#it’s been 2 weeks since I mailed it.

[sanchoyo]

maybe I don’t understand how mail works but why is the package I sent to California up in Pennsylvania rn in transit…girl that’s the opposite way ur supposed to be going. Should’ve gone sideaways not up…. Ur getting further away….😟

[scribblescrabbledepartment]

fishes for the homos i mean homies

[ID: nine fish with collaged scales of different colored and patterned paper, each with glittery fins.]

[gracetoldmeto]

@temporarydaydream sent in this question ages ago and I loved it so much that I wanted my answer to do it justice. 

Dude, I ate this question up I loved it soooo much, I will be going hugely overboard on this answer because I have THOUGHTS haha

For reference, this is the post...

Also, I know you didn't ask about Matt but Im including him here too (for good reason, you’ll see) and ALSO I am nowhere near as well versed in L as I am with Mello and Matt, so his description may be a bit more brief.

....

Wammy’s Boys and Asexuality Headcanons

(ft: L, Mello, & Matt)

...

L:  Aromantic/Asexual (Sex-repulsed)

Oddly enough, L was the most difficult to write for.

L knows that the title of “L” needs to be what everyone thinks him to be. Very little emotional personal life, a need to be perfect or “pure” in a sense (something something Lawlight foot scene and how its a biblical reference yada yada) and a career-focused life dedicated to detective work.

This outlook was likely introduced to him, as well as the other children at Wammy’s at a very young age, but L knows he is simply best fitted to fulfill that standard. He took on the title because it worked for him. He is able to function with less "distraction" than others simply because a romantic or sexual connection is not what he personally values. Only justice is.

Which means he chooses to value refining his skills in his free time, rather than seeing it as work. That's also why Lawlight exists. Light is the only other person able to keep up with L, and both of them value each others intellect in a personal and possibly emotional way. L's values are in his work and no one was ever able to really empathetically understand him until Light. And in a way that understanding and appreciation is intimate enough, especially for L.

...

Mello: Demiromantic/Asexual 

Like L, Mello’s lofty standards for self-achievement are reflected in his sexuality. And a big reason as to how Mello is able to dedicate his entire life to his cause is because he does not have to “deal with” the “affliction of sexual attraction” (if I were to put it in his words). 

However, unlike L, Mello is not sex-repulsed in the slightest. Well, not in a typical sense. Mello has a pretty active sex life but not for the reason some onlookers assume him to be. Mello specifically and exclusively uses his attractive appearance and sex appeal as a tool and ONLY as a tool. Whether it be to obtain information for a job, or just as a no strings attached stress reliever, Mello has gotten in the routine of using sex for a non-sexual purpose because of the one-up it gives him. It him feel powerful and in control in an area many others would feel exposed. 

Consequently, Mello actively avoids sex in his personal relationships because the idea of a sexual relationship has been tainted due to his unhealthy use of the act in his line of work. And that can also be difficult with his demiromantic alignment, if he doesn’t know how to express his feelings. So I think Mello represses. A lot. Which brings me to his relationship with Matt.

I’ll get into Matt’s details next, but Mello is in fact capable of having romantic feelings for Matt, but his actions have left him stuck without a way to communicate that in a way Matt understands. We have an epic stalemate of love languages between the boys and it’s often a train wreck of a miscommunication because neither is capable of meeting the other’s romantic needs without compromise. And Mello already doesn’t do that well.

Mello already does not feel sexual attraction to begin with (even if we ignore his questionable work relationship with sex) and Matt would never dream of trusting a stranger to share a bed with him. They are circles of a Venn diagram that will never naturally intersect.

...

Matt: Greyromantic/Demisexual

Ah Matt. I see him as very similar to myself, so I usually base a lot of my HCs for him around my experiences.

Matt is complicated. He is Mello’s foil in a lot of cases, but in terms of their sexualities, they conflict in more ways than they agree. Specifically because Matt exclusively cannot feel inclined to have sex with anyone unless he knows and feels safe with them. And that is rooted in a lot of trust issues, especially including when Mello abandoned him at Wammy’s. But specifically, Matt would much prefer to feel safe in everything he does, and being in a vulnerable state without trusting the opposite party is just not something Matt can do comfortably.

So when we look at that in the context of his near-lifelong relationship with Mello we run into a massive problem. Matt wants to express his feelings in a more sexually intimate way, whereas Mello actively avoids that in personal relationships in which he is emotionally and romantically invested in. The only way Mello intends to communicate intamacy is in asking Matt for help in his work. And that leads to A LOT of the tension we see between them. 

If Matt wasn't complicated enough, his crushes are usually people he knows as close friends, but not always. However the shortest crush Matt has ever had was about 4 months. The longest (excluding Mello) was 4 years and was on a friend he lost touch with after an unrelated falling out of their friendship.

He almost never acts on his feelings but doesn’t exclusively fit the demiromantic description. The demi label confuses him immensely and is the source of a lot of insecurity on top of his confusion and anxiety around his relationship with Mello, so he falls more into the grey category.

... 

***I am not an expert in this (I’m still learning) these are personal observations and opinions as a questioning demi if I say anything offensive, please let me know and I will correct it, I mean no ill intent here just well-intended character analysis***

Hope this answered your question! Thank you SO much for asking, I had a lot of fun writing this up <3

fin

[misandrygalore]

u know what tho my cousin bought me brand new airpods w his first paycheck for christmas to thank me for taking care of him when he was a kid and i cried so hard when i got home and now i’m gonna watch him graduate next weekend and im gonna ugly cry so bad and then we’re going to the beach before he leaves for college and im really really gonna cry then

[katskorner]

oouuuuuhhhhh the curse is active once again 💀

[nitewingbabi]

↳ please respond…I showed you my cock            ⚤ ghostface x female!reader  【 18+ ONLY — Minors DNI 】 ✉ taking requests part 2 ▻ a pretty mouth

2023 was a different year for everyone. Covid was 2020's big killer, and now ghostface seemed to be claiming 2023 as his year. You were one of his taunting targets. Text messages, phone calls, notes in your locker or mail. He had even been in your room once to leave a message on your mirror.

‘I like the red ones’ which was referring to your panties that you were trying on the other day after doing some much needed retail therapy with some friends. 

Your group was getting smaller and smaller as more students were murdered, kidnapped or not heard from in weeks. Curfew was getting shorter that soon enough school was sure to be cancelled until the police solved whoever was running around killing everyone. 

It’s Tuesday night and you just finished showering, you had been blowdrying your hair for the last 20 minutes. The recent news far from your thoughts, the truck load of school work that was due was giving you a migraine. Finally your hair was dried and you were ready to slip into bed and start your assignment. You turned your TV on, immediately putting on your current Netflix show that you were binging. 

Eyes flicking back and forth from your laptop screen to your TV. You hadn’t checked your phone since you started to shower and noticed you had multiple messages from an unknown number. But it wasn’t unknown to you. You knew exactly who it was. 

Unknown Number +1**********

➤ quiet night? 

➤ parents aren’t home. 

➤ neighbours are out of town. 

You had only had one actual physical contact with ghostface which was two weeks ago. He chased you around your house until your neighbours came barging in and he ran away. Ever since you had your parents change the locks and debate whether or not to send you across the country to live with your aunt and uncle until it was all over. You pleaded that they didn’t and instead they paid for a self defence class for you. 

Your phone buzzed again, drawing your attention away from the TV. 

Unknown Number +***********

➤ i liked the little show you put on for me the other day. 

➤ wish i had been there to ruin those little red panties 

You weren’t sure what to write back, you sat there debating if you should even write anything back and entertain this creep. 

Just as you put your phone down, the screen lit up and the room echoed from your ringtone. 

Unknown Caller 

You weren’t sure if you should pick up, but something inside you made you do it. 

“Hello?” You hesitantly asked as you held the device up to your ear. Waiting to hear that deep voice that you couldn’t recognise. 

“Hello y/n. Enjoying your show?” Your eyes met your TV screen to see your show playing still on low volume. You turned the TV off, quickly standing to your feet to look out your window. It was barely lit outside from the streetlight and nothing seemed to stick out like a sore thumb. 

“Who is this? Why are you tormenting me?” You had asked the question too many times that it was just routine, you’d hope that one time he would budge and just tell you. 

“The question isn’t who I am. the question is where I am.” You heart began to race, eyes searching endlessly out your window, he had to be close by. You suddenly felt the booty shorts and crop top that you had slid into wasn’t the best attire to be wearing at home alone whilst being stalked by a psycho. 

“Look asshole, you wanna play games. I can play.” You weren’t sure what you exact plan was, but it was the first thing to pop into your head. Were you terrified of ghostface? Yes. But did it also arouse you how much he called you, texted you, the fact he had probably seen you naked countless times, even possibly pleasured himself to the sight of you. 

“Oh yeah? In the mood for monopoly?” He chuckled darkly on the other end, you could only hope he was still watching you from where he was. With your free hand you danced your fingers down your torso, dipping into the waistband of your shorts and panties and itching your way to your centre that was throbbing. You could hear a deep growl on the other end. 

You chuckled into the phone, knowing he was definitely watching you now. You breathed a soft moan as your fingertip circles your juicy clit, using your arousal as lube to slick your finger around the bundle of nerves. Your moans grew louder and your mouth fell agape as you began walking backwards onto your bed, allowing yourself to fall back into the plush mattress and send yourself into a bliss. 

You had forgotten about ghostface, your phone falling from your ear to beside your head. 

“Hey!” Your eyes popped open as you remembered he was still on the other end. You quickly grabbed it, slowing your circles to keep yourself on edge. 

“I want to hear your pretty cries when you cum, I want you to cum to me and only me. You got that princess?” His words were sharp and threatening, just like the blade he used to murder your friends. God you were getting turned on and touching yourself to a psycho killer. The unexpected happened next. A snapchat notification came through. 

Gfce23 added you on Snapchat! 

It was him. It had to be. You accepted, still working yourself and slipping a finger inside your dripping cunt to get more arousal on your clit. 

Immediately a video came through, along with a few photos. You bit your lip as you thought about what could possibly be on the other end. You had to take the chance though, you were too far down the rabbit hole. 

“Open them, I want you to see what you fucking do to me.” His voice was hoarse and breathless, you could tell he was jerking himself on the other end or something. You clicked on the purple square. Your eyes met a hard cock, veiny and thick. The tip an enraged red with a slight purple tinge. A single drop of precum oozing out the slit and his black leather glove wrapped around his cock. 

The video began playing and his hand jerked his cock slowly, throaty moans echoing as the video continued to play and that drop of precum dripped down his pinkish shaft. A small bush of pubic hair that led to a faint snail trail and a set of what you could only guess were abs. 

