now stevie,” your hands firm on his shoulders, praying he won’t make you wait any longer. 

he nods, letting your breast fall from his lips, gripping your waist to allow himself the space to wiggle his jeans down enough, his boxers following closely. your eyes roll at the sight of his cock springing out, already glistening with pre-cum from your incessant rutting. 

you’re already raring to go, sodden panties held to the side as he lines his tip with your soaked entrance, gazing up at you with wondrous lust. 

“fuck,” whispering harshly when you lower yourself onto him, his fingers leaving heavy marks on your hips. 

you take a moment to adjust, biting down onto your lip as your eyes reopen, meeting his before you begin moving. slow at first, thick thighs enveloping his waist. he wants to gnaw on them, leave purple markings all along the doughy skin. 

steve knows he has a big cock, he’s not stupid. it had been a thing to marvel throughout high school, in locker rooms and after hooking up with whoever. everyone had known. 

it doesn’t seem to phase you, bouncing up and down as your skin slaps together. he’s always found it hot, that two bodies could make such a sexy sound but with you it’s better. 

“that’s it,” you whine, melodically breathing in time with your body bouncing. 

your hand creeps away from his shoulder, hanging loosely around his neck, too scared to place any real pressure until he nods enthusiastically, placing a harsh hand to your ass, a clear cut green flag. 

you practically growl in response, tightening your grip on his neck, the seats of his car squeak and groan underneath your bodies as the car rocks on the wheels. 

keeping one hand on your ass and the other now nestling between your thighs, fingers perched on your soft stomach as his thumb finds your clit. 

“oh fuck,” you whine, enthusiastically moving up and down, squeezing his neck just enough to make his eyes roll back. 

steve tightens his grip on your ass, losing grip of his throat to slam your palm against the foggy window when his hips thrust upward, moving with yours in perfect harmony. 

he wants to swallow you whole, entranced by the sheer pleasure on your face, eyelashes fluttering and your lips parted to allow your melodic mewls to flow freely. 

“oh honey,” he moans, slamming into your dripping cunt. an insatiable urge to stay inside of you forever, “fucking.. shit, you feel so fucking good,” eye contact intensely heavy, dripping in pure unadulterated lust. “d-do that again,” referring to your palm around his neck. 

“you like that? hmm?” leaving steve to hold you upright, enveloping his jugular with a comfortable squeeze. 

no one had ever touched him like that, nor had he ever thought to ask anyone to touch him like that. sex had been a mostly placid affair before he met you, a couple positions if he was feeling crazy but nothing compared to the lewd shit you got up to. 

he can’t speak, his balls slapping against your thighs in a maniacal rhythm, relishing the feel of your cunt dripping down his cock onto his boxers. 

the car is stuffy, suffocating almost. the fluidity of your two bodies moving against each other only makes it worse. your skin sticks to his, chest clammy and slick. steve loves it, the messiness, the sheer animalistic need for one another. 

he grunts into the air, weaving his fingers through your untamed hair, a palm flat to your cheek as he finds your lips in a fumbling haze. 

your fingers leave his neck to trail down his chest, clawing at his shirt, desperately rutting your hips as you chase your orgasm. it all becomes sloppy when you begin to pant into his mouth, barely able to keep up the rhythm. 

“oh god,” whimpering between his parted lips, “fuck,” your thighs begin to shake, trembling uncontrollably as steve continues to thrust upwards, unrelenting though he’s teetering over the edge himself. 

your lips graze against his chin, mewling loudly while you come undone. a trembling mess, relying on his arms to keep your body upright. 

he can’t take anymore, your cunt squeezing and clenching around him, driving him completely insane. there's no way in hell that he could ever possibly imagine having sex with anyone else for the rest of his measly life.

“are you cumming?” you ask, holding onto the back of his clammy neck with a panicked look in your eye. 

steve nods quickly, using the last of his energy to thrust upwards one final time, uncaring of the consequences. or quite honestly not even considering what cumming inside of you could mean.

his hips stutter, the back of his head hitting the headrest as he grunts and groans, filthy words filling the warm car. 

he’s still inside of you when you look down, only allowing him a short moment to gather himself before you frown, “steve,” using your finger to flick his ear. 

“shit,” the threat of a child dawns on him, realising how much he shouldn’t have done that, “i’ll pay for.. whatever you need, fuck- i’m sorry,” keeping a firm hand on your waist, pleading for forgiveness. 

if you could feel what he felt, he thinks you’d understand. 

“you’re so lucky i’m on birth control.. idiot,” climbing off of him to rest on his thighs instead, readjusting your underwear as his release threatens to leak out. 

steve clears his throat, a little embarrassed to have lost all self control over your pussy. he's never been overly enthusiastic about the thought of having children but for a split second there, he had truly contemplated how bad it could be.

clearing the awkward silence with a quiet chuckle, raising his chin to meet your gaze, "sorry."

your glossy lips pout, gaze scanning his face before you hum, "you're forgiven."

-

tommy had dragged him out despite it being a tuesday night, knowing full well he’d be skipping his 9am class tomorrow. he had been really trying to make more of an effort with school lately.

you'd made a passing comment, something you'd definitely have forgotten by now but steve hadn't quite been able to shake it.

your dad's money won't last forever, you know?

it wasn't incorrect by any means, he just hadn't expected the wake up call to come from you.

obviously tommy hadn't got the memo, egging him on to ditch the books to get plastered.

the bar is packed for a weekday evening although steve recognises no one, mostly older folk with a lot of tattoos, eyeing steve’s nervous exterior. 

“get me a beer, i need a piss,” tommy hollers into his ear before disappearing off to the bathroom. ever the charming gentleman. 

steve goes stiff, wondering if he’d seen a ghost. 

you’d materialised behind the bar, looking disinterested in whatever the man in front was jabbering about. 

why are you here? 

he’s never asked what you do for work, never felt the need to. though he wishes he’d asked now. there’s no chance he can collect himself enough to speak to you. 

what if you gave it all away? what if tommy saw? oh fuck. 

steve’s never had a panic attack before but he feels mighty close now. 

he wipes his palms indiscreetly down his jeans, attempting to slow his breathing before he reaches the bar. why did tommy have to be such a jackass? they could’ve been at home tonight. he wouldn’t be having a fucking heart attack if they were. 

the person before him clears off, leaving a space for him to quietly shuffle into. you turn around, eyes locking with his but only letting the corner of your mouth twitch a tiny inch. 

your tongue clicks against your teeth, “what can i get ya?” playing along just as he’d hoped. 

“two.. uh, two uhm, coors.. please,” dropping his gaze as he pleads with god to let the world swallow him up.  

clearing your throat before getting the bottles from the fridge, sliding them across the bar with a sigh, “didn’t think this would be your scene to be honest,” stifling your laugh as the other patrons eye his sweater and too-tight jeans. 

steve gets it. 

the bar was crawling with people with piercings, ripped clothes and an overall disdain for the status quo. 

tommy fit in, he was loud and sweary just as they were but steve, he stuck out like a sore thumb. 

“it’s not.. really, tommy said it was cool.. i dunno,” he hated the fumbling mess you made him, he couldn’t ever understand it. 

you stare back at the disaster you’d created, running your tongue along your top teeth before tapping the bar, “seven bucks, please,” palm outstretched beside him. 

he shoves a ten into your hand, “keep the change,” grabbing the bottles before elbowing his way back to tommy. 

“what the hell took you so long?” 

“there was a line, dumbass,” rolling his eyes, passing off one of the bottles to his friend. 

“don’t lie,” tommy’s elbow jabs steve harshly in the ribs, “i saw you talking to that girl,” steve freezes, terrified of what tommy might say next.  “she’s hot,” tommy leers, “y’know in like a freak sorta way,” laughing obnoxiously loud for such a small bar. “you at least get her number?”

he just glares back, unsure of whether tommy knows more than he’s letting on or just being his usual ignorant self. 

“i could fuck the freak outta’ her, trust me,” the drunk continues, only serving to anger steve further. he didn’t want anyone to speak about you like that, much less tommy fucking hagan. 

“don’t say shit like that,” steve scolds, like he’s some petulant child who needs punishment. 

“what? like you care,” blowing raspberries with his mouth, “c’mon, loads of weird broads in here i can help instead,” walking off into the crowd with a mission. 

he glances over at you smiling with some customer, his stomach churning with unfathomable jealousy. he had no right to feel that way, in fact, he probably deserved it.

-

tommy’s in one of his unbearable moods again, bouncing around the party, antagonising any and every one who even attempts to get him to stop. 

steve doesn’t really care, nervously eyeing the door, confused by your absence. you hadn’t told him you were coming, but then you also hadn’t told him that you weren’t coming. 

had he done something wrong? the last time you’d spoken was when he and tommy had crashed your shift, only muttering a few nervous words about beer. he’s pathetic. you’d made him pathetic. 

an arm latches around his shoulder harshly, almost knocking the drink from his hand, “stop watching the door, she’s not coming,” tommy slurs, laughing cruelly in his face. 

“what?” steve’s body tenses, trying to shake off the drunkard. 

“your little girlfriend,” clarifying exactly what steve had thought he was saying. tommy clocks steve’s gawping mouth, his heightened breaths, “what?” chuckling loudly, “you think i don’t know? everyone fucking knows dude, you can cut the shit.”

he wriggles free from his grasp, “the fuck are you talking about?” it’s not as if playing dumb would help him now but he’d at least give it a shot. 

“fuck off man,” tommy shoves him backwards, “that’s why you’re acting like a little pussy at the moment,” spitting in his face, belligerent and arrogant, “steve fucks the weird girl and now he pretends to give a fuck about feelings and shit,” drawing the attention of the entire party. 

if it really had been that obvious, they’d all already know about it anyway. 

“you’re an asshole, you know that right?” steve fumes, shoving tommy back into the counter before grabbing the container of vodka behind, walking off into the party with his head held high. 

people eye him as he goes, sure they all knew. they’d all heard what tommy was screaming about, hell, they’d probably seen the two of you sneaking about for months. 

why did he care so? why didn’t he care more? 

-

steve’s hopeless, completely and utterly tragic. 

deserting the party after an hour of his ‘friends’ dancing around him and girls completely dodging his advances. 

he didn’t want them, not really. he just needed to fill a you shaped hole. 

the only place his intoxicated brain can conjure up to go is your house. his feet carrying him out of the door and across the large campus without much thought to it. 

it’s only when he reaches the small row of houses that he realises where he is. looking up at the quaint house he’d dropped you off at tens of times. 

he can’t go in, can’t go back to the party either. 

stuck between a rock and a hard place because no matter what, he’d come off pretty badly. 

“what’re you doing?” a girl he’s never seen before speaks from the shadows, a certain look of disgust on her features. 

steve stops his aimless pacing, realising just how weird he looked. how could he ever begin to explain himself? 

the girl i have sex with sometimes lives here and i’m here because my best friend found out about it and i don’t really know how to feel about that. 

though he opts for something a little easier to digest, “i’m just.. walking.”

the girl narrows her eyes, “i know who you are, steve harrington,” full disgust in her voice, “i don’t know if she’s home,” putting her key into the door. 

of course. the roommate you’d mentioned. robin or something like that. he’s not sure why he hadn’t thought of it. 

“can you.. can you check?” relieved to not have been the one knocking on the door. 

“well duh,” she scowls, opening the door and disappearing into the hall. 

thankfully, she doesn’t reemerge. unsure of how much he could take tonight without bursting into tears. 

you do though, peeking out of the door with a small frown, opening the door wider when you see his frame lingering. 

“steve?” confusion echoing, “what the hell are you doing here?” 

“hey,” steve waves, watching his fingers wiggle and immediately regretting it. the realisation creeping in that he was lurking around your house like a complete weirdo. 

“you’re drunk,” you state plainly, opening the door wider to reveal your heart-adorned pyjama shorts and fuzzy slippers. 

his eyes fall immediately, still desperate to suffocate himself between your thighs. 

“yup,” hiccuping through the dark. 

you sigh, you do that a lot when you’re talking to him, “jesus christ.. come in,” ushering him inside. 

he stumbles through the door, hazy eyes looking at your house, the decorations that littered the place. 

it’s so.. you. 

different and spunky, a guitar leant against the couch, banners and posters and pictures of you and your friends beaming plaster the walls. he can’t help but think about how much his mother would detest it all. wouldn’t fit her cookie-cutter world view, neither would you, really. 

is that why he liked you?

some repressed act of defiance against his mother? 

no, no he really doesn’t think so. 

“okay,” your hand finds his back, “upstairs now,” flashing a look to robin that he can’t distinguish between confusion and maybe slight fear. 

steve lets you guide him, appreciating the gentle hand, only wishing it hadn’t taken half a quart of vodka to get him here into your room. 

he flops onto the bed with a sigh, still too intoxicated to feel any real shame yet though he’s sure it’ll inevitably sneak in at some point. 

“what’re you doing?” pity addling your voice as you come to sit on the bed, desperate to not let his eyes trail down to your legs. 

“i wanted to see you,” murmuring his words, “you didn’t come tonight.. i missed you,” letting the spirit speak for him. 

you stare at him for a second, figuring out how to approach his fragile state, “didn’t think you’d want me there after the bar.” 

“why wouldn’t i?” 

you scoff, “you couldn’t even look me in the eye,” reinvigorating that twinge of guilt in his chest, “you were terrified of tommy finding out you even knew me,” you must really pity him. letting him into your house after he’d acted like you simply didn’t exist just a few weeks ago. 

“tommy knows anyway.. none of it even mattered,” steve sighs, rubbing his temple as the headache kicks in. 

“i know, steve,” offering little remorse. your eyes roll back, sighing softly, “he came by the bar a few days ago, he was drunk, trying to.. it doesn’t matter. i know he knows, i don’t really care,” shrugging as if you couldn’t understand why he did. 

maybe rather selfishly steve had assumed that you were also somewhat ashamed of this arrangement. it hadn’t occurred to him that only he felt so pathetically guilty and oddly protective over your relationship. 

he wanted you to himself and at the same time wanted absolutely no one to know about it. 

“but i care,” it sounding even worse out loud than it did in his head. 

yet he means it. he just can’t really understand why. 

your eyes lower, shifting uncomfortably on your bed as your smile grows sadder, “you don’t want anyone to know that you fuck the freak, right?” a glum, melancholic tone to your words that makes his heart ache. 

“yes- no, i don’t really know,” shoulders slumping, giving up all hope of ever understanding the things he was feeling. 

your lips purse, the mattress dipping as you stand, unwilling to give any more energy to the conversation. “why don’t you sleep it off here?” still refusing to re-meet his eye, “i’ll take the couch, alright? you just.. get some sleep,” slinking off to the door before he can protest. 

“wai-,” but you’re gone.  

left on his own in your room. 

he can’t help but think that you should be here too, the first time he’d gathered enough courage to come to your house and he’d pissed you off that badly, you had to sleep on the couch. 

all he wants is for this to be normal. to take you out like he did the other girls, show you off to his friends and be proud of it too. 

steve wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want that, but he wanted to at least tell you.

screw tommy hagan and anyone else that had anything to say about it. 

he stumbles out of your bedroom, trying to remember which way to go to reach the steep stairs. god he hopes robin isn't down there with you. they'd interacted for no more than five minutes and yet he could already sense her general distaste for him.

the floorboards creak under his weight, dragging his uncoordinated feet down until he hits the floor with a thud, missing the last few steps completely.

your head pokes out of the closed door, with what he hopes is worry on your face. "what the fuck? are you okay?" rushing over to his crumpled body. this would all be highly entertaining if he weren't in the midst of an identity crisis.

"i'm good, i'm okay," clinging onto your arm. rather than standing to get to your level, he decides that dragging you down onto the floor with him is the best way to confess. ignoring your shrieks of complaint as you land harshly on his lap.

"what are you doing?" unable to hold back the maniacal cackle any longer.

"i'm trying to tell you something," steve mumbles, pressing his forehead against yours in hopes the words would somehow telepathically absorb through your skin.

they don't, obviously. because that's not how this works.

"i think that i," he hiccups,, sliding his hand down your arm to grasp your hand, "i think i really, really like you," stammering through his half-assed confession. on further thought, he probably should've waited until morning before deciding to unleash this unto you. "and i think that i've been an asshole to you," swallowing the gargantuan lump in his throat, "and i want to- only if you want to," earnestly gazing into your eyes, his thumb tracing your soft knuckle.

"want to what, steve?"

"i want to be with you, like.. dating or- or your boyfriend," hoping that now you’d understand his stammering, incoherent words.

your face displays something he can’t place, twisting the knife in his chest completely to only ease up when your lips twitch, “i think you’re drunk,” brushing off his confession.

steve wants to scream, he’d laid himself bare for you and while he probably didn’t deserve to call you his girlfriend, he also didn’t deserve to never get the chance to ask.

“i am,” admitting to his sins, “but i mean it,” nodding his head against yours, putting your hand to his chest, “i want it, i want you.”

your lips purse, he hates it when you do that. still unable to get through that mysterious shell you’re clinging onto, leaving him to try and guess what you’re thinking. most girls were fairly obvious in the way they treated steve. either fawning over him or they’d argue until he’d hate it and ghost them.

“even if everyone knows?” slowly opening up to the idea of you two. or at least he hopes so.

“especially if everyone knows.”

it’s a stark contrast from the embarrassingly nervous wreck he was at the bar, too terrified to even look you in the eye. he’d decided that it just wasn’t him. you deserved better and steve couldn’t stand to watch anyone other than himself give you that.

“..okay,” you blink, lashes brushing against his skin as they flutter, “but i’m gonna ask you again in the morning,” narrowing your eyes, ever the voice of caution.

steve just grins, morning couldn’t come soon enough if that was all it’d take to get you to believe him.

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Prompt 17

The woman is on a call with her partner

Prompt: “Are you pushing?”

AN: I really enjoy the trope of a partner rushing home to their labouring wife, driving fast trying not to miss the birth, the sounds of the woman’s labour echoing around their car. But for this, I thought it would be fun to reverse it. Hope it’s just as fun to read this way round. [fpreg, 2915 words]

Almost Home

Answering the phone Jack immediately put it on speaker, placing the device beside his laptop as he worked from home. “Hi honey, how’s the shopping going?”