His hand got faster and his moans got faster as he pumped himself hard in his hand, but before you could view more you heard your parents car pulling into the driveway with their faint music blaring. 

Ghostface was in the back of your mind as you quickly closed your phone and got settled into bed. Ghostface didn’t call you back, didn’t text you and didn’t send anything else to you that night. But that does’t mean he let you off easy. 

It had only been a few days since you last heard from ghostface, but when you did you were surprised to see the message he had sent through was not his usual taunting, threatening approach. 

Unkown Number +**********

➤ i want to see that pretty pussy spread out tonight 

➤ leave your window unlocked

➤ i know your parents wont be home

➤ hope you like it rough princess

[nothorses]

today in material transphobia:

my insurance asks for my AGAB as well as my gender, then uses my AGAB as my de-facto gender marker on all documents without telling me.

my adderall (which I have to order by mail because I'm on an island) is then stuck in "processing" for a week, and I am forced to call just to find out why. Its because the gender my psychiatrist and pharmacy use is "male", but my insurance has me listed as "female", so they can't give me my medication.

when I call my insurance to fix this, a man argues with me about why I need to be listed as "female" even though my gender has been "male", legally, to the state as well as the federal government, since before I signed up for this insurance in the first place. he says there are "internal biological differences", then that people cannot access or get coverage for care they need without the "female" gender marker- pap smears, abortion, birth control, etc.

so now my options are:

1. change my gender marker to "female" for all of my medical information/documentation, including dental (bc it's the same insurance), even though the vast majority of my medical care has nothing to do with my AGAB- I don't need to be "female" to need adderall, for example- or

2. give up all access to and coverage for medical needs related to my reproductive system.

anyway, I got my gender marker changed to "male" with my insurance, since that was the fastest way to get my medication. I guess we'll see what happens when I need a pap smear next.

[relto]

stalks tracking page. progress please

[scarrletmoon]

okay i know the Discourse™️ has been going on for way too long at this point, but

i think some people outside of the OFMD fandom don’t actually get why we’re particularly annoying about this show

OFMD is not the first queer show to ever exist. if anything, it's a late entry in decades of queer media. over a year and a half since the first few episodes aired, everyone knows that OFMD is queer. that doesn't make it particularly special

but back in March? this is the trailer that dropped in February of 2022, 2 weeks before the premier. if you're used to seeing queer chemistry in shows that aren't intended to be queer, you might see the hints between Ed and Stede here. but to most people? it's just a silly little pirate comedy. just guys being dudes. the trailer doesn't even hint at the other 2 canonical queer relationships in the show -- the closest it gets suggesting romance is the music and the pink in the poster

so when people watched this show in March 2022, they went into it expecting subtext and nothing else. to them, it was like watching Sherlock or Supernatural or Merlin in the 2010s. if you were in any of those fandoms -- especially Sherlock and Supernatural -- you know what it was like; constant jokes at our expense, being mocked for creating explicit fanwork, made fun of by the creators and within the show itself. if we saw queer subtext, that was our problem. this was a time when you pretended NOT to be in fandom, for fear of ridicule. we kept our fanwork to ourselves, we DID NOT share it with the cast, and we accepted that our favourite ships would probably never be canon. maybe one day, if we were lucky, we'd have a show where the subtext wasn't mockery as much as deliberate foreshadowing -- but that had to be YEARS away

right?

OFMD was never billed as a queer show, not in the beginning. there was no LGBTQ+ tag on (HBO) Max, it wasn't on anyone's list of upcoming queer shows in 2022, it flew under the radar through most of its first season. this was a show about pirates, and sure, some of them were queer. but not the LEADS. if you think they're romantically involved, that's must be fandom brain poisoning

except the 9th episode aired, and they kissed. and the show said "you're not crazy for thinking they have chemistry because they really do. it's been a romance this whole time". and in the 10th episode, Stede realizes that he's in love

(not mandating you watch this clip if you don't care for the show, but there's something that feels particularly earth shattering about no one saying the word gay but knowing that Stede's realizing he is, that it's completely unambiguous and explicit in a way that only straight romances are usually allowed to be)

this is why people freaked out about this show. no one knew. even the creator, David Jenkins, was surprised when WE were surprised that it was gay for real -- he set out to write a love story, using all the tried and true beats of a rom com. he'd never even heard of the term queerbaiting. he looked at historical Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet and thought "oh, there's something here" and just...wrote that, with very little fanfare, like it was inevitable. like it was obvious. of course Jim and Pam end up together. of course Buttercup and Westley end up together. what kind of disappointing ending would it be if You've Got Mail ended with the main characters just going their separate ways?

so of course Ed and Stede are in love

look, i get it. we're annoying and won't shut the fuck up about this show that seems mediocre at best. i watched the whole thing back in march, thought "huh, that was cool" and was sure that i'd forget about it in a few days

an hour after looking at fanart on twitter, i was lost in the fucking sauce

there's just so much to unpack from a mere 10 episodes. it covers racism, toxic masculinity, gender expression, sexuality, trauma and abuse. and i don't think we should overlook the fact that the non-white characters in this show get to be fully human in a way i haven't seen in my favourite shows in recent memory

additionally, most OFMD are 25 or older. we're not people who've been spoiled by queer rep, who don't get how hard it used to be, how you'd have to grovel for scraps, how shipping and fanfiction was a way to find queer rep where we thought there never would be. we've been here. we're annoying about this show because for a lot of us, it's the first time we've been treated like our queerness isn't an anomaly that needs to be relegated to its own section, that needs to be praised for the bare minimum of acknowledging that we exist. it's not pulling punches to avoid scaring away a straight audience. it just is.

OFMD for me is like when i watched Black Panther for the first time and realized that this is what white people felt all the time. have there been other black superhero movies? of course! does Disney fucking suck? BOY does it. but that was the first time i got to sit in a movie theater and watch a mainstream film that looked at Africa and said "look at how beautiful you are, exactly as you are"

and idk. i think that's really cool

[eternally-racing]

superbowl sunday | logan sargeant

pairing: logan x reader

genre: fluff

wk: 1k (short n sweet xoxo)

summary: you want to do something special for your homesick boyfriend when he misses one of america's favorite unofficial holidays.

----

With the new season just around the corner, the Williams team was in full force putting together their finishing touches on pre-season testing and meetings. Unfortunately for you, that meant that Logan was putting in long hours at the factory, with the most you’re seeing of him sometimes being just his imprint on the bedsheets in the morning since he leaves so early in the morning and comes back even long after you go to sleep. 

Moving to Oxfordshire was a big step for the both of you. For Logan it was a no-brainer, even choosing to buy a place instead of renting helped show his commitment to the team, and how could you have possibly said no to him when he asked for you to join him? After all, in his words you are is home, no matter where he is in the world. While Logan may be used to living the European life, moving away from your all-American home was definitely a big culture shock. There were of course fun new experiences - first time getting lost in a new city, trying new cafes that you knew you would subsequently come to every week, and seeing the beautiful sights. At the same time there were the moments that absolutely tore you up to be away from home - Logan cried as he held you on Thanksgiving when all you really wanted was to be able to eat your mom’s Turkey stuffing, but then he subsequently called your mom and got her to send you a frozen portion in the mail. It only arrived 2 weeks later and there was a definite chance that the stomachache you got afterwards may have been due to it being slightly spoiled by the time it made it to your dinner table, but the action itself definitely warmed your heart. Even though you were definitely the baby when it came to missing home, you knew that there were a couple of days that got to him and today was definitely one of them. 

Logan’s back ached as he finally got out of what felt like a 10 hour long meeting about company branding that he couldn’t care less about. The one thing he’s grateful for is the plethora of window panes at the factory - if he’s going to be stuck inside all day it’s at least nice to see the sun rise and set each day over the horizon. There are some days where Formula 1 doesn’t feel as worth it, where he wishes that he was in his backyard in Florida playing soccer with his brother, his dad on grill while his mom nags them about not wearing enough sunscreen, but on days like that he at least gets to see you, usually. If only he had time to see you right now. If he rushed back to your apartment right now he would probably at least catch you getting ready for bed, but it feels selfish to keep you up sometimes. He knows just how much you sacrificed to be here with him, including working a remote job in a timezone that meant that you were up at the worst of hours for team meetings.

He expects to walk into a dark apartment, just like he has for the last 3 weeks - but instead he’s met with a completely different sight. 

It’s you, which is a sight enough to bring a smile to his face. But it’s not just you, but you’re surrounded by a a scene that he can only describe in two words. While he’s rendered speechless, you’re happy to steal the words from his mouth. 

“Happy Superbowl Sunday, babe.” 

Your apartment has all the staples from back home; chicken wings, seven layer dip, beer. If Logan’s  nutritionist took a look at your dining table right now he would probably have a heart attack, but Logan could care less about that right now. 

“I really lucked out that both teams have the color red so I only had to buy one color of balloons to cover my bases.” you giggle as Logan picks you up and spins you around. There’s tears starting to pool at the corner of his eyes and you understand the emotion you see in them all too well.

"I -, wow - , how did you - , I can't believe -" the words keep stumbling out of Logan's mouth as he's just in complete awe of what you pulled off for him.

You both take a second to cherish the moment, that the two of you get to do this together after so many weeks of not seeing each other. But soon after that you both settle onto the couch with more snacks than you could possibly ever consume surrounding the two of you on all sides. 

You’re actually only watching a recording of the game with how the time differences worked out, and it’s actually Monday night, late enough to be almost Tuesday in England by the time you turn on the television - but Logan is far too sleep deprived and overworked to notice. There’s definitely a non-zero chance he falls asleep by the time the 3rd quarter even starts, but you’re happy to at least fall asleep together as you cuddle into his side.

“Also we are cheering for…” Your voice trails off as a question since you actually have no idea who Logan likes out of these two teams.

“The 49ers babe, you would love them too if you knew the backstory” 

His comment makes you curious and while you’re scared of the can of worms you may be opening of being mansplained the history of the entire NFL, you ask him to explain and luckily he keeps it short and sweet.

“You always love cheering for an underdog, Y/N,” Logan says with a smile.