“Err… yeah. Fine. Got everything I wanted but um…” His wife, Rosie, trailed off. Her voice sounded strained and uncertain. “Do you think you could mmm-maybe log off from w-work this afternoon-?”

“Why, what’s wrong? Are you alright? You sound a bit breathless, well more so than usual.” Jack joked but his eyes narrowed in concern.

“I’m fine it’s just— hoooooo — I don’t think those c-cramps this morning were false con-contractions.”

“What…You’re…in labour?” Jack grabbed his phone and stared at the caller ID in shock. “Okay… errr where are you, still at the mall? I’ll get an Uber and come get you.”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m on my way home now.” Rosie’s voice assured down the line.

“You’re driving… with contractions? Jeeze Rosie.”

“Will you relax, I’m fine. It’s only half an hour away and it’s all straight roads-mnnnhhhhh…” Her voice disappeared into a low groaning sound through the tinned speakers.

“… Rosie?” Jack called her name nervously but only got the sounds of her heavy panting in return. He swallowed the urge to shout at her for driving whilst in labour - it was their first baby and he didn’t want to be the cliche panicking father-to-be. It was probably just early labour pains so instead tried to offer help and support down the phone line.

“Try and breathe through it sweetheart, in and out.”

He could hear the way her voice rattled around the car as she moaned, deep and long, and the sounds of her suffering pulled at his heart. When it was over his wife was back on the phone again.

“Oof!… baby feels really low babe. Can you get our hospital bag ready by the door? We might have to head out pretty quickly.”

“But we don’t need to go to the hospital until the contractions are 5 minutes apart, or if your waters break.”

“Uh-huh.” Was all that his wife replied.

“Rosie… how long have you been having contractions?” Jack sternly asked, knowing his wife and fearing the response.

“Mmnnnnh… well, they’ve not really stopped since the ones this morning. And I guess I was feeling a bit crampy during the night…” Rosie admitted between deep and measured breaths.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn't realise they were labour pains, well not at first. But you’ve got that big project at work and we really needed to get this stuff for the nursery so I figured a walk around the mall would help get things moving a bit… Oohhhhhh….it's definitely done that job.” Rosie found herself humming on each exhale as she breathed through the fierce pressure and pain deep in her pelvis.

“Screw the work, Rosie, you should have told me you were having contractions.” Jack scolded, worried and nervous his wife was currently in labour without him.

“Mnnngh— shout at me later, just- just get the bag ready. Hoooooo-fuck..!” She groaned, gripping the steering wheel tight in her fists as another contraction rippled across her belly sending shooting pains up her spine and down her thighs.

Jack slammed his laptop shut and ran through the house trying to remember where they’d put the bag - why was it that you could never remember where you’d put things when you put them in a “safe place”? - all the while keeping his phone gripped in his hand and hearing the sounds of his labouring wife echo out the small speaker. Insisting that he stay on the line, Jack continued to offer words of encouragement and support as Rosie dangerously made her way home. He found the bag in their closet and rifled through the contents to check everything was there before heading downstairs to wait for his wife to return with the car, a journey which at this moment seemed to be dragging on for a lifetime.

“Mngh— thank fuck!” Rosie gruffed.

“What is it?”

“Traffic lights… contraction… Ooooohhhh- mmmnghhhhh….!!” Rosie took her hands off the wheel as she stopped at the lights, holding her rock solid belly in both hands and trying her best to breathe through the waves.

Jack checked the time on his phone, keeping track of the very short gaps between her groans, and hesitantly and reluctantly he said “Honey, they’re sounding awfully close together. Maybe you should stop and call an ambulance?”

“What?! No, I’m f-fine… hoooo…I’m not giving birth without you. I can m-make it h-home…” Despite her words and determination Rosie’s thighs subconsciously widened in her seat.

“Are you sure?” Jack could hear the almost constant low rumblings of a groan coming from his wife, through every breath and every word spoken.

“Nnnghhh— yes. Just… talk to me… keep me distracted… from these- oof!- contractions.” Rosie gruffed and put the car back into drive when the lights turned green and continued her journey home.

Following Rosie’s instructions, Jack started rambling about nonsense; work stuff, friends and family messages he’d received, mindlessly muttering to keep both their focus away from the sounds of pain emanating from his wife every few minutes. He stayed by their front door, looking through the window at the quiet rural street, waiting desperately for the first glimpse of their car.

Rosie meanwhile tried to hang on to every word coming through the car Bluetooth speakers, trying to ignore the pressure in her hips that was getting excruciatingly worse with every passing second. Her legs were spread as wide as they could go in the driver's seat; one squished against the door while the other was pressed against the centre console, her solid bump right up against the wheel. Even with wide legs nothing was relieving the pressure and the wrenching pain pulling her pelvis apart. The groans coming out her mouth were getting longer, deeper, and had started to end with an almost primal grunt. Her sweatpants were already damp from her waters breaking earlier; whilst walking around the shops she had eventually admitted defeat when the contractions had gotten close enough together that she could no longer ignore what was happening, and typically her waters had gone just as she was waddling across the quiet car park.

It was during a deep grunt that Rosie had a panicked realisation that her body had been automatically pushing. “Ohhhhhh… oh no….oh no…” She whimpered quietly, immediately trying to stop the contracting muscles. The car microphone obviously picked up her words for Jack immediately asked what was wrong.

“Nothing… I’m okay… we’re okay. I just have to breathe through it.”

And not push! Rosie thought to herself, gripping the steering wheel and trying to sit more upright in the hopes that if she blocked the baby’s exit that her labour might slow down a bit.

Jack could hear the raw panic in his wife’s voice, making him practically jump off the walls with frustration that he was stuck at the end of a phone and not with her. He knew she was not okay, she was in labour for fucks sake, but there was something else in her tone… He didn’t know what to say… he wanted to press the question, but she was suffering contractions and driving herself home - she didn’t need his frantic questioning as well.

“Remember the breathing we learnt in antenatal class; short, sharp breaths. You can do this Rosie, you are nearly home.” Jack said reassuringly, but he had no idea if that statement was true.

Rosie’s legs were trembling, barely able to keep her foot on the accelerator to keep the car moving. She would not have stood a chance in a manual car. Following her husband's instructions she panted through the contraction but she could feel the baby sinking lower and lower… she tried to squeeze her thighs together, clench anything that would stop this baby’s progress but everything she tried just made the pressure worse. It was torture, fighting against her body’s primal urge. She needed to push, her body screamed at her to bear down, her baby apparently desperate to be born. Sweat rolled down the back of her neck as she baulked against her instincts, her tight belly was radiating heat like a furnace and she wanted to turn up the air conditioning but daren’t take her hands off the wheel. Her tight grip was the only thing keeping things together, her fingers digging deep into the leather keeping her laser focused on the journey.

Two more contractions passed with that excruciating pressure, the gaps between almost non-existent. The baby’s head was right between her thighs, she could feel it, bulging obscenely into her underwear. Her upright position was agony, feeling like she was practically sitting on the baby’s head. With the next contraction her body slumped, acting without any instruction, trying to relieve the pressure that was bringing tears to her eyes. The pain and pressure was rising up and up and Rosie had no choice but to push with the barrelling force, grunting and widening her legs in the process.

“…Rosie…?” Jack’s concerned voice whispered out the speakers.

She opened her mouth to reply but her body had other ideas and all that came out was a lowing groan as her body bore down against the solid mass in her cervix.

“Are you pushing?!” Jack yelled down the phone.

“Mnghh-trying-not-to- ughhh! Oh fuck!” She gasped.

“Stop! Don’t push. You can’t be pushing now!”

“Try telling our b-baby that— ooohhhhh mmnghhhhhhhh!!” Rosie gripped the steering wheel and sank into the seat, uncontrollably bearing down.

“Rosie pull over, the baby is coming now.”

“Mnnnghh… no! It’s not c-crowning… I can hold it -hooo- in… I’m just down the r-road…” The baby was right at her entrance, her labia bulging and sore against her clothing, but she could make it. She was so close to home.

“For fucks sake Rosie.”

“Oh Jack!” Rosie suddenly cried, her body still bearing down even without her help and she felt her lips start to part. “The head… I think it’s coming - grrrhhhhh— out!! … I’m— I’m trying not to push but I can’t stop it— grhhhhhhh oh god!!!”

“Rosie, stop the damn car!!!” Jack screamed down the phone.

The labouring woman’s foot had come off the pedal already, the car rolling along the quiet rural street. She should brake and safely stop the car, but she wasn’t in control of her body - it was too busy pushing against the heavy boulder in her vagina. The car thankfully slowed to a stop at the side of the road and in between frantic pushes Rosie managed to put the car into “park”.

“Ooohhh Jack… I can feel the head…” she cried out as the round shape pushed against her folds. Rosie tried to lift her knees, to make more space, but the steering wheel blocked any real movement.

“Have your waters broken hun?” Jack’s voice was strained in his attempt to stay calm.

“Nnghh…they-broke-at-the-mall-mmmghhhh…!” Gritting her teeth Rosie disappears into another deep and primal push, her body taking charge determined to get this baby out.

“Fuck. Okay… honey I need you to listen to me; I need you to try and see how much of the baby has come out. Can you do that?”

Rosie panted and nodded her head, forgetting for a moment that Jack couldn’t see her. “…yeah. I’ll try…” she added.

Knowing that removing her clothing wasn’t an option in this position, Rosie moved a nervous hand around her big belly between her spread thighs and felt the clear shape of the top of the baby's head through her leggings.

“It’s poking out a bit but— hooohooo- it’s not fully out yet.” She whimpered and sobbed, the realisation of her situation hitting her full force with the first contact with her baby. She was trapped in her car at the side of a road giving birth.

“Where are you babes? I’m gonna call an ambulance.” Jack's heart was breaking, not only for missing the birth of his child but also not being there to support his soul mate during all this.

“At-the end- of our road… oh Jack,” she whined with fear and tears “I need you. I can’t do this.” Her chest heaved with her rapid breathing, the pressure was overwhelming and her labia was on fire.

Jack flew out of the house so fast he didn’t even shut the front door behind him when he sped down the street, running. “Just hold on Rosie, I’m coming.” He panted down the phone, his legs burning with the sudden physical movement.

“Ohhhh the baby’s coming… I need to push again— ughh…no…have to pushhhh but— mmmnnnghhh!!!— not enough room! ” Rosie was panicking, her legs were as wide as she could get them in the driver's seat but it wasn’t enough to make space for the emerging baby. Her body was too upright, her belly too squished, her legs too close for the large head to get through her birth canal.

“I can see the car Rosie, I’m coming, hold on just a little bit longer.”

“Mnnghhhhh!!!!” Rosie was completely lost to another uncontrollable bout of pushing. When the contraction waned, enough to somewhat control the urge, Rosie threw open the car door and swung her legs out immediately. “Hoooo-hooo… baby hang on just a minute… just give me one minute…ohhhh”

Awkwardly and cumbersomely Rosie managed to pull her body out of the low car seat, gripping the car door and heaving her labouring body to stand. The weight in her womb suddenly dropped even lower, the head pressing against her opening and stretching her lips wider than she thought possible, the baby fully crowning between her legs. “Ohhhhhhhh…shit!!.” She turned around and braced against the door as the baby’s movements prompted another contraction. Before she could take a breath her body was already bearing down and her knees widened and trembled. The car was still running, the phone call with her husband still connected, but she couldn’t speak. All that she could think was getting this baby out and getting it out right-fucking-now.

A long animalistic grunting sound came out her throat as she dipped into a deep push. The baby’s head was slipping beyond the crown into her clothing, pushing against her maternity leggings and bulging it down. A gasp, a desperate gulp of air, was all she was given before she was pushing again giving it everything she had.

If the car wasn’t already in Jack’s eyesight, Rosie’s loud roar would have told the anxious father exactly where his wife was at that moment. He watched her pull herself out the car, her face flushed and exhausted, her hair limp and damp on her shoulders. He thought she must have seen him, and was getting out to get to him, but when she turned around and grunted deeply Jack almost froze in fear. This was really happening, their baby was actually coming, here and now. The car door blocked the view of his labouring wife but her cries echoed down the country road and he could see her body dipping down and bouncing back up. She was pushing, that much was evident, but he was panicked at what he'd find when he’d reach her.

“Rosie!!” Jack shouted as he approached. She turned, tears falling from her cheeks, but her eyes widened with relief for a split second when she saw him. Her mouth opened to shout back but instead the relieved look in her eyes vanished and another groan spilled from her lips as she clasped back on to the car door and pushed again uncontrollably.

Jack could see her body was trembling from head to toe with the strain, and when he passed the open car door he could see why - there was a giant round shape pulling at the crotch of her leggings.

“Jack— the head— hooooo I think it’s out…” Rosie panted, still clinging onto the vehicle for dear life.

“Oh my god. Oh Rosie…” words failed him and his arms went around her back.

“Get them off! Get my leggings off!” She growled through clenched teeth.

“Right… errr of course.” Jack stuttered, completely lost and uncertain. He pulled the clothing down over his wife’s hips and was immediately greeted with the face of his newborn child. “You’re right, heads out I can see them! Oh my gosh hi baby!”

“Mmnngh— Jack… is there a chord? Round the neck?” Rosie shifted awkwardly from hip to hip, leggings bunched at her knees, as she felt the start of the next contraction coming.

“I— I don’t think so. How do I check?”

“Can you see anything— wrapped around the neck?? Ohhhhhh hurry… there’s so much pressure… I’m trying really hard not to push…” Rosie balled her fists and dug her nails into her palms.

“No… nothing is round the neck.” Jack confirmed.

“Ohhhh great. Get— hoooo get ready to c-catch!!…” Rosie warned before taking a gulp of air and clamping her mouth shut as she pushed. Her hips dropped and knees bent, almost into a squat, with the force of her push. She tried to open herself as much as she could, the shoulders pressing against her opening. “Mnnnghhhh— come on baby…!!!” She cried and bore down, growling with the effort and eventually feeling the baby move downwards. “It’s coming— out!!!”

With a gush of fluid the baby slipped from Rosie into Jack’s awaiting hands and immediately gurgled a soft cry.

[revelboo]

your revel highness, if its not too much trouble could you spare some knockout or drift crumbs? only if you're up for it

Sure!

My Favorite Accident Pt 7

Knockout x Reader

• “You can’t just keep sneaking out. It’s being noticed,” Breakdown growls and Knockout huffs at his friend, sterilizing and putting his tools away. Because this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation. Knows Breakdown worries about him and the repercussions of him sneaking out just to drag race, but really? Lord Megatron is too busy amusing himself with tormenting that little human they snatched thinking it was important to the Autobots only to realize it wasn’t. Anything else he doesn’t have time for.

• “Aren’t I always careful?” He laughs, turning and tipping his head back as Breakdown frowns at down at him. “It’s just a little fun. You remember what that is?” Pointedly going around his bigger friend, he thinks about that cesspool he’d left you in. Plating crawling at the thought of ever returning there. Embarrassed for you that you work there and wondering how angry you’d be if he burns it down while you’re not there so you have to find a new job. Though, given your current one and that pit-forsaken hovel you live in, you’ll somehow find something worse just to spite him.

• “You’re just spending a lot of time with those little flesh bags,” Breakdown mutters and he vents guiltily. That’s what this is about. That he’s been out racing and lately, practicing alone with you instead of hanging out with Breakdown. Reach up to affectionately cuff the bigger mech on the chassis, he knows he needs to spend some time with Breakdown. But he also needs to check on you, make sure you got home okay. It’s not like he cares, but who is he going to race if you get yourself killed? That in mind, he heads out, aware of Breakdown frowning after him. Unhappy.

• Hoofing it back to the apartment since your ride ditched you, the only good thing is it’s dark now and you’re not baking in the sun at least. But you’re going to kick the hell out of Knockout’s stupid, shiny paint when you see him again. Who just leaves someone stranded? High maintenance alien jerks, apparently. Hair slicked to your forehead and neck with sweat, you see the headlights coming up behind you and move further off the road just as a car streaks by only to immediately slam on the brakes. Speak of the devil.

• On the side the road, he almost doesn’t recognize you, driving past before he catches you in his mirrors. Throwing himself in reverse with a snarl, he backs up and shifts on his shocks. “Why are you walking?” Primus, he knows you’re broke, but still. And you glare at him. Like this is his fault. Annoyed when you just keep walking, he follows.

• “I’m walking, because my ride ditched me.” And because you didn’t have anyone to call, but you’re not about to admit that. Not to him. “Go away before I key you.” It’s an empty threat and you both know it. Even if he seems to, well, not like you, but tolerate your existence, you’re pretty sure he’d stomp you if you tried. And he pops open a door, waving it in invitation. “Really? Cause I’m sweaty.” Door closing sharply, he just keeps passively rolling alongside you.

• What is he doing? Keeping his headlights out, Breakdown trails behind at a safe distance. Close enough to not lose Knockout, but too far away to hear whatever’s being said. But what he can tell? Knockout is talking to a little human walking by the side of the road. Sees his friend open a door for you then close it without you getting in as you throw up a hand at him. Who are you? And why is Knockout bothering with you?

Previous

Next

[uss-butterscotch]

Welcome to Part Five! We’re still in the Max interlude, so enjoy :3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

-

Eddie was counting his brief encounter with Max as a win. He figured, based on the argument he had overheard, and her seemingly general disinterest in almost everything, that she would be willing to give up Harrington’s secrets simply because she didn’t care enough to keep them. All he had to do now was formulate a plan to get her to trust him enough to actually talk to him.

The opportunity presented itself on a particularly brisk morning in mid-October. He made it out of the house in time to not be late to first period for once, and he noticed Max leaving out her front door at the same time, skateboard tucked under her arm. She started walking down the gravel driveway out of the trailer park.

“A little late to start walking to school, isn’t it?” He called after her.

She stopped, turning back to him.

“A little early to be harassing underage girls, isn’t it?” she shot back.

Eddie put his hands up in surrender. “Look, all I’m saying is, we’re going to the same place. If you want a ride, my passenger seat’s wide open,” he peeked into the window, “well, it will be as soon as I throw this bag of trash in the back.”

She glared at him for a concerning amount of time, then rolled her eyes and started walking toward the van. Eddie grinned and hopped into the front seat, throwing as much of the random stuff that was currently occupying the shotgun seat into the back.