--

author's note: my new roman empire is the fact that logan was cheering for brock purdy in the super bowl 🥲 hope you all enjoyed this lil bit of logan fluff, until next time! - Em 🩷

[cozymaples]

job offer (part 2) | steve raglan x reader

a/n: hi hi!! he's back.....! also, you literally do not have to have read part 1 for this, but that link is right here in case you decide to! contains: degradation, bondage, breeding kink, power imbalance, afab!reader, age gap (however the reader is not a minor of course!) DUB!CON, very brief, reader says she doesn't like something when answering a question, but does, and clearly gives consent following.

word count: 2.1k

It had been two weeks since you’d seen Steve. You’d started your new job, as promised, but you couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t called you, and you couldn’t help your mind from racing. Did he bend every girl looking for a job over his desk like that? Is that why he has such a high success rate? Your typing grows more aggressive on the keyboard in front of you as your thoughts wander, finally sending your last e-mail of the day. 

To be fair, your new job was good. Great, even. You’d made a great first impression on your boss without fucking him, and people seemed to like you well enough. You collect your belongings, heading out for the day with a sigh. Giving a small wave and grin to your coworkers on your departure, you finally exhale all of your stress as you leave the building. You check your phone, reading the time. 5:15. You knew that Steve’s hours of operation were at least until six, so what was the harm in dropping by?

When you arrive, it’s desolate. The last few employees are packing up their things, and suddenly you feel like a burden-not wanting to hassle anyone. You opt for a middle ground, walking up to the receptionist window with a warm grin. “Hi,” You say. The woman looks back at you, silent. Irritated. “I just, uh, I was wondering if Mr.Raglan was still here?” The woman looks..confused. “Sure is,” She says, assuming you're a late appointment. “You head on back, though. He’ll lock up.” You can tell she doesn’t want to be there a minute longer, so you nod gratefully. “Of course, thank you so much.” You grin at her, and she offers a small one back. 

Making your way down the hall, you see the bold letters of his name embellished on his door, which is ajar. You knock lightly, sticking your head in first, cautiously. He looks up from the stack of papers he’s got piled on his desk, meeting your gaze. His expression goes from stressed to amused..perceptive. “Hey, you.” He says, sing-songy. His eyes return back to his papers, and your brows furrow at the reaction. You take the opportunity to walk to the chair in front of his desk, plopping yourself down as you fold your hands in your lap. You’d expected more of a reaction, and he can tell. He sighs, a smug grin adorning his features as he looks up at you, finally putting the papers down to settle. 

“Job not what you were lookin’ for?” He asks. 

“You didn’t call me.”

“Didn’t know you wanted me to.”

You sputter, scoffing at his words. “You didn’t-you didn’t know?” You repeat. He shakes his head, elbows on his desk as he holds up his hands with a defensive shrug.  

He has to be joking.

“You have all of my contact information, I mean-” Is your next line of defense. He raises his hand in a ‘stop’ motion to quiet you, easing you into silence. “And you..wanted me to..go through a private file of employee confidential information for..what, exactly?” You can’t tell if he’s testing you, but the way your clit is throbbing makes you want to ace it. “To fuck me.” You say, plainly. Clearly there’s no other way around this, and if he wants to hear it, so be it. He chortles, exhaling harshly through his nose. 

“To fuck you.”

“Yes, but if there’s something funny about that to you, then I can just-” You start, aggressively, wondering why you even came here in the first place. “Shhh,” He hushes, raising his hand gently once more. He stands up, closing the door to his office. You swallow harshly. He walks slowly back to his desk, coolly, speaking softly to you. “Come here,” He says, gently. You’re confused at the sudden change of heart, but oblige anyway. You can’t ignore how badly your pussy needs him anymore. You walk around his desk, standing where his chair would normally be. It’s pushed back behind him, to grant you more room. He stands in front of you, towering over you as he cups your face in his hands. You take a step back, gazing up at him, doe-eyed as he studies your features. “Pretty thing like you came all the way back here for me?” He asks. 

So it was a test.

“Yes.” You say, nodding. 

“Good.” He says. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before lowering himself to his knees, guiding you up onto his desk as he sinks lower. When you’re finally adjusted, he’s knelt in front of you, large palms running up and down your nylon clad thighs. The skirt you’re wearing gets bunched up from the motions, hiking higher and higher up your legs. “See you couldn’t be as much of a slut today, considering your new job and all.” He says, referring to the nylon tights as he pinches a piece of the fabric between his fingers. He pulls it from your skin, letting it snap back against your flesh as he lets go. You nod, inhaling sharply through your nose. “Corporate job.” You say. “Yeah, I know.” He replies. He seems uninterested, but it’s far from the case. He just..knows. Knows what you’re going to say before you say it. Knows what you’re thinking, too, it seems. 

Before you can say anything else, he roughly rips the tights off, and you gasp as the fabric tears. The sudden movement causes you to lean backwards, leaning on your palms for support. It’s as if you’ve fallen into a trap, but one that you want to be in. One that you shouldn’t want to be in, but you do. He spreads your legs for you, the torn fabric falling around your thighs as he tears the only thing left in his way; your panties. The actions leave him eye level with your exposed cunt, and you gasp harshly. 

“Jesus, do you have to destroy everything I own?” You’re exasperated, trying to catch your breath just from that alone. “Watch your mouth.” He replies. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can only nod in response. He tugs you closer to him, leaving you on the edge of his desk. Your palms once again steady you, of which he takes note. “Good girl. Keep yourself steady-can you do that?” 

You nod. “Yes-”

His mouth finally latches to your pussy, and you gasp loudly as you fall back onto your elbows. “Fuck!” You hiss, and you can hear him chuckle into your pussy, the vibrations against your clit making you dizzy. His mouth works on your clit, spitting on it just to lap it all back up. Moans spill tirelessly from your mouth, and you finally lay fully on your back. He uses the opportunity to tug you fully towards him, shelving your legs on his broad shoulders. You lay there, your hands lunging from your sides to tug at his hair, babbling his name over and over again. He’s quiet, which normally would irritate you, but you don’t want to risk making him talk right now; considering the way he’s feasting on your pussy. You feel yourself dripping, even more so when he slides two thick fingers inside of you. “Ah-!” You gasp, and he soothes you, pulling his mouth from you. “Come on, sweetheart. You’re alright, yeah?” He asks, feigning sympathy as he rubs his thumb against your clit, his fingers no longer pumping inside of you; only a standstill. 

You nod rapidly, desperate for him to do anything. “Uh-huh, m’okay, please-” You beg, “Want more, m’sorry-”

“Bet you are.” He tsk’s, resuming the motion of his fingers pumping inside of you. You tilt your head upwards, chin to your chest as you look down at him. You whine, desperate for his mouth, but willing to take anything at the moment. He talks to you again, still on his knees. “Gave you that job, now you wanna come here and have me fuck you, again, after hours, nonetheless.” He scolds, and you whine. “Spoiled fucking rotten is what you are. Fucking whore.” You can’t help the way your pussy clenches at his words, sobbing from pleasure as he licks at your clit, sliding his fingers in and out of your dripping pussy. You hear him moan from beneath you, chuckling softly afterwards. “Yeah, you like that, huh? Like when I call you a fuckin’ slut?” You writhe above him, your elbow knocking his mug off of his desk, hearing it clatter against the floor as it shatters. He’s unphased, still waiting for an answer to his question. “No,” You say, but your moans prove otherwise, as does you clenching around his fingers. “No?” He repeats. “I’d say you’re fuckin’ lying. And lying sluts get nothing.” You whine, tugging at his hair. 

“Of course I fucking like it-is that what you wanna hear?” You pant.

“Only wanna hear it if it’s true.” 

“It’s-!” You want to scream, wondering how someone so collected and calm can make you so frustrated. “It’s true! I swear, it’s true-” A thin layer of sweat graces your features, and you can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching. “God, m’gonna fucking-” You babble, and he immediately pulls away. 

Now you really want to scream.

“Are you kidding?!” You ask, your features flushed and cherried red with warmth. You regret your sentence as soon as you hear the jingle of his belt coming undone, tossing it harshly to the side as it hits the radiator with a clang! 

“You’ve got some fuckin’ mouth on you, you know that?” He asks, and you immediately retreat back into submission. “I’m-I just don’t understand!” You snap, exasperated. He makes fleeting eye contact here and there, focusing on the surroundings as he lines you up at the edge of his desk. You can tell he’s frustrated, and it’s your fault. “And what don’t you understandl? Huh?” He asks, lining his cock with your entrance. The way the head of his cock brushes against your clit makes your eyes roll backwards, lips parted and jaw slack as it bumps into the bundle of nerves. “F’you even want me here or not-” He laughs, as if he’s never been asked something so ridiculous before. He slides his cock into you, pulling you closer by your hips to help you sink further onto it. 

“If I even want you here.” He repeats, baffled. He holds you steady, and you’re hanging off of the desk just enough for him to fuck into you steadily. He wraps his arm around your back, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You breathe heavily, expelling moans as you stay chest to chest. He presses his lips to yours, and you feel your worries wash away. Why did you even have worries? This was disgusting-vile-to return to the workplace of a man older than you, just to have him fuck you. 

“Do you-think-I don’t-want you here?” He grunts through thrusts, pounding into you deliciously. You shake your head rapidly, wondering why you would even care if he wanted you here in the first place. The way he’s fucking into you makes your brain go fuzzy, dumb with lust. It makes you anxious, fearing you’ll say something you shouldn’t under the guise of intimacy. “Do you want me to want you here?” He asks, the question buried into the flesh of your neck as he kisses it. Your head lulls back, feeling like putty in his hands. “Yes,” You answer, and he groans into your flesh. “Fuck,” He takes the confession as a cue to fuck you harder, which you’re not complaining about. Your arms drape over his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer into you. You’re both flushed, features graced with rosiness. His thrusts grow more sloppy, inconsistent. You know he’s close and  you nod rapidly. “Come in me.” You beg, plead. “He pulls his head from the crook of your neck, holding you by the back of it, free hand tight on your hip. “Of course you’d want that.” He scoffs, but who is he to deny you?

You feel his load shoot into you, warm and thick as you babble his name, cumming around his cock as you drain him. As he finishes, he still holds you close to him, both of you steadying your breathing. He finally pulls his cock from you, his load pooling onto the desk beneath you. You quickly avert your gaze, biting the inside of your cheek. It seems you’re both thinking the same thing, and he dresses himself in the silence. 

“We shouldn't.” He says, gazing at the wall with folded arms. “But we are.” You reply. 

[phthalomushroom]

The Family (2)

last next

pairings: modern!mafia!aemondxreader

summary: You had left Kings Landing and the Targaryen family four years ago. Now back and living with your old roommate you realize that the life you had thought you escaped had seemingly been waiting for you. But will the family really let you go? Will the people you left behind forgive you? Can you forget the past and look to the future?

warnings: language, mentions of trauma, mentions of shooting, alys rivers, Italians

word count: 1.7k

notes: thank you for all the love on the first part, and sorry I wasn't able to respond I've been really busy this week. I changed the name and I think this fits a bit better. I hope you enjoy this chapter the next one will be a bit more drama filled - there's plenty more to come. <333

Six Years Ago….