When he started up the car, the tape he had left in the stereo began blasting through the speakers. Max, upon entering the van, immediately reached over and ejected it.

“Hey!” He said instinctively, “my car, my music.”

He reached to push the tape back in, but Max snatched it before he could. She opened the glove box and threw it in. “My step-brother used to listen to shit like that.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and put the van in reverse, pulling out of the trailer park. “He doesn’t anymore?”

“He’s dead.”

Despite the constant rattling and slight screeching that accompanied the van while it was in motion, the silence that followed was downright suffocating. Eddie remembered his conversation a few weeks ago with the freshmen of Hellfire. He felt like simultaneously the world’s biggest idiot and asshole.

“Oh shit,” he said quietly, “Billy Hargrove, right?”

Max just glared out the window, arms crossed.

Now don’t get him wrong, Eddie wasn’t glad the guy was dead, but he was glad he didn’t have to run into him ever again. He found it hard to imagine anyone having any sort of positive relationship with Billy Hargrove, but he thought it best to offer his condolences anyway.

“I’m sorry… did you uh, were you guys close?”

“I hated him.” She stated with almost a forced coldness. Like it was something she’d said over and over again.

“Oh.” Was all Eddie could come up with. Truthfully, Eddie could relate to the situation. Al Munson was a real shit show of a human and an even worse father, but now that he was gone, there were a lot of complicated and ugly feelings associated with the memory of him.

Of course, Eddie had had a few years and late night chats with Wayne to carefully tuck all of those feelings away somewhere he wouldn’t burn his mind-hand on them every day when he went to cook up thoughts. Okay that was a weird analogy, sue him, his brain was weird. Anyway, as he was figuring out a way to bring up the similarities of their situations, Max spoke up again.

“I wanted him gone for so long, I should be glad he finally is.” She bit her cheek, “I mean- I’m not glad he’s dead, but I am sort of glad it was him and not anyone else, you know? And I guess I feel bad about that.”

He saw her look sharply at him out of the corner of his eye as he watched the road. “I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this.”

Eddie shrugged. “Maybe because I wasn’t there. I don’t know what happened, so I can’t really give my opinion on it?”

Max nodded slowly. “Or,” he continued, “maybe you could psychically tell I’ve been there. Sort of.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him but kept quiet.

As the school came into view, he said. “Come on, you must know most people don’t end up in Forest Hills trailer park because things went spectacularly right in their life?”

She seemed to accept this line of thought, her expression less accusatory and more contemplative. He pulled into the parking lot. “I have a proposal for you-“

“Why the hell would I marry you?” She cut him off.

“There are other kinds of proposals, Red.” She rolled her eyes, but let him continue. “If you ever wanna have a ‘whose life sucks the worst’ competition with someone who might actually beat you, you know where to find me.”

As he shut the car off, she narrowed her eyes at him, not unlike Robin had the other day, trying to see if he had some other angle. And sure, he had come into the morning with one, but now that he had actually had a conversation with the kid, his main priority was to induct her into the society of lost sheep. Any clues he got from her for his side quest, would just be whipped cream.

After that, as the days got colder, they came to an unspoken agreement. On days that Max’s mom was too “busy” to drive her to school, she’d be waiting, leaning against Eddie’s van, Walkman blasting, until she could hitch a ride with him. Occasionally, if he had turned his alarm off and resigned himself to missing first period, she would bang on his window until he came out, irritated as hell, and got them both to school in record time.

He never tried to play any of his metal tapes again with Max in the car, but once he did steal one of Wayne’s Patsy Cline cassettes and loaded it in the day before. When ‘Walkin’ After Midnight’ started up, Max jumped slightly in surprise that there was music playing at all. Then, when she realized what it was, gave Eddie an equally exasperated and irritated look.

“Do you really think this is what I listen to?” She asked.

“No, but was I right in assuming you have no negative memories associated with dear sweet Patsy?”

She continued glaring at him. Then sighed and shook her head and looked out the window for the rest of the ride. Resolutely ignoring Eddie’s ridiculous singing along.

Most days they didn’t talk about anything. Occasionally they would complain/gossip about their obnoxious neighbors.

On November first she seemed more sullen than usual.

“Who pissed in your corn flakes?” Eddie asked when she didn’t even take her headphones off like she usually did.

When she turned to scowl at him, he noticed the deep purple bags under her eyes.

“Didn’t sleep last night,” she grumbled and turned away from him, closing her eyes. He narrowed his own at her for a second before going to start the van.

Right before he did, the little dog in the yard across the way crashed into the fence and started barking loudly at nothing, as it was usually doing. What was unusual was the way it made Max jump, eyes flying open and sucking in a harsh gasp. She looked around frantically, her breaths quick with panic.

“Woah there, Red, it’s just Mrs. Dalton’s dog getting excited over a squirrel or something,” he said, hoping his casual tone would soothe whatever she thought was happening.

She looked sharply at him, then cleared her throat. She shifted in her seat for a second, then settled back again. “You have your like, game thing tonight, right? With Dustin, and Mike, and Lucas?”

Eddie grinned. “Absolutely. Every Friday night,” he finally started the car, “you thinking of joining?”

She made a face of disgust, “Hell no. Just,” she pressed her lips together like she was thinking, “do you- you’re not planning on using demogorgons or anything, are you?”

Halfway through reversing out of his parking spot, he gaped at her in shock. “You know what a demogorgon is? I thought you didn’t play?”

“I don’t.” She snapped, “But I am friends with those nerds and they don’t shut up about it.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at her and pulled out of the trailer park. “Why shouldn’t I use deomogorgons?”

Max’s eyes darted around in a way that was becoming all too familiar to Eddie, she was figuring out a way to say something without revealing details of a secret, and if he had to guess, it was the same secret that the others were protecting when they did it.

“It’s just that, well, do you remember when Will Byers went missing?” She eventually said.

Eddie nodded, and then apparently died and came back to life he thought. “Yeah, what does that have to do with my D&D game?”

“The night that he disappeared, they were playing D&D together, the guys and Will, and they were fighting a demogorgon,” she explained stiltedly, “and it was around this time of year, it just- it might bring up bad memories…” She trailed off and watched the trees fly past the window as they drove.

Eddie nodded and hummed in consideration. “Does it bring up bad memories for you?”

She turned back to him, eyebrows furrowed. “No. I moved here last year, I didn’t even know Will then.”

“Ah, so you look like death warmed over this morning for completely unrelated reasons.” He said sarcastically.

“Yes, actually.” She said, failing to elaborate.

Eddie raised his eyebrows, indicating she should go on.

She continued glaring at him, he figured she hoped he would back down eventually. Unlucky for her, he was the stubborn type. He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Max rolled her eyes. “Fine, if it’ll get you to stop making that face, I’ll tell you.” She sighed, “Today is the anniversary of the night my dead stepbrother attacked Lucas and almost beat Steve Harrington to death in front of us.”

Eddie should really learn his lesson about prying for more information than he was prepared for from Max. They sat in Eddie’s stunned silence for a moment before he cleared his throat.

“Right, yeah, Wheeler mentioned that, but he was pretty sparse on the details,” he decided to take the opportunity to learn more about one of the events he believed to be central to the mystery, “what exactly happened that night? Why were you guys hanging out with Harrington?”

She scoffed, sounding offended. “Did it maybe occur to you that I don’t want to talk about that?”

Eddie almost wanted to push further, but he remembered how successful that had been for Harrington. He glanced over to her to find her daring him to continue with her eyes.

Eventually, he clicked his teeth and shook his head. “Look, Red, I’m not gonna try to make you talk about anything you don’t want to. I’ll keep driving you to school in complete silence if that’s what you desire,” stopped at a stoplight, he turned to give her a meaningful look, “but, loathe as I am to admit it, I agree with Harrington’s sentiment the other night, whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to do it alone. You shouldn’t, that road never leads anywhere good.”

Her pinched expression didn’t falter. “And I’m supposed to take advice from the guy who failed senior year twice and sells weed to the losers of this town?”

Eddie shrugged, “All I’m hearing from that is that I have, at least a little more life experience than you, which I might have used to figure out some things about dealing with shit like this.”

“Shit like what?” She spat.

“Shit you don’t think you can talk about.” he said casually, purposefully in contrast to her building temper, “Shit that hurts to think about, even when it’s the only thing you can think about.”

They were quiet for a long moment before she eventually spoke up. Her gaze had moved from Eddie to the town of Hawkins speeding by out the window.

“I keep having nightmares.”

Part 6

[crushpunky]

kook!reader calls rafe for help

masterlist | kook!reader masterlist

based somewhat off the scene in tsitp. warning for some sexual references + nonsexual nudity

When y/n got a text from Emily Carlson (as in the famous Emily Carlson of Figure Eight) inviting her to hang out on her parents yacht while they were out of town, y/n was much more excited than she cared to admit. She didn’t have many girl friends other than Sarah, and even at times that was a little rocky. It wasn’t that she went out of her way to only be friends with guys, it just kind of happened that way. Topper, Kelce, and Rafe were her guys, what more friends did she need? Well, truth be told she wanted to have girl friends. Girls she could talk with about the stuff she couldn’t necessarily talk to the guys about. She wanted the good ol’ fashion girl talk, everything from guys to makeup and everything y/n liked that the boys never cared to talk about.