No one ever got a table at Federicos. No matter how early someone called to ask for a reservation they would tell you they were booked out weeks in advance. If you did get a table they would cancel the reservation on you, apologizing for the important event they had to host. Everyone in town knew this challenge, but that didn’t stop anyone from trying to get inside. 

Well, at least that was how it was for everyone besides the Targaryen family. The Targaryens owned all kinds of shops and restaurants across King’s Landing that were fronts for their other dealings. But Federicos was special because it was just a gathering spot meant for celebrations and get-togethers, the family friend who owned it always had the private room of the restaurant ready for use in case the family had a need for it. 

Aemond didn’t tell you much about the family business, you only knew bits and pieces from overhearing conversations or from the gossip of those in the city. He always said that he never liked the idea of you being caught up in the craziness of it all. 

You’ve known Aemond since grade school, basically grew up together. You’d always catch him staring in Science and English. It was only in highschool when his locker was next to yours did he finally start talking to you. Those brief conversations quickly turned into study sessions during study hall, which turned into after school plans, which turned into him asking you out. 

But tonight, the first big homecoming dance of your senior year, Aemond had booked the private room of Fredericos to celebrate with all your friends. You would say that everyone was going their own way but everyone who grows up in King’s Landing usually stays, either opting to start work right away or going to Citadel University.

Unbeknownst to everyone, not that it was their business anyway, you had applied out of the city, far away places.You had gotten into all of them but were still waiting to hear back from your top school at North College of Winterfell. 

Your phone pinged with a text from Aemond telling you he was waiting outside. 

You finished getting ready, though, Federicos was a formal place you never went over the top. You opted cute and semi-formal, since you were heading to the dance right after. You quickly stuffed your purse with the essentials before bounding down the stairs. 

You walked past your passed out father, the typical beer cans surrounding him, and headed for the door when you noticed today's mail had slipped through the door’s mail slot. You would have stepped over it all when you noticed a big thick envelope at the bottom of the pile.

Bending down you grabbed the letter, flipping it over to see it was addressed to your from Winterfell. You quickly opened it, heart hammering in your chest when you read the words you didn’t know you were hoping to see.

Congratulations.

********

There were people who you never wanted to see again from King’s Landing and there were people who you couldn’t wait to see.

Vincent Federico was someone who you could not wait to see.

The small Italian man was as heartwarming as his meatballs and was always willing to do what he needed to help. When he first heard of your moving out after your blow out with your father, he offered you a job as a waitress to help keep you off the streets. When he found out that you were leaving for Winterfell he didn’t say a word to Aemond about it, keeping it a secret until the very day of your departure. 

Of course he would say he knew nothing about it, but you knew he had overheard your conversation with Baela that night. 

Now walking into Federicos the nerves hit you all at once. Vincent smiled as he saw you come in from where he sat at the bar, getting up from the stool to envelope you in a big bear hug.

“Long time no see, kid.” The man grinned in a way that his gold tooth where his left canine should be shimmered in the light.

“I know, I tried to visit but I didn’t want to ruin business.”

He waved you off. “You're outta your mind.”

“No hug for me Vinnie?” Baela piped up from next to you.

Vinnie grinned wrapping his arms around her, lifting her up off the ground before setting her back on her feet. “I saw you last week, you miss me that much?”

“Of course.”

“Careful, Jace might get jealous.”

“Jace knows that our relationship is one of pure garlic bread, he knows better than to interfere.”

Vinnie chuckled, waving his hand as he turned toward the tables. “Follow me, I got your favorite table all prepared.” 

He seated us at the corner booth that overlooked the restaurant. Vinnie had already set out a plate of his famous garlic bread, knowing it was your favorite, as well as having already poured your favorite wine. Since Baela and you have been coming here for years, you already knew what you were getting and put your orders in. 

Baela and you started catching up on the things that you weren’t able to share over the phone. Baela caught you up on the latest gossip of the city, of the schoolmates you left behind. Unsurprising, a majority of your graduating class  still lived in King’s Landing. 

Which meant you were bound to run into someone eventually.

“So,” you started taking a sip of your wine. “What’s the plans looking like for you and Jace?”

By now your meals had arrived, in between mouthfuls of spaghetti Baela asked. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just trying to get an idea of who’s gonna get the apartment in our divorce.”

“Why? Sick of me already?”

You chuckled. “No, I just mean with how serious Jace is I’m surprised you two haven’t made bigger moves for the future.”

“We’re still young, marriage now is like being a child bride.”

You grinned, understanding the feeling. “Oh, I know. But have you two talked about moving in? I mean you’ve been together since middle school, you know everything about each other.”

“We knew everything about each other.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since he officially became part of the family, he doesn’t tell me as much. He keeps secrets from me, tells me it's for the best and that he’s protecting me. I don’t know, this probably sounds cliche.”

“It does,” you admit, but you remembered a similar feeling when you dated Aemond. “But that is who he is now.”

“Can I ask you something?”

You leaned closer. “Anything.”

“If the shooting never happened, would you have ranaway?”

You played with the rim of your glass, causing a slight high pitch noise. “I think I would have left eventually.”

“Would you have left with Aemond?”

You looked up meeting Baela’s eyes. “I think if everything didn’t go down as it did I would have stayed here and I would have regretted it like my mother did.”

“Is it really so bad?” She asked. “Being here, being with us?”

I shook my head, about to respond when a hand slapped down on the table, nearly spilling the wine. Alys Rivers leaned down smiling sweetly at you.

“Look who's back in town.”

Her green eyes were like daggers as she looked you up and down. You returned the gesture noting her skintight red dress, her too tall heels. 

You smiled. “I see you haven’t changed since highschool Alys.” 

She whipped her dark hair over a shoulder, threading her fingers through the strands. “Well, I hope you’d see some change in me (Y/N), I certainly see you have changed.”

You remained composed, taking a sip of wine. Even though she was three years older than you she still found it in her to act like the child she did in highschool. Aemond always told you it was because her dad didn’t give her enough attention but you knew she hated you because you didn’t come from a well off family. You didn’t back down then and you certainly weren’t going to back down now.

“So what have you been up to?” You asked, faking nice.

“Oh, I’ve joined the family business.” She made note to move her left hand to the side of her lips, bringing attention to the ring on her finger.

Your ring. The same oval diamond ring you saw four years ago. 

Which meant…

You let your eyes widen for a second before composing yourself. “Wow, congratulations! I’m happy for you.”

“Aren’t you going to ask who the lucky man is?”

She would not win, you wouldn’t let her. You can spiral later, but not in front of her.

You shot a look at Baela to find her frowning at her plate, she knew and she didn’t tell you. Now you were in the midst of a battle of wills and she was trying to sit it out. 

Hell no.

You kicked Baela under the table, gaining her attention. If she was going to keep something like this from you, the least she could do is help.

Baela cleared her throat. “Who is the lucky guy Alys?”

 “Well, you should already know who it is,” she waved Baela off. “It’s Aemond of course. We’ve been going out for the past three and half years, now. The proposal was long overdue.”

“Of course, you aren’t getting any younger are you?”

Alys sucked her teeth. “What a joy it is to have you back in the city, (Y/N). You’ve really been missed. I just hope that the Targaryen are as welcoming as I am.”

“She doesn’t have any involvement with the Targaryens anymore, Alys.” Baela sat up straighter at the mention of the family.

Her family now.

“Of course she does. Aemond told me everything about your relationship you know,” she leaned closer. “I just hope they don’t find out the real reason you left.” 

Your heart sank but you kept your composure. You finished your wine. “I have no idea what your talking about.”

Alys grinned, clearly satisfied. “Well, it was nice running into you. Send my regards to Jace, Baela.”

She went to leave but before you were relieved of her presence she reached into her black hermes bag and pulled out an envelope, setting it on the table.

“Aemond and I would love to have you at our celebration dinner.” With that she blew you a kiss and joined her friends in the private room.

You didn’t look at the invitation as you grabbed it off the table and shoved it in your bag. “What the fuck just happened?”

Tag List: @dixie-elocin @liannafae @toodlesxcuddles @watercolorskyy

[stylescine]

Harry styles and y/n getting married in Italy and y/n have a bit of a baby bump around 2 weeks pregnant with their first child together

this is just pure fluff and i love harry with a pregnant reader.

reader is around 3 to 4 MONTHS pregnant here!

Masterlist | Request

Words: 1.3k Warnings: just fluff

This was without a doubt the best day of her life.

Harry and Y/N had decided to have their wedding in Italy almost two years ago. The country had always been special to them. They had spent countless vacations there and she had been able to look over his shoulder when Harry was writing most of his album on the beach or in their shared home in the countryside.

They had tried out every gelato shop in close proximity and had made friends with a lot of locals a long time ago. Italy almost seemed like a second home at times, especially when the pressure and pain of every day life seemed unbearable.

Together they had arranged everything in an instant via phone calls and e-mails. It wasn’t easy to plan a wedding from so far away but that didn't take away from how beautiful it was in the end.

The wedding was a success and without a doubt the most beautiful day of their life. They were officially married now, on paper, and in front of all their friends and family. Now it was time to celebrate and celebrate they did.

But there was more than just the wedding to celebrate. Harry and her had been trying for a baby for a while. And then one day, she held the pregnancy test in her hands, sitting on the bathroom floor with her back against the bathtub and tears of joy streaming down her face. She could hear Harry cook downstairs, the TV playing in the background, and she knew that he would drop everything as soon as she would tell him.

Y/N told him as soon as she had been able to wipe her own tears and made the way to the kitchen. "I need to talk to you, darling," she said softly and Harry turned around in an instant.

He was wearing a big hoodie and sweatpants as he always did when he was relaxing at home. He had been home for a few months and they had used that time to focus on planning their future and their family.

"What is it, love?" Harry smiled, leaning against the counter behind him.

"Here," she whispered, her voice suddenly failing her. She could feel the heat climb into her cheeks as she handed the pregnancy test over to Harry. They had shared countless moments in the bathroom with a negative test in their hand, but they didn't give up and now? She was able to make them both the happiest people on this earth.

It took Harry a moment to realise what was happening as his eyes focused on the stick in front of him. "Two lines mean positive, right?" His voice was quivering and Y/N stepped closer, placing her hands on his arms. "Yes, darling," she whispered and her fiancé's eyes filled with tears in an instant. The pregnancy test was discarded quickly and Harry's arms wrapped around her. He picked her up with ease, holding her close and burying his face in her neck. "Oh my god, I can't-"

His words were lost against her lips when she turned his head and kissed him. "We're going to have a baby," she laughed, the tears rushing into her eyes again. She was sure it wasn't just the hormones this time – this was the genuine happiness she had been chasing after for so long.

Today, on their wedding day, it was hard to hide the baby bump by now. Her dress still looked absolutely perfect, the curve of her stomach definitely didn't take away from it.

Harry seemed to think the same as he approached her from behind, arms wrapping around her as his hands rested on her baby bump. "How are you two feeling? I hope you aren't too tired to dance yet."

Even if she was, Harry would take no offence in it. Ever since they had found out about the pregnancy, they were even more careful with their lifestyle and Harry tried to help her wherever he could. He was understanding of her mood swings and food cravings, always on track to help her where he could. Even if it meant running to the grocery store in the middle of the night to get her pickles.

"We're good. Not too tired yet," she replied and turned her head to the side to get a better look at her husband. A loose curl was hanging onto his forehead, but she couldn't contain the heat she felt in her tummy at the sight of him. How was Harry able to look this perfect all the time?

"Maybe we could check out the cake together?" He suggested as soon as Y/N had turned around to face him. Harry was wearing a black suit, all traditional. His nail polish matched her own and the ring on his finger seemed like it had always belonged there. "I think our little prince or princess would like that too," she agreed with a smile, interlacing their fingers and heading to the table filled with cakes and cupcakes.

Their wedding wasn't extremely big, but there were a good amount of family and friends here anyway, so they had made sure to have enough food for them all. And maybe Y/N would eat more than just one piece of cake now, given the circumstances.

Harry grabbed a piece for her first and then a plate for his own. "Let's go outside, shall we?" He asked and she agreed in an instant. There was a balcony overlooking the ocean as part of their venue and they had wanted to take a few pictures there later.

It would also provide them with a bit of privacy before the dance.

Harry opened the glass doors for her and she stepped over the threshold with her dress, careful not to trip. In front of her, the sun was starting to set on the horizon and its light was reflecting off the water ahead of them. They had chosen a location by the ocean on purpose. It would make for great pictures and the memory of celebrating here alone would make her feel all warm in the future.

She leaned her back against the rail of the balcony, slowly starting to eat away at her piece of cake. "It's so delicious," she hummed, actually holding back a satisfied moan.

Harry's lips turned into a pleased smile and he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his wife's temple. "Of course it is. You decided what it would taste like," he teased and continued to eat his own piece of cake then.

He was glad they were able to get a bit of time for themselves. It was great to celebrate with their families and friends, but he also wanted to talk to his wife alone every now and then.

His eyes wandered over her dress, down to her belly. He placed a hand on top of it, thumb moving back and forth gently. "I can't wait to start this next chapter with you, darling," Harry whispered, leaning closer to place a soft kiss on her lips.

Y/N couldn't hold back her own smile. They had been together for so long and now finally having a child and being married seemed like the right step to make into their future. Of course, they would have to navigate Harry's career and a child, but she had no doubts that they would manage it perfectly.

"Me neither. And I'm glad it's you I'm doing all of this with," she replied, placing her plate down on a nearby table before she reached out to cup Harry's cheek with her hand. He kept a bit of a stubble at the moment and it looked so good on him.

"I love you, H."

"I love you too. And our little prince or princess." Harry's eyes filled with tears, but she didn't worry about it.

Those were definitely tears of joy.

[choke-me-joey]

Eddie Munson x fem metalhead cheerleader

Summary: Based on this - how Eddie met his not so typical cheerleader girlfriend and a little exploration of their relationship.

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, smoking, underage drinking, drug use, swearing, flirting, violence, smut.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 2

It had been 3 weeks since you had gone to your first Hellfire Club meeting, and 3 weeks since Eddie had fallen head over fucking heels for you.

He'd liked you before sure, a harmless crush, but now he knew you were into good music and his favourite fantasy game? Consider him a truly smitten kitten.

And now, when you turn up to school in a Hellfire shirt, ripped jeans and that fucking jacket, Eddie could have kissed you right then and there in Ms O'Donnell's class.

"Hey," you grin as you take your usual seat next to him, sliding him a brown paper bag over to him. "So it turns out that Mountain Dew, cigarettes and Cheetos aren't a substantial diet, so I accidentally on purpose made extra chicken salad today. Figured you'd need some more sustenance y'know, got a feeling tonight's session is going to be killer."

"Hey, I eat other stuff too."

"Twinkies and coffee also don't have fantastic nutritional value, Munson." You tease, rolling your eyes. "Ever heard of a vegetable? Y'know, the healthy green stuff?"

"Oh, I'm into the green stuff alright." Eddie grins, eluding to his precious stash. You give him an exasperated look. "I'm kidding. Thanks. And the uh, the shirt looks good."

"Thanks," you smile, tucking some hair behind your ear. Were you...blushing?? "So, um, I was wondering-"

"Miss Y/L/N, is there something that you need from Mr Munson right this very second?" Ms O'Donnell glares at the pair of you.

"I mean, I guess it could wait, 5, maybe 10 minutes?" You quip, making Eddie chuckle. The old bat doesn't seem to be in as bad a mood as usual today, so somehow you narrowly escape detention but earn yourself an extra 5 chapters on the reading for over the weekend.

Later on, when Eddie is diving in to the fucking delightful chicken salad, the Hellfire Club, minus you as unfortunately you had yet to be released from the grip of the cheerleading table, don't miss the unusually nutritious food their glorious leader is consuming.

"Jesus, Eddie, is that an actual sandwich you're eating?" Gareth teases, for which he gets a mini pretzel to the face.

"Is that what Y/N gave you in English this morning?" Jeff smirked and Eddie rolled his eyes. "It is! She's making food for you?! Damn, when's the wedding?"

Eddie shot him a warning glare and it was clear that this was not a topic to be joked about.

"Jesus." Jeff grumbled, shrinking back in his seat.

"I still can't believe we have a cheerleader in Hellfire," grinned the Henderson kid, clearly loving the events of the last 2 weeks a little too much. The heart eyes the little nerd made at you each week over the table during campaigns was almost laughable.

"She's not just a cheerleader, Henderson," Eddie mumbles through a mouthful of sandwich. Because you weren't. You were a pretty cool person, who liked kick ass music and liked fantasy games, but who could also get her leg above her head, not that Eddie had been thinking about that very much at all-

"Hey, Eddie! Hi guys!" Your voice snaps Eddie out of his rapidly approaching dangerous thoughts and he realises you're stood next to him, your perfume wafting over and Eddie kind of wants to just inhale you.

The rest of the table greets you and then go back to their conversations, mostly about band practice, AV club or possible new campaign ideas. Eddie turns to look at you, smiling.

"What's up?"

"So, I was trying to say before we got interrupted earlier, I was wondering if you're going to be going to Jason's party tonight?" You smile, a hopeful look on your face. Eddie raises his eyebrows.

"Uh, gee, my invite must have gotten lost in the mail," he grins. Like he was getting an invite to that douche fest. It would be the last place on earth he'd ever be caught-

You laugh. "Well, it's a good thing I'm inviting you verbally then, huh?"

"Wait, wait, wait. You want me to come?" Eddie's eyes were practically like saucers now. Was he definitely hearing this right?!

"Of course! I mean you don't have to if you don't want to, I just figured you'd probably get a few extra customers there and I don't wanna be stuck by myself all night. These things get kinda boring when you don't have someone to distract you from the god awful music." You shrug, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.

Goddamn you were too cute.

Eddie sighs. If he was going to suffer through this, at least he could make some extra cash.

And be with you.

"Fuck it, yeah, I'll come."

"Awesome! Pick me up at 7.30?" You hand him a scrap of paper with your address on it. He frowns at it.

"Pick you up? Like a-"

"Like a date, if you want?" Your tone was hopeful, eager, and the biggest shocker was that you were completely serious. You weren't joking. You were actually asking him out. Eddie cleared his throat.

"Shouldn't this, uh, be the other way around?" He gestured between you both, and you shrug.

"I got tired of waiting. So, are we on?"

"It's a date, sweetheart."

***

At 7.30 on the dot, Eddie is waiting outside your house in his van, anxiously checking his own breath again. He was pretty pleased with how he looked tonight, his usual ratty band shirts or Hellfire shirt replaced with simple black tshirt and jeans without holes in, a red plaid shirt and his trusty leather jacket. His hair wasn't too unruly either, which made a nice change, and he was freshly showered and shaved.

Wayne had caught him dabbing aftershave on in the tiny trailer bathroom, hissing at the sting, and thanked whoever was sat on their asses in the sky that his nephew had finally found a date that wasn't a six-pack and a large pizza.

You stepped out of your front door and Eddie just about passed away. You were wearing a simple, short and sleevless black dress, one that clung to you in all the right places, with a chunky belt around your middle. Your legs were bare right down to your Dr Martens. You looked...ethereal. Breath taking.

Your face lit up the moment you locked eyes with Eddie and you walked up to the driver's side window.

"Hey, handsome. We match." You grin, gesturing to your predominantly black outfits.

"That we do," Eddie chuckled, pretending his cheeks weren't warming at you calling him handsome. "Ready to go, cutie?"

Well, if you could call him names...

He definitely noticed your cheeks flushing at that.

The drive to the party was a relatively short one, you and Eddie discussing your favourite Black Sabbath tracks, and whether you think Ozzy really did bite the head off of that bat.

"Bats are so cute! It had to be fake, there's no way." You'd said, a little pout on your face as you talked about it.

"Oh it was real, the way it bled and shit?? There's no way that could be faked." Eddie chuckled. "So fucking metal."

"So fucking gross, what if he got rabies?!" You laugh, sticking your tongue out in disgust. "You know, this isn't good first date conversation."

"It isn't? Damn, I must be a little rusty from the non-existent dating life I have." Eddie smirked. "You have better conversations with uh, whats his name, Anderson??"

The way you frown at him makes Eddie think that maybe that was a bit of a low blow, past the playful bantering and bordering on a little mean.

"I never dated that asshole. And I never fucked him either." You growl. "He's such a prick, as if I'd ever touch him or his warty dick."

Eddie bursts out laughing. "Warty dick?!"

You can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you. "He got genital warts from hooking up with some girl from out of state one time. Didn't use a rubber so I guess that's what you get. Plus he's a massive asshole, so he deserves it."

Eddie nods in agreement.

"You know him and his massive asshole buddies are going to be there tonight, right?" He says, leaning forward to check the traffic at the junction he'd pulled up to. You sigh.