So, she woke up bright and early Saturday morning and put on her best swimsuit— something hot, but not too skimpy, something unique, but not too different. She shrugged her beach bag over her arm, smoothing her coverup out when she got a text from Emily saying she was outside. With a final deep breath, y/n opened the front door and walked out to Emily’s crowded white Jeep.

“Good morning, babe.” Emily said from behind the wheel, flashing a perfect smile at y/n as she approached the car. From the passenger’s seat, Ruthie stretched her legs out off the doorless frame of the Jeep, her usual look of disgust plastered on her face as she eyed y/n up and down.

“Good morning.” Y/n said back as she climbed in the back alongside two girls she recognized from back at Kook Academy, one of them with long, intricate braids and the other with bright red hair. They shot her quick smiles before turning back to their phones, talking quietly between each other as Emily put the Jeep in reverse.

“Uh, thank you for inviting me, Emily.” Y/n said, laughing a bit nervously as she adjusted her bag on her lap. Emily looked up at the rearview mirror, quirking her eyebrow up from behind her expensive looking sunglasses.

“Oh, of course. It’s really no problem.” Emily grinned, looking over at Ruthie briefly before returning her focus back on the road.

The Jeep maneuvered around the roads of Figure Eight until they finally reached the Carlsons’ boathouse. Numerous boats rested along the dock, each more and more expensive than the last. Once the car was in park, the girls immediately hopped out, grabbing their bags before excitedly skipping down the dock towards the Carlson family yacht. Y/n followed shortly behind, her eyes scanning over the details of the boat as they boarded. She’d been on plenty of yachts before (hell she spent half of her time on the Druthers) but something about this just felt different.

“You good with seltzers?” One of the girls asked, opening the refrigerator to reveal it to be entirely stocked with everything from shooters to beers to champagne. She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder, looking over at y/n as she waited for a response.

“Uh, yeah. Do you have pineapple?” Y/n asked, putting her bag down on one of the barstools that sat in front of the bartop. The girl dug around, grabbing an armful and handing y/n a pineapple one.

“Thanks…” y/n said, looking over at the girl as Ruthie, Emily, and the red haired girl grabbed drinks from her arms.

“Jaz.” The girl said, taking a drink for herself before taking a long sip. “And that’s Claire… in case you, uh, didn’t know.”

Y/n nodded, opening her drink and taking a sip, the familiar bubbling sensation and alcohol helping to calm her anxious stomach.

“Well,” Emily said, tapping her phone, the yacht immediately filling with blaring music, “let’s get this party started!”

The other girls squealed excitedly, y/n grinning as Emily shifted the boat into drive and they made their way out towards the open ocean.

The day flew by, the hours passing so quickly y/n hadn’t even realized it was nearly sunset when they made it back to the Carlsons’ dock. They’d spent hours chatting, dancing, sunbathing, and swimming in the sea, all while getting thoroughly hammered from the constant stream of alcoholic beverages thanks to Claire and her bartending abilities as well as the unrelenting sun. With the setting of the sun and cool air emerging, y/n tossed on a loose pair of shorts and a t-shirt she’d found in the back of her drawer over top of her damp swimsuit.

“Wait, wait, I’m not ready to leave yet.” Jaz slurred, her arm slung over Claire and y/n’s shoulders as they collapsed into one of the couches. Emily emerged from the cockpit, far less drunk than the rest of them, as she sunk into a chair opposite Jaz and Claire.

“I have an idea,” Ruthie said, setting her beer bottle down on the coffee table, her eyes flitting over to Emily, who smiled back at her. “Let’s play truth or dare.”

Y/n giggled at the suggestion and what she assumed was Ruthie’s joke, but by the excited looks on everyone else's faces, she knew she was serious.

“Uh, yeah sure.” Y/n agreed, Jaz shaking her arm excitedly before resting back on the couch.

“Ok, ok. I’ll go first.” Jaz said, clearing her throat a bit dramatically. “Claire, truth or dare?”

Claire grinned, her cheeks flushed from the sunny day, “uh… dare.”

“I dare you to…” Jaz looked around before her eyes landed on one of the beers sitting on the counter. “Shotgun that.”

Claire laughed, getting up before excitedly strutting over to the counter. She grabbed the keys to Emily’s car that rested nearby, stabbing the can before beginning to shotgun the drink. Everyone cheered as Claire quickly downed it before tossing it down on the floor with a holler.

“Alright,” Claire said wiping her mouth, “Ruthie, truth or dare?”

“Hmm… truth.” Ruthie said, lounging back in her chair.

“How big is Topper in the— y’know— department?” Claire said, raising her eyebrows and shaking her hips seductively. Emily laughed, hitting Ruthie’s arm as Ruthie smirked. Y/n’s eyes widened, her cheeks warming at the thought of her friend in… that way. Sure she’d heard the boys talk about stuff like this, but that was them and their exaggerated stories and egos. This was different.

“I mean…” Ruthie chuckled, beginning to pull her hands apart in some sort of pseudo-measuring device, the girls squealing as she pulled them further apart before adjusting them with a laugh. Y/n swallowed harshly, her eyes avoiding Ruthie’s as she took a drink hesitantly. As soon as the drink left her lips and her gaze shifted upwards again, Ruthie’s eyes were on her.

“Y/n,” Ruthie said with a shrug. “Truth or dare?”

Y/n blinked quickly before she answered, “uh, truth?”

A wide smile stretched across Ruthie’s lips as she leaned forward in her seat. Y/n gnawed at her bottom lip, waiting for whatever sort of (hopefully minimally) invasive question Ruthie was going to ask.

“Are the rumors about you and Rafe true?” Ruthie asked. Y/n felt her stomach shift, her eyes looking around the room at everyone else… all of which were listening intently for her answer, their lips drawn up in grins. Rumors? I mean, she’d heard whispers before, but people weren’t too keen on starting up rumors about the Kook King, Rafe Cameron. They were mostly stupid things, like in high school she made him breakup with his girlfriend (not true) or y/n had crashed Rafe’s new car and blamed it on Kelce (also not true).

“Um,” y/n swallowed, “w– what rumors?”

“That you guys are like… totally hooking up.” Ruthie scoffed as if it was common knowledge. Y/n’s heart pounded, her mouth immediately growing dry as the girls continued to stare at her in anticipation. Her and Rafe? Hooking up? They were friends… sure, she had a crush on him, but it wasn’t anything she held out any hope for. She always knew he’d never see her in that way, I mean he was Rafe fucking Cameron and she was just… his best friend.

“I—” y/n stammered, “that’s— no, that’s totally not true…”

Ruthie quirked an eyebrow, chuckling lightly as she looked over at Jaz.

“So you’ve guys like never… nothing?” Jaz asked, eyeing y/n up and down from her spot next to her.

“N–no.” Y/n said. “We’re just friends. Nothing more.”

“Hmm.” Claire hummed on y/n’s other side before resting back in her spot on the couch.

“Um… Jaz, truth or dare?” Y/n said quickly, taking a sip in an attempt to keep the game going. Thankfully, Jaz answered and the game continued on. The girls went around in circles, the four much closer friends thankfully avoiding y/n for the most part as they took their turns. Y/n sat quietly, her head still buzzing, when Emily said her name.

“What?” Y/n said, looking up from her lap. Emily laughed, tossing a bit of blonde hair over her exposed tanned skin as the rest of the girls joined her.

“Truth or dare?” Emily said.

“Oh, um…” Y/n thought back to the last round of questioning and decided that perhaps choosing “truth” again wasn’t her best option. I mean, the dares the girls had been doing the rest of night hadn’t been that bad, mostly along the lines of do a shot or give so-and-so a little dance.

“Dare.” Y/n said, which caused the girls to burst into another round of excited giggles.

“I dare you to… skinny dip. In the lake.” Emily grinned. Y/n looked around the room, chuckling nervously as the other girls nodded. The ocean was one thing, but the lake? Lake Pauline was in the middle of nowhere and notoriously gross…

“I don’t know… it’s kinda late and cold and— I mean I could just do it here—” y/n rambled, smoothing her hands down her legs.

“A dare is a dare.” Claire said with a simple shrug. Y/n let out a shaky exhale, slowly coming to the realization that there wasn’t really any easy way out of this. If she wussed out, she’d completely ruin the night, the good first impression she’d wanted to give the girls destroyed. So, with a nod, she committed.

Emily grinned, quickly grabbing her keys before everyone else followed, y/n slugging reluctantly behind.

“Chin up, y/n,” Ruthie smirked as they all climbed into the Jeep. “It’ll be totally fun.”

The short ride to the lake was anxiety-filled, y/n gnawing at her thumbnail and contemplating jumping out of the doorless Jeep, until they finally pulled up at the edge of the lake. The girls piled out, chattering excitedly as they followed y/n out to the rickety dock. Y/n spared one more glance back at the girls before stepping on the splintered wood of the dock. With each step, the structure groaned, until she finally made it to the end.

The water resting below her feet was a murky green, swirling with algae and… god only knows what else. Slowly, y/n reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head before her shorts followed, leaving her in her still wet bathing suit.