"I know, again, that's why I invited you. So I have someone to talk to other than Chrissy or Tammy or Ashley about their upcoming dates or our next competition. I just wanna relax and have fun with a cute guy who wants to actually get to know me, not my pussy."

"You think I'm cute?" Eddie slyly grins and you roll your eyes playfully.

"Don't let it go to your head, Munson."

"Which one?" He jokes and you smack him lightly, laughing hard.

***

A few hours later, you're already a few drinks in, blissfully tipsy. Eddie has had maybe one or two piss weak beers, wanting to stay relatively sober to drive you home and to stay on top of his selling game. Although he'd already made bank within the first hour of the party, so now his main concern was you.

Eddie didn't really know what to do with himself; 99% of the people here hated him and avoided him like the plague. So he was happy just to sit on one of the chairs outside with you as you both smoked, happily chatting and getting to know each other better.

He'd not missed how you'd scooted your chair closer to him, or how occasionally your hand would rest on his arm. You'd not missed how he'd lean into you, or brush his hand over your knee or thigh when he was reaching for something.

Your brain swirled in the best way when Eddie took your hand and helped you up so you could both go and get another drink from the kitchen. He went to pull away after you were on your feet, but you linked your fingers through his and led him inside, pushing through the crowd to reach the drinks.

"I gotta piss," Eddie shouted over the thumping music, giving your hand a squeeze to wordlessly let you know he'd be back. You nodded, grabbing another cup and looking around for the bottle you had been nursing the entire night.

"Wow, Y/N, you fucking the freak now? Made your way through the football, basketball and baseball teams and needed a new challenge?" Anderson's ribbing voice floats over the loud music and you bristle, but ignore him. "Aw, what's wrong baby? Did I touch a nerve?"

"Fuck you Anderson. Take your micro dick and go bother someone else." You snap, finishing mixing your drink and attempting to leave the kitchen. Anderson scoffs, trapping you against the counter with his hefty quarterback frame, his alcohol soaked breath fanning over you making you want to gag.

"You look sexy tonight, Y/N, s'like you're begging to be fucked. You know that freak Munson couldn't do half the shit I could do to you," Anderson slurs and you shudder in disgust.

"What's that? Last 20 seconds and pretend like you rocked my world? I told you once and I'll tell you again, I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last creature on earth, Anderson. Fuck. Off." You growl, pushing against him but he doesn't move. He smirks, shoving his hand up your skirt. Your reflexes kick in and you drive your knee up, straight into his crotch as hard as you can. When he staggers backwards clutching his groin, you punch him square between the eyes and hear the sickening sound of bones crunching. The pain that shoots through your hand is quickly dulled by adrenaline as Anderson stumbles backwards onto the floor, blood pouring from his nose. The entire party is silent, save for the music which is still playing.

Eddie pushes his way into the kitchen after returning from the bathroom, and his mouth falls open at the scene in front of him. You, panting with fury, skirt pushed up pretty much to your crotch, fist covered in blood, and Anderson crumpled on the floor, blood pissing out of his nose and groaning in pain. Two of the other football players pick him up, staring at you in shock.

"She's a fucking psycho!" Anderson yells, his voice thick with blood. "See what happens when she starts hanging around with that fucking freak?!"

Eddie blinks and you let out a scream of rage, diving for Anderson again. Eddie is quick to grab you, restraining your arms behind your back as you struggle to get at Anderson.

"Hey, hey, hey, easy, alright? It's not worth it," Eddie says, soothing and low in your ear. "Come on, let's go."

"If you ever touch me again, Anderson, I'll cut your dick off!" You growl, still struggling against Eddie's grip as he practically picks you up and carries you out of the house towards his van.

"Eddie, that motherfucker, he-"

"I know, sweetheart. I know." Again with the soothing tone. Eddie pretty much carries you to his van and puts you in the passenger seat, buckling you in. He notices your slight shiver and takes off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

Eddie gets in and starts to drive.

"Your hand okay?" He asks gently, and you nod. He sneaks a glance at it, already bruised and covered in blood. "Y/N."

"It hurts," you sniff, your tough exterior cracking. "Fucker has a hard face."

Eddie laughs and you shoot him a look. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you, just wish I'd have been there to see you throw the punch."

"And the knee to the balls," you smirk, and Eddie winces slightly, knowing how bad it must have hurt.

"Jesus, Y/N. What did he do?" Although Eddie had a sneaking suspicion judging by the way your skirt had been pushed up practically around your waist when he came back from the bathroom.

"Aside from trying to shove his hands into my underwear, tried to tell me he could..." you trail off, not wanting to say it for fear of scaring Eddie off, or weirding him out.

"He could...?" Eddie probed. You sighed, looking out of the window as you spoke.

"Pretty much that he could fuck me better than you ever could." You said quickly, your cheeks once again flushing scarlet. Eddie went silent, swallowing hard. "He's just an asshole, I don't care what he says about me, but when he brought you into it, I-"

"Had to defend my honour?" Smirking, Eddie looks at you. "Listen, sweetheart, I'm glad you beat the shit out of him, he's a fucking bitch and deserved it but you didn't have to do it for me."

"I know." You answer and the conversation falls into a comfortable silence for a few moments.

"And I could definitely fuck you better than he ever could." Eddie states, making you burst out laughing.

"Renember earlier how I said dont let it go to your head? That's the kind of shit I meant. No more compliments for you, mister."

Taglist: @big-ope-vibes

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@bibieddiesgf

@josephquinngirly

@mich-13

@wintersoldierbaby

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@ches-86

@mystars123

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

In Case I Do Something Stupid

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, Reader POV and Dean POV

Summary:  Reader is a grad student in college trying to work hard for her degree while maintaining a long distance relationship with Dean Winchester. This is part three of my "Before You Go" series (I'm so bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Angst, Fluff, Age Difference, (Reader is early to mid-20's and Dean is probably early 30's), Established Relationship

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: There is some swearing (only a few times), implied reference of past sex (once or twice), Dean might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

This fic includes song lyrics that are in italics and bold font.

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist

***************************************************

Reader POV

"Did you get it?" Dean asks.

You're standing in front of your mailbox in the lobby of your apartment, cradling the phone between your shoulder and neck while you sort through your mail. There were a lot more bills than you were hoping for.

It had been a long day and all you really wanted was to go lie down, but you had a test in the morning, which meant that you wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

It had been two months since the whole “Cooper” thing and despite Dean’s insistence for you to come over to the bunker if he ever showed his face, Cooper hadn’t appeared once.

Of course that meant that Suze was out of the apartment more to spend time with him, wherever it was he lived. Neither of you had spoken about the incident, not since the morning after when Dean was asleep and you snuck out to make coffee before he woke up and you ran into her. You remember the dark circles under her eyes and  the way her face was red and puffy from crying. You hadn’t known what to say so you nodded a “good morning” and walked back into your bedroom with coffee for you and Dean.

Dean was trying to convince you to move out, but the rent was so cheap you didn’t think you’d be able to find anything better. But with the summer approaching quickly, that meant you could spend more time at the bunker with Dean.

An elderly woman breezes through the main lobby of the apartment building, wearing a bright purple tracksuit. "Hi y/n."

"Hi Mrs. Travis." You respond, holding off from answering Dean.

"Where's your special friend?" She smiles widely at you.

The last time Dean had visited, Mrs. Travis asked him to come help her unclog her drain. You and Mrs. Travis sat at her kitchen table together watching Dean work under the sink while eating mass quantities of chocolate chip cookies. You'd been over to see her a few times since, and each time she told you that Dean reminded her of her husband and would ask when he was coming back.

"He's at home this week."

"What a shame. Tell him to come back anytime. I'll make some of those cookies for him again." She smiles before continuing on to the elevator.

"Who was that?"

"Your wife." You snort into the phone.

"Oh she's the best. Those cookies were so good." Dean moans. "Can you please bring some of those when you come this weekend?"

"I'll see what I can do." You sift through the mail in your hand. There's a collection of bills and a large green make-shift envelope that has been duct taped together with thick silver tape to cradle the contents.

"But did you get it?" Dean asks again.

"By it do you mean a creepy duct taped envelope? Because yes I did." You hold it by the corner turning it over to see Dean's untidy scrawl in black sharpie over the front of it.

This looks like a kindergartener made it. You imagine Dean sitting at his desk in the bunker with a pair of scissors, his tongue between his teeth in concentration and smile to yourself.

"Okay good." Dean sounds relieved.

"I could have just picked whatever this is up this weekend."

"You're telling me that you don't like getting mail?"

"I like getting mail, but this looks like a ransom note. Is someone holding you hostage? Because if that’s happening I don’t have any money and I'm sure you'll be fine." You smile, trying to find a way to open it, but the duct tape was thwarting you.

"No it’s not a ransom note." Dean pauses on the other side of the line. "Wait, you wouldn’t pay money for me?" 

"I mean. Maybe?" You shrug as if he could see you, smiling wide at the envelope.

"That’s reassuring."

"Alright so you’re saying that if I was being held for ransom, you’d give them Baby for me?"

Dean doesn't answer. You can hear him mulling it over in his head, but you already know the answer to that question. You knew that Baby always comes first.

“That’s a long pause Dean.”

"I’m sure the connection is bad. Because I did answer-" Dean begins to say.

"How is the connection bad?" You interrupt, raising an eyebrow.

He tries again. "I’m driving through a tunnel?" It comes out like a question and you can’t help but laugh at his attempts to cover his mistake.

"I thought you said you were back at the bunker."

"Well, then the reception here sucks." He finishes and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You sigh to yourself. The last time you'd seen Dean was only a week ago, but it wasn't enough. Long distance was hard, but you felt that you both were giving it your all. Not to mention that this weekend you were coming to see him at the bunker, and it was a long weekend, which meant you both didn't have to rush.

"Uh-huh. Sure. If I get kidnapped I’m just gonna call Sam.”

"We are definitely off topic.” Dean sighs. “But you did get it?”

“Yes Dean I did. Whatever it is." You trace a finger over the silver taped edge. "Is this construction paper? Dean, you are a grown man, why do you have construction paper?”

“There’s a lot of old shit in this bunker.”

“For your birthday I’m getting you envelopes.”

"Sexy."

You roll your eyes, but finally break through the paper and pull out a bright yellow and black contraption. “You bought me a Walkman?”

Dean had previously bought you a cassette tape player that was on your desk in your apartment so you could listen to the mixtapes he made. Dean often made you mixtapes of his favorite songs, most of which you knew given you had almost the same taste in music, but each time you listened to one of his tapes it was like he was there in the room with you. It made the distance between you less when you missed him.