“You got this!” Jaz shouted from the shore. With a sigh, y/n reached behind her head and pulled at the strings of her top. The top fell to the ground, joining the rest of her clothes in a heap before her bottoms finally landed on top. The cool air sent a shiver down her spine, her hands instinctively wrapping around her torso as she looked down at the water once again.

“Remember, you have to touch the buoy for it to count!” Emily added. Y/n looked across the water before her eyes finally landed on the dilapidated orange buoy that bobbed a good twenty feet away from the edge of the dock. It wasn’t an impossible distance, but it was far enough to make her want to chicken out of this whole stupid dare.

“Seriously, I—” y/n groaned.

“Just do it already!” Ruthie snapped, Claire hitting her shoulder. Y/n closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath before opening once more. Then, with a step off the edge, she was under water.

The muck of the lake immediately enveloped her, the freezing cold instilling itself into her very bones as she finally broke through to the surface. Her eyes set ahead, y/n started to paddle. Slowly but surely, she made her way through the murky water until her hands finally hit the buoy. Despite the grossness of the situation, the adrenaline in the moment caused a smile to spread across y/n’s lips. She excitedly whipped around, hoping to see the girls excitedly cheering from the shore… except they weren’t on the shore anymore.

Ruthie was at the end of the dock, y/n’s clothes in hand as she started running back towards the shore. Jaz and Claire giggled as they climbed into the back of the Jeep, Emily starting the engine with a squeal. Y/n’s face fell, realization coming through as she began to desperately paddle back towards the dock.

“Hey! Hey!” Y/n shouted, her heart pounding as she swam as fast as she could… but it was too late. Ruthie had already made it back to the Jeep, clothes in hand.

“See ya, y/n!” Jaz shouted, tossing y/n’s beach bag out the back of the Jeep before Emily quickly peeled away, the girl's laughter echoing as they drove off into the night.

“Wait! Wait!” Y/n screamed as she made it to the end of the dock, her fingers desperately  clawing at the wood as she climbed out. Her shoulders shook, both from the coldness of her body and the tears that had begun to spring up as she ran along the dock.

Y/n made it to the shore, letting out a sob as she fell to the ground in front of her bag. She grabbed it, throwing it open, hoping and praying her phone was still in there. Her hands shook as she dug through it, pulling her damp towel out and wrapping it around her shoulders for some semblance of warmth. Tears blurred her vision as she finally pulled out her phone, trembling as she swiped through her contacts.

It was late, nearly midnight, and she knew there was only one person who would absolutely drop everything right now to help her— to save her. 

So, she pressed on Rafe’s contact. 

The phone barely rang once before he picked up.

“Hey, girl, what’s up?” Rafe said. Y/n let out a gasp of relief, running a hand down her face, pushing her muddy hair out of her eyes.

“I– I need you to pick me up.” Y/n stammered, her voice cracking as she spoke into the phone.

“Y/n, where are you? What’s going on? I thought you were with Emily and—” Rafe said quickly, the sound of him quickly shuffling around followed by the jingle of his keys.

“I’m at Lake Pauline. I—” y/n sobbed, “they left me here. We were— I was— they—-”

“Y/n, I need you to calm down.” Rafe said. “Take a deep breath for me, please, girl.”

Y/n tried her best to listen, her breathing harsh from the tears that flowed down her cheeks and the numbing in her body.

“Emily dared me to go skinny dipping and when I did they took my clothes,”  Y/n’s lip trembled. “God I’m so fucking stupid—”

“No, no, don’t say that.” Rafe cut her off, his car running clearly in the background. “Those girls are— and I know you told me not to call girls this but I think this is warranted— fucking bitches.”

“Shit I’m so fucking cold and—” y/n sobbed, “I’m covered in mud and that was my favorite fucking swimsuit!”

“I’m on my way please just… please just stay where you are and stay calm,” Rafe said over the sound of y/n’s teeth chattering. “Can you do that for me, please, girl?

“Y– yes.” Y/n whispered, pulling the towel closer to her body. She tried to slow her tears, but every second in the bitter cold and muck that covered her body felt like an eternity. Y/n brought her legs up to her chest, curling into herself as she waited, Rafe remaining on the phone with her as he sped through Figure Eight.

“Shit, shit, is that you? Holy fuck…” Rafe said as a pair of headlights appeared down the dirt road to Lake Pauline. Y/n blinked at the bright lights as they grew closer. Rafe quickly hung up the phone, his car barely stopping before he ran out. He gripped tightly onto the clothes he had grabbed in his panic before he’d left, a pair of sweatpants and a ratty old t-shirt he found on the floor.

“Jesus,” Rafe swore, helping y/n to her feet, his breath visible in the chilly night. Her wet towel remained wrapped firmly around her as he looked over her mud covered face streaming with tears. With a sob, y/n buried her head in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her quickly, moving them up and down in hopes of warming her trembling body.

“I’m such a fucking idiot.” Y/n mumbled into Rafe’s chest, him pulling away to look at her for a moment before he started tugging a t-shirt over her head. She tried to lift her arms, but the cold made her arms feel like they weighed tons.

“No, don’t. Just… let me help you.” Rafe sighed, maneuvering her arm through the sleeves of the t-shirt, the towel dropping. Y/n clawed at it in an attempt to pull it back to her body and save herself some semblance of decency she had, but Rafe swatted her hand away as he brought the sweatpants to her feet.

“That wet towel is only going to make you colder, a’ight? I don’t give a fuck, you’re fucking trembling.” Rafe sighed. Y/n grabbed onto his shoulder for balance as she stepped into the sweatpants. He pulled them up quickly before standing up, looking over her still shaking body. Without a second thought, Rafe brought his sweatshirt over his head before pulling it down over her own. Once it finally settled on her, y/n wrapped her arms around her body before letting out another sob. With a sigh, Rafe pulled her into his chest, allowing her to cry in his arms.

“It’s ok, I got you.” He said, soothing a hand down y/n’s back. He kneeled down to grab her bag, slinging it over his shoulder before he led her back to the warmth of his Jeep. He tossed her bag in the back before scooping his arms underneath her knees and lifting her into the passenger seat. 

The heat in Rafe’s car blasted as he rounded the car and climbed into the passenger seat. The two of them drove in silence, y/n looking out the window and Rafe sparing her the occasional glance. Once they made it to Tanneyhill, the silence continued as y/n climbed out of the car without a word. Rafe trailed close behind her as she entered the front door, climbing up the stairs and walking down the hallway until they made it to Rafe’s bedroom.

“Take a shower, I’ll get you something to change into, a’ight? Take your time.” Rafe said, smoothing a hand down y/n’s back before pressing a quick kiss to the top of her mud caked hair. Y/n nodded, trudging into Rafe’s bathroom.

As soon as she stepped in, she turned to the mirror. Her skin was covered in muck, her hair tangled in a way that made her doubt she’d ever get the knots out, and her under eyes were a puffy, darkened mess. Closing her eyes, y/n took a deep breath before she began to slip out of Rafe’s clothes. With each layer shed, more mud covered skin was revealed.

She turned the shower on, the steam quickly filling the room. With a sniffle, y/n stepped into the warm stream. She wiped her nose as she watched the muddy water fall down the drain. She stood there for she didn’t know how long, watching each layer of dirt and grime wash off before finally reaching for the expensive shampoo Rafe used. She squeezed out a generous amount, the subtle vanilla scent filling her lungs as she began to lather it into her hair.

She worked it through, following it with body wash before applying the conditioner she’d convinced him to get (what could she say, it made his hair look good). Once the water turned off, the exhaustion of the night really started to sink in. Y/n quickly dried off before sliding open the door with a yawn, her towel wrapped around her as steam billowed out into Rafe’s bedroom. Rafe sat on his bed, his head resting against his headboard and legs stretched out. At his feet, a pair of boxers and an oversized t-shirt rested, folded nicely, alongside an array of different combs and hairbrushes he had stolen from his sisters’ bathrooms.

“Thanks,” y/n whispered as she grabbed the clothes, Rafe simply nodded at her with a small but concerned smile. She went back into the bathroom, quickly slipping into the fresh clothes before emerging once more. With a sigh, y/n sat on the end of the bed before picking up one of the combs. She began to work it through her hair, her fatigued arms making each pass through feel impossibly more difficult than the last.

“You alright?” Rafe whispered, causing y/n to turn to him.

“Yeah,” y/n muttered, yawning as she dropped her hands into her lap, the comb still stuck in her hair. “I’ll be ok. I’m just really tired.”

“I can do it, if you want.” Rafe said, scooting along the bed to sit closer to her, gesturing to her still very much tangled hair. Y/n nodded, shuffling to sit in front of him, his long legs resting on either side of her. Hesitantly, Rafe reached for the comb. He slowly began to brush through her hair, his touch clumsy but gentle as he began to detangle her hair.

“Thank you, Rafe.” Y/n whispered. Rafe stopped combing through her hair for a moment, his hand falling to rest on the side of her cheek, turning her face to look at him.

“I’d do anything for you, you know that right?” Rafe said lowly, his eyes looking over her tired face. A small smile spread across y/n’s lips before she turned, wrapping her arms around Rafe’s torso and resting her head on his chest. His hand smoothed down her back, allowing her to relax into his lap before he began to comb the back of her hair. Before he knew it, y/n’s breathing slowed, her eyes fluttering shut as she dozed off.

Y/n didn’t know what time it was when she finally woke up. The sun was already beginning to filter through the curtains, bathing Rafe’s bedroom in a familiar golden glow. With a groan, y/n sat up, instinctually running a hand through her untangled hair. Rafe laid on his stomach, his freckled, tanned back rising and falling slowly as he slept peacefully. Y/n looked around once more before she noticed the pile of clothes resting on the foot of the bed: her shorts, t-shirt, and her favorite swimsuit from last night freshly washed. She crawled over to them, grabbing her clothes before lifting them up to her nose and inhaling deeply… the familiar scent of Rafe’s detergent filling her lungs.

[zeppelinlvr]

Two Reverse

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: You, Dean, and Sam go after a demon on short notice, you end up getting hurt in the process.

Felt sad, wrote angst sorry guys. Also, I know Andromalius is a higher up demon having 36 legions of demons at his service (I think?) and I know it's unlikely you’d be dealing with him as the process of even trying to summon him would be so complicated, but demonology is so complex just pretend him going after you is reasonable. Also i’ve been on an Adrianne Lenker kick lately so bear with me. Thank you all for the support on all my fics! 💗💗

Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending cus I can't write sad endings), cursing, fluff.

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You and Sam were desperately researching, trying to find out what demon was targeting these people, four had died already and the two of you had made little progress. Dean was out interviewing people and trying to get anything he could about what you were dealing with.

“Sam, I think I know what we’re dealing with” you told him “I looked into the victims and two of them were thieves, not just shoplifting, they broke into people's houses and stole valuable items, and two of the other victims were just assholes, they were both bullies in high school and were super entitled”

“I’m not following, how are they connected” Sam asked

“The demon Andromalius goes after people who are wicked and theives, he’s not in a lot of the common demonology books is probably why we hadn't made the connection sooner but he’s mentioned in The Goetia, the Lesser key of Solomon” You explained

“Best explanation we have, I’ll start looking into how to exorcize him” Sam replied

“I’ll call Dean and we can figure out a plan to draw him in” you told Sam.

Dean was headed back to the motel, having little luck with his interviews. He felt his phone buzzing in his pocket and saw your name as the caller id and the stupid picture you had taken of yourself and made your contact photo. He smiled at your dumb expression before answering the call.

“hey, I didn’t find-“ he started but was cut off by your quick rambling, you were excited to finally have figured out what you were dealing with.

You explained to Dean what you had told Sam, then asked “we need to figure out a way to lure him into us, Sam’s researching right now but I wanted to see if you had any ideas”

“Well, I’m a thief and I’m probably wicked so we could use me as bait, figure out how to get him near us, then I’ll distract him while you and Sam try to kill him” Dean suggested

Your stomach knotted at his plan, you didn’t want him to put himself in danger “Dean, I don’t want to use you as bait, we can think of something else” you said trying to hide the worry in your voice.

“I can handle myself sweetheart” he told you “I’m almost back to the motel, I’ll talk to you more then” he hung up the phone after you exchanged goodbyes.

As he said, Dean arrived in the motel room a couple of minutes later. you gave him a brief hug upon his arrival, not out of the ordinary, he got used to the fact you were touchier than him and he was okay with it, never admitting it but he enjoyed being hugged by you.

You explained Deans plan to Sam, making sure to comment on how bad of an idea you thought it was, hoping Sam would also immediately shoot it down.

“We might not have any other choice, I’m getting signs of him a few miles from here, we need to go now” Sam grimaced

You sighed, worry filling your body but you chose to push it away, frantically getting ready to leave with Dean and Sam.

Dean hurled to a stop in front of a mildly secluded house, when you stepped out of the car the three of you heard things breaking and screams coming from inside. You all quickly ran to the door, Dean not bothering to pick the lock but rather just choosing to kick it down.

The scene in front of you was horrific, there was a woman, who had already died, lying on the floor of the living room. You heard a struggle down the hall and Dean made his way there, signaling you and Sam to stay out of sight in order to try to get some element of surprise.

When Andromalius caught sight of Dean he dropped the man who he had nearly killed. Dean yelled out “I’m here you asshole, come get me”

“No, it’s not you I’m after” Andromalius hissed

Dean's expression faltered slightly but he tried his best to keep the demon distracted “I steal all the time, and I’m definitely not a good person” he shrugged

Sam had an opening to the demon, he figured it was now or never, so he ran out from the spot he was hiding in. He was stopped before he had a chance to stab the demon. Sam found himself pushed against the wall with a harsh force.

“Where’s the girl?” Andromalius said, a dark expression growing on his face.

Dean clenched his jaw, trying to hide his worry “She’s an angel compared to me, you don’t want her” he defended

You snuck your way out of your spot, and managed to grab the knife Sam had dropped. You had your arm in the air, ready to stab him when he quickly whipped around, smirking when his face met yours.

You felt a force choking you, and slowly lifting you off the ground, tears welled in your eyes and you desperately tried to kick and fight back.

Then the searing pain came, ripping through your abdomen. You choked out a scream and tears poured down your face, you tried to kick and claw at him as the panic truly set in about how this could end. You cried out as the strength left your body, your vision blurring.

Dean and Sam were both struggling with everything they had. Dean had managed to get ahold of the knife, and with Andromalius’s focus stuck on you, Dean stabbed him in his back.

The demon had been killed and you fell to the floor, his force no longer holding you up. You choked and gasped for air. You were a mess, crying and panic still coursing through you.

Dean ran over to you, kneeling beside you and cradling you in his lap.

“Hey, it’s okay sweetheart, you did so good” he tried to comfort, his voice shaking.

He quickly flung off his jacket, pressing it to your abdomen, you hadn’t noticed the severity of the cut from how panic stricken you were, but you were losing a lot of blood.

“Sammy call 911” Dean yelled at him

“you’re gonna be okay, just keep looking at me, okay” he told you, trying to keep you calm.

The pain of the gash was becoming more prominent as your adrenaline wore off, you felt yourself growing weaker.

“Dean, thank you for always looking out for me” you choked out, it hurt to speak but you needed to tell him “You and Sam are the best things to happen to me” you tried to hold back the stinging tears, a lump in your throat. “I love you so much Dean”

“Hey no, don’t give me a goodbye speech, you’re going to be okay” he said shakily, a few tears running down his face.

“An ambulance is on the way, keep applying pressure” Sam told Dean, as he made his way over to you, helping Dean support your body.

You fought so hard to keep your eyes open and to keep listening to Dean voice, his reassurance that you were going to be okay, it was just a scratch, and that you were so tough.

You fought so hard, but his voice was fading, you felt your eyes droop before your body went limp in Deans arms.

“nono fuck” he whispered “I still need you” “Someone fucking help” he was now yelling “Castiel, some fucking angel save her”

"Why the hell did it go after her, I'm the one it should've gone after" Dean sobbed

"Dean, demons don't exactly see a grey area, there's probably something that happened on a hunt and he found that as an excuse to go after her, don't start blaming yourself" Sam told him, a few tears slipping down his cheeks.

Sobs racked Deans body as he heard the familiar flutter of wings. He was instantly yelling at the angel “fucking help her, I’m not letting her die on me”

“Dean, she’s going to be okay” Cas said and made his way over to you, placing a gentle hand on your forehead and began to heal your wounds.

You opened your eyes groggily, after your vision cleared, you were confused at the sight of the angel above you and Dean and Sam’s tear-stained faces.

You quickly pulled your shirt up to inspect where the gash had been, only to find nothing there, although your clothing was still stained with blood.

You frantically scrambled up and engulfed Dean in a hug.

“Hi sweet girl, I told you you’d be okay” he choked out

You allowed yourself to cry, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed harshly.

Deans heart sunk upon hearing your pained cries, he was already blaming himself for not intervening sooner.

After it sunk in that Cas had saved you, you whipped around to face him, his face ridden with what seemed like concern. You moved over to him to hug him, still sobbing like there was no tomorrow. blabbering out your thanks to him. He didn’t exactly understand what was happening, but he attempted to hug you back, gently wrapping his arms around you.

“You’re okay now Y/n, that’s what matters” he told you

You nodded in response, trying to stop your crying but your attempts didn’t do much, you were so overwhelmed, you were scared, thankful, and a little embarrassed by your sappy speech.

You turned back to Dean “I’m sorry for getting cheesy, I thought I was gonna kick the bucket and I needed to tell you a few things” you laughed awkwardly, still lightly crying.

He shook his head and brought you back in for a hug “I uh, feel like, me too” he struggled, wanting to tell you he loved you but he couldn’t get the words out.

“I know Dean” you nodded

You heard a siren in the distance, none of you wanted to explain the situation. Cas was gone in an instant, you, Sam and Dean were quickly making your way to the door. Dean carrying you in his arms despite your insistence that you were able to walk.

Sam drove and you sat squished next to Dean in the passenger seat.

“Sammy, I promise I’ll give you a hug when we get back to the motel” you told him, your nose stuffed up from how much you’d be crying. Sam laughed lightly in response.

Dean pulled you into him, holding onto you tightly as if you were going to slip away from him, swearing to himself to watch out for you.

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