"Where did you even get a Walkman?" You ask.

"I told you there's a lot of old shit in this bunker." He laughs. "But this way you can listen to the mixtapes when you go to class or when you're at the library.” He says it nonchalant, but there's an edge to his voice that you don't understand.

I wonder if he's worried about something.

The thought makes you worry about him. Dean worried about a lot of things, but he usually kept it to himself. You figured it was because of his dad. You didn’t know too much about Dean’s father, only that he was dead and that he put a lot of responsibility and pressure on Dean’s shoulders when it came to Sam and the job he did, which forced Dean to be more guarded and unable to admit when he needed help. You of course, were very good at reading him and whenever Dean was worried, you made it a point to have him talk to you about it, even if you didn't have a suggestion. You wanted him to be comfortable letting his walls down. You needed him to know that you were there for him and that he didn’t need to carry the burden alone no matter how heavy it was.

You examine the Walkman, running your thumb against each black button that line along the top and against the smooth plastic edges. “That was very thoughtful. Thanks Dean.”

“You’re welcome.” He pauses. “I-uh- also included a new tape.”

“Oh cool. I can't wait to listen to it. I loved the last one."  You pop out the cassette and look at the label.

Dean always came up with ridiculous  names that made you laugh, names like "Psyched to See You Mix Vol 1," and "It's a Good Day to Call Dean."

This one was called "In Case I Do Something Stupid." "I love the name. Does it mean that this is just a pre-recorded blanket apology if you're not careful on a hunt-"

"No it's not."

"Uh-huh." You put the tape back into the Walkman.

“But for this one, when you listen to it, can you call me? I really want to know what you think.” Dean continues.

“If it’s another 8 minute drum solo of Moby Dick-“

“It's not and it hurts me that you didn’t like it. But promise that you’ll call after you listen to it.”

“It wasn't bad. And will there be a test?” You tease him, confused that he's so adamant about you calling him after you listen. Whenever Dean gave you a mixtape he was excited to know what you thought, but was usually more nonchalant about it.

"No." Dean laughs, but it doesn't sound right. "I just want to know what you think."

"Well I can bring it with me when I come this weekend and we can listen to it together-"

"NO!" Dean exclaims. "I mean-um- you should listen to it now and call me." He recovers stumbling over his words.

"Okay." You draw it out confused as to why he is acting so weird. "I will take detailed notes over all of the songs and tell you how much I loved them."

“Okay.” Dean pauses again. “Um y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I- I’m gonna be at the bunker for a few days researching so you can call me anytime-“ He says it quickly, not in the cool and collected way he usually spoke.

“Dean are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure? You sound a little weird."

"I'm sure it's just the connection." Dean pauses again. "I-"

"Dean?"

“I miss you.” He says it hesitantly, and for a second you think that he was going to say something else.

“I miss you too. I promise I’ve just got the one test and then I’ll be there this weekend.”

"Okay."

"Okay."

You could feel the three little words hovering on the tip of your tongue, the three little words you would have gladly told him five months ago when you first started officially dating. You knew that you were in love with Dean, had been in love with him from the moment your eyes locked with his, but the problem was that you'd never said it to anyone else. Of course you'd never felt about anyone the way you felt about him. He was kind, caring, sexy, protective, and just the right amount of batshit crazy that always kept you guessing.

I miss him so much.

Dean hadn’t said it either. But you understood that he was a little slow when it came to stuff like that and it wasn’t that you thought he didn’t love you. Dean said it plenty of other ways. Not to mention you figured he probably also hadn’t said it to anyone before and might be afraid to admit it aloud.

"I'll see you this weekend okay?" You sigh into the phone while wishing that Dean was there to hold you.

"Can't wait. Bye Sweetheart."

"Bye Dean."

****************************

Three days pass and you still haven’t listened to the tape. Honestly you forgot about it,  too wrapped up in studying for the test and preparing a lab report that took twelve hours to finish, all the while your lab partner, Tim, was frantically proofreading over your shoulder so you could turn it in by the deadline.

It was Thursday night, one day from seeing Dean, and you were sitting in the library for your overnight shift. You reach into your backpack for your notebook, but when you pull it out, the headphones from the Walkman are tangled in the spiral of the notebook.

Oh no. You think to yourself. You couldn't believe that you forgot about the tape and you wonder if that's why Dean hadn't texted or called the past few days, because he was waiting for you to call him to tell him what you thought.

You carefully untangle the headphones from the notebook, before raising your head to look around the library. It was midnight, which meant that the only people in the library were you and the guy in the corner slumped over a stack of textbooks half asleep. His loud snores echoed through the empty room, something else that reminded you of Dean. He didn't believe that he snored, until you recorded it on your phone and played it back to him. But, you didn’t hate that he snored. Sometimes you hated how quiet it was in your bedroom when he wasn't there sleeping beside you, that was usually when you called him just to hear his voice through the phone and closed your eyes to imagine he was there.

Dean never cared what time it was when you called him, in fact, Dean liked it when you called him on your overnight shifts and when you were walking back to your apartment. He liked to make sure that nothing happened to you.

You didn't think that the sleeping man in the corner would need any help anytime soon, so you slip the headphones over your ears and hit play. But when the first song starts, you're confused.

The first song is one of your favorites, "I'll Have to Say I Love You In A Song,"  by Jim Croce. A singer that you liked to listen to when you winded down at the end of the day and also a singer that was not Dean's favorite. He often teased you about it. For Dean to include the song on the tape was unusual, but you figured that it was because he knew you loved it.

"Well I know it's kinda late,

I hope I didn't wake you,

But what I've gotta say can't wait,

I know you'd understand,

'Cause every time I tried to tell you,

The words just came out wrong,

So I'll have to say I love you in a song…"

You hum along to the music while tapping your foot along to the melody as you reach back into your bag to pull out your textbook and pencil case for your highlighters and note tabs.

The second song starts as you turn back to your textbook, finding the right chapter to begin studying. You had expected the next song to also be a Jim Croce song or another song that you liked given the name of the mixtape. You assumed that "In Case I Do Something Stupid" meant that the tape would be filled with songs you loved to make you feel better if Dean pissed you off, but the next song is not one you know. You can tell it's Kansas, one of Dean's favorite bands, and one that you didn't often listen to before you met him.

"…Stand beside me

I will never let you fall

Stand beside me

I'll come whenever you call…"

You smile to yourself at the lyrics, it makes you think about how dependable Dean is. How he's willing to drop anything and show up whenever you need him. The melancholy tone of the song makes you miss him even more.

The smell of coffee wafts from the 24/7 coffee shop in the lobby, drawing you up from your seat to answer the siren call. When you get back with a iced coffee, you place the headphones over your ears once more and hit play.

The next two songs you recognize, both Journey songs, "Open Arms" and "Faithfully." You’d heard "Open Arms" before, but you'd never taken the time to listen to the lyrics:

"So here I am

With open arms

Hoping you'll see

What your love means to me

Open Arms…"

When "Faithfully" follows, you can't help but feel a nagging sensation in the back of you mind when you listen to the lyrics of the soft ballad like you're missing something:

"…Lost without you

And being apart ain't

easy on this love affair…

Oh, girl, you stand by me

I'm forever yours

Faithfully…"

You highlight another definition in your textbook while chewing on the inside of your cheek. You did like Journey.

Maybe Dean just wanted to include songs that I liked after the whole 8-minute Moby Dick drum solo fiasco.

When the next song comes on you can tell that it's a Led Zeppelin song, given the familiar tone of the lead singer. You continue to listen, focusing on the chorus:

"Oh, all of my love, all of my love to you, now

All of my love, oh yes,

All of my love to you…"

You sit there for a second in the brief silence that follows the song, before you shrug. Dean always included a Led Zeppelin song in his mixtapes because he wanted to continue your education of music with one of his favorite bands.

The next song begins and you immediately know what it is, "Feel Like Makin' Love" by Bad Company. Dean had included the song in a previous mixtape, not to mention you had heard it before on a tape he played when the two of you were together in his room at the bunker. Your cheeks blush as you remember what you were doing when it played. He had plenty of mixtapes that were devoted to THAT particular subject.

But this time you really sit and listen to the words of the song, highlighter poised high over the page:

"Darling, I don't live without you

And your love…

Darling, if I live without you,

I live without love…"

It makes you think of Dean again. You sigh to yourself wishing that it was already time to go back to see him.

There are actually some nice lyrics in this song. You think making a note in the margins of the textbook perched on your knee. You look back up to survey the empty room. The only patron is still in the corner snoring away.

You sit back in your chair, textbook forgotten and pause the tape. You couldn't help but notice that all the songs had a particular theme and you couldn't understand why.

When you hit play the next two are Van Halen, one of your favorite bands, and you immediately recognize both songs. The quick pace of "So This is Love" washes over you, making your heartbeat spike with the beat of the drums.

"Yes, she knows she's mine

And ain't letting go

So this is love?

Ooh I need you love,

Baby, got to have your love…"

Your breath catches in your chest as "When It's Love" starts to play and the smooth sound of the piano tickles against your skin.

"When it's love

Ooh, when it's love

Hey it'll last forever

When it's love

You and I

We're going to feel this thing together…"

And before you can think about the words the next song follows, "Is This Love?" by Whitesnake.

"I feel my love for you growing stronger

Day by day

And I can't wait to see you again

So I can hold you in my arms

Is this love that I'm feeling?

Is this love or am I dreaming?

This must be love

'Cause it's really got a hold on me…"

The next song that follows is Styx, "Babe" and you had heard it on a previous playlist Styx tape that Dean loaned you when he found out that you'd never heard anything by the band before. But this time the song catches you off guard.

"'Cause I'll be lonely without you

And I'll need your love to see me through

But please believe me, my heart is in your hands

'Cause I'll be missing you

Babe, I love you…"

You sit there in the silence that follows "Babe," unable to stop the rapid beat of your heart recognizing the familiar theme with all of the other songs on the mixtape and unable to stop focusing on the words of the song. You take a sip of your iced coffee, tapping your highlighter against your textbook while trying to gather your thoughts. But you couldn't focus on anything on the page. Your thoughts turn to the funny name that Dean decided to call the mixtape.

It's just a coincidence. Dean made another mixtape with songs that he wanted to share with me-

And then the Jim Croce song, "I'll Have to Say I Love You In a Song," comes back on. And you understand. It was exactly what Dean was doing. He was saying "I love you" the only way he knew how.

You look at the label of the cassette again, running your thumb over the writing. You thought that the "In Case I Do Something Stupid" title Dean wrote, meant listen to the tape whenever he pissed you off for being careless on a hunt, but you realize the title referred to if Dean hurt you, if he broke your heart somehow along the way, the tape was a reminder and a confession of his love. A reminder that he wasn't going to give you up, and that he was going to fix it the best way he could.

*****************************************

Dean POV

He tapped his pen anxiously against the ancient text as he laid across his bed, glancing every few seconds at the dark phone on his left.

You still hadn’t called.

It’d been three days since you said you’d listen to the mixtape, three days of absolute agony. Dean sighed looking back at the text but he couldn’t focus on any of the words.

What if she listened to it and didn’t love me? What if that’s why she wasn’t calling? He thought to himself, frown deepening.

He’d thought about saying it to you a million times, almost said it on the phone three days ago, but he was afraid. Dean didn’t like admitting that, but it was true. His fear that you would reject his declaration of love kept him from whispering the three little words that he’d wanted to say from the moment you’d met and patched him up two years ago. He'd never said it before, but he'd never wanted to say it to anyone before he met you.

He glances back at his phone hopefully as the screen illuminates, but it's only a notification from his email. It was past six am, but every time Dean tried to go to sleep all he could think about was you, you and the fact that you hadn't called or texted.  Dean taps the pen on the book again, as his heart continues to sink.

Why is this so hard? Why can’t I just say it to her? I should call and tell her right now- Dean picks up his phone, but then puts it down.

Because what if you had listened to the tape and this was your way of avoiding him. What if you’d never call him back and that was it? What if this was your way of saying that you didn't love him and you didn't know how to get around the awkwardness of calling to tell him that you didn't?

His heart seized in his chest to think that. His mind began to circle the drain again, thinking of all the things he said to you the night that you told him that you wanted him. He had been surprised of course. You were so different than him, so warm and full of life that it made him feel like he’d swallowed the sun whenever he was around you. He didn't realize that you'd wanted him as much as he wanted you, in fact, half the time Dean believed that he didn't deserve to be with someone like you, not after all the things he'd done.

Dean rolls over on his back to look up at the ceiling of his bedroom, tracing the cracks in the metal and the familiar patches of rust, hoping for sleep to give him some relief.

But he can't, all he can think about is you.

Dean remembers his younger years, his years of stringing women along and flirting with whatever caught his eye. But you made him better man and that's why he loved you. You knew him better than anyone else, saw his flaws, allowed him to be open and vulnerable for the first time. You didn't make him feel like less of a man when he expressed emotions and you allowed him to break. Dean couldn't wait to see you again, because when he was with you, he didn't feel the albatross hanging around his neck.

A loud, frantic knocking at his door stirs him from his thoughts.

"I'm not in the mood Sammy." Dean grumbles. He throws his muscular forearm over his eyes to shut out the light above and to staunch the flow of self-deprecating thoughts.

The knocking persists.

Dean sighs loudly, before standing from his bed and walking to the solid metal door, his hotdog pajama pants swishing against his ankles.

"I said I'm not-" Dean looks up where Sam's face usually would be, but sees nothing.

What?

Then he drops his gaze and he sees you. Your cheeks are flushed bright red, hair blown back away from your face in tangles, wearing Dean's favorite pair of jeans, the ones that hug you so tight that it makes him have a hard time focusing. Your smile breaks something in his chest, spreading warmth and comfort through his body like a wildfire.

Dean can't remember the last time he felt comfort before he met you. When you were with him it felt like home, something that he was missing for so long in his life.

"Hey Sweetheart, what are you doing he-" He barely gets the words out before you throw yourself at him. Dean stumbles back with the force of your tackle as your lips find his, arms wrapping around the back of his neck to grip his bare shoulders and pull his face further down to yours.

Dean falls backward on the bed with you on top of him, the thick volume pressing into his back painfully, but he doesn't feel it all he's aware of is you. How your body feels on top of his, how your lips move together as one, and the soft sounds you make into his mouth when he deepens the kiss and drags his hands down to your hips.

You pull back out of breath, lips bright pink. "I listened to it. I'm so sorry it took me so long."

"You did?" Dean's hands are comfortably seated on top of your hips, squeezing just enough that he knows you're here, you're real, and he didn't fall asleep.

"Yeah, and I didn't want to say this on the phone." Your eyes are bright. "I love you too Dean."

Dean's heart skips a beat, an uncontrollable smile shining from his face with your confession. He can't remember a single solitary moment in which he'd felt so much love, comfort, and happiness surging beneath his skin.

"You do?" He didn't mean to ask it, but the little voice was back spreading doubt.

"Of course I do. It's impossible not to." You lean down to kiss him again, your fingertips flitting over his muscular torso in a way that makes pins and needles trace in their wake. "But I'd like to hear you say it." Your forehead presses against his, hair tickling his cheeks.

"I love you y/n." Dean whispers. He watches the way your blush swells over your cheeks, smile widening with his words. And all he wants is to make you smile like that for the rest of his life, to bask in your glow because you are the sun.

Dean secures his hand at the back of your head and draws you down to him, losing himself in the warmth of your love and the soft promise of what tomorrow would bring.

**********************************************

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[wriitingwoes79]

Naughty Neighbors Pt 2

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Y/N

Summary: Tensions rise a week after “the incident” and the both of you are doing your best to get on each others nerves. Tonight, you take it too far—and face the consequences.

Content Warning: masturbation, use of sex toys, mention of casual sex/bar hookups

WC: ~1.1k

AN: once again, heavy on the UNEDITED. I HAD to cut it short chickies it was tooo fucking long but part 3 WILL be posted on Monday!!

MDNI!!!

It had been a week since the incident with Miguel. A long and insufferable week. A week of trying to get on with your life, hooking up with random strangers to try and scratch the itch that he'd created--to no avail, mind you. No one you found in seedy bars and dazzling nightclubs after your shifts at work could manage to do an inkling of what he'd done to you in a matter of minutes (seconds, if you were being completely honest).

But that didn't stop you from making sure Miguel was home to hear every minute of it. Sure, your moans were...well, fake, and the men didn't last long and you kicked them out shortly after, but you gained a sick satisfaction from hearing his door slam shut angrily and the music in his apartment grow louder to combat the sounds you were making. In retaliation, Miguel would dump your mixed up mail on your welcome mat, and make even more noise than usual in the early mornings when you slept.

You were both intent on making each other absolutely miserable.

You may have taken it too far tonight.

This entire week, you always waited until Miguel left to try and finish yourself off with your new-and-improved rechargeable vibrator you ordered the day after the incident. However, you never seemed to make it over the edge and cum.

Today, of course, you used it after the latest disappointment you picked up from a random bar down the street had left. You'd just finished taking a shower and didn't even bother to get dressed into pajamas. You merely laid on your sheets, legs spread and towel unwrapped as you started working on the annoying urge that Miguel had built up.

Your thoughts began to wander as you held the head of the wand against your clit, soft pants leaving between your parted lips. Flashes of the hallway began to flicker beneath your closed eyes: the hard and cold walls pressing into your flushed skin, hot breaths fanning over your neck, rough callused hands that gripped you hard enough you'd spent the past few days examining the small bruises they left.

You thought about how good it felt to have him nearly rip your clothes to pieces, pushing his hard dick against your panties before he eventually pulled them down too, sliding it between your slick thighs to fuck between them. Now, your thighs were slick again, your pants now becoming breathy and audible moans as you got closer and closer to reaching your climax. You imagined Miguel's thick and generously sized dick pushing into you, filling you up more than any man from the bar, and even your ex, coming so so so close to the edge of the orgasm you'd been chasing for the entire week.

"Oh, fuck, Miguel. Don't stop," you whined, unable to stop the words leaving your lips as you dwelled in your fantasies.

You heard a door slam but the sound was too far away to even dwell on it. Especially not when you were so close to reaching what you'd been so rudely denied. You could barely contain yourself anymore, sweat slicked on your nude body as your body began to melt into sweet sweet bliss.

That is until rough hands banged loudly on your front door.

You started with a jolt, sitting up with your vibrator in hand, and wrapping the towel over you in the other. The banging started once more and your knees knocked closed just as a voice growled loud enough for you to hear from your bedroom.

"Y/N! Open up, I know you're in there!"

Ooooh, you were in for it now. Miguel was going to kill you.

You panicked, standing up completely and looking around the room. Your thoughts raced faster than your heart as it pounded heavily in your chest.

He wasn't supposed to be home!

Oh God, you should answer the door--wait, you should put some clothes on first!

Why is the vibrator still in your hand?

You turned off the vibrator and tossed it on your nightstand, already starting to rummage through your dresser for something to wear when you heard his voice again.

"I swear to God, if you don't open this fucking door right now, I'll kick it down." You could not lose your security deposit.

“Fuck!” You tugged the towel around you tighter, hoping to cover as much of you as you could, hoping the sheen of sweat glistening off your skin would make it seem you'd just gotten out of the shower.

"Alright! Alright, I'm coming," you yelled through the door, "Don't get your sweatpants in a fucking twist."

You unlocked the door and swung it open, your free hand clasping the towel closed.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck.

Miguel was seething when you opened the door. His bare chest, also shining with sweat, heaved as he huffed deeply. The muscles in his neck and shoulders strained as he crossed his arms, even more muscles rippling underneath his skin. His hair was slightly disheveled, like he too had been tossing and turning in bed. But he shouldn't have been. You were sure he'd left his apartment way before you even took a shower.

"What?" You asked, annoyed. It took everything in you to look him directly in the eyes. You hadn't dared to look farther than his chest upon first seeing him, but your peripheral was giving you a sneaking suspicion about a certain something pressing against the fabric of his blue boxers. You knew he'd given the same once over to you too, with how pink the tips of his ears had gotten.

"Don't give me that bullshit," he started, "You don't get to act annoyed with what you've been doing all week."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You smiled innocently.

"The fact that you haven't actually cum all week says otherwise. Your dates not up to snuff?" His scowl turned into a deep smirk and your cheeks heated up in response. How could he even know?

"Oh please," You shoved his chest away from the threshold, "Like you could even do the job. You barely lasted two minutes, I'm sure you had to rush back inside before you busted all over the walls."

In a flash, you were back in your apartment...with Miguel inside too. You winced as your back was pressed against the cold door, Miguel's hands on either side of your head.

"So you're going to keep denying it?" He asked, his voice softer now only in volume--the intensity was still enough to make your knees weak. You didn't look him in the eyes until he forced your chin up, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger. "Answer me, fiera." You scowled at his pet name for you.

"No."

"Have it your way then."

~to be continued~