#its so much more fun to drink it out of a plastic cup and a metal dtraw i dont make the rules i just break them

[socialc1imb]

Ive discovered alcohol is more fun when you drink it wrong. Yes i WILL drink my wine on ice and yes i WILL BE using a straw

[digital-domain]

Easier

Feitan x Reader // word count 4.3k

If you drink with him tonight, you’ll still be trapped. Things will not get better, and they’ll likely get worse. You know that. But it’s so hard to resist a chance to feel good.

Tags/warnings: dark content, kidnapped reader, noncon (both parties are intoxicated, it’s implied that reader is more so), drinking, coping through drinking, unsexy smut, drunk sex, outdoor sex, reference to previous threats of violence, attempted knifeplay

Feitan has a habit of bringing you things that you do not want. He does not hand them to you - instead, he deposits them on your bed or your floor and then looks at you expectantly, in much the same way that a cat might deposit a dead mouse on your doorstep. It happens often, so when you hear the rattle and click of the lock on your door, you are not surprised to see him enter with something in his hand.

“Here.” He doesn’t make eye-contact - not until he yanks the door shut behind him, forcing it to scrape against the warped wooden frame, and pulls the chain that dangles from the bare, yellowed bulb in the center of the ceiling. Then, he brandishes his offering, raising it up with an awkward jerk of his wrist. “For you.” A bottle of clear liquor, with his knuckles white around its neck, and a single glass tucked under his arm. It’s a regular one, and not a shot glass (not surprising - you’re shocked that he even owns any cups that aren’t made out of plastic), and the bottle is cheap, but neither of those little details are really the problem.

You shift your weight backwards slightly, bracing your hands against your bare mattress. “I don’t want it.”

Feitan crosses the room, somehow managing to avoid a single creak in the rotting floorboards, and sits on the ground directly beside your bed. He looks at the place on the floor beside him, and then stares at you without blinking until you give in, sliding cautiously from your bed and pulling your knees up to your chest as you sit.

You eye the dubious gift with apprehension.

“I didn’t put anything in it.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” you say, before you can really think about your answer.

He tilts his head. “Really?”

“…not just that.”

“Smart.” He nods curtly, as if he expected this response, although his gaze drops for a moment and his hand twitches anxiously at his side. “I show you.” He pours out about a shot. The cowl over his face comes down with a sharp tug, and he wrinkles his nose at the contents of the glass before downing it with a straight face.

You’ve never seen him drink before, or smelled it on his breath, so you are almost inclined to be impressed.

“What else are you worried about?”

His breath usually just smells like he doesn’t own a toothbrush. You pointed this out once, and ended up with a pair of pliers in your mouth. He didn’t actually remove any of your teeth, and the corners of his eyes were creased as his face hovered over yours, like the whole thing was good fun, you teasing him and him paying it back in kind. His breath was fresh the next time you saw him, washed out with a sickly-sweet-something that repulsed you even more than the rot it replaced.

“What else?” he prompts.

“I don’t like your presents.”

He pauses for a moment, as if he finds what you’re saying baffling. “You like this one.”

“No, I don’t.” There are plenty of reasons not to like it. For one, the fact that it is different from all the others. He usually gives you harmless things. Some of them have been truly undesirable, like the half-wilted flower with strangely shaped leaves and an even stranger smell, or the scuffed silver ring for which the previous owner, he assured you, had no further use. Others, you tried to reject only because they came from him, and took advantage of in the moments when you were too tired to care about your pride. Soap of the exact same kind that you used to stock in your home. A soft pair of socks that very nearly matched and were very nearly clean. They were all unsettling in their own way, of course. But this one is different.

Why is it different? You do not like the answer, but it is creeping up on you, getting stronger by the second. If you drink, you will stop thinking, if only for a few hours. You will stop caring about his breath, and picturing his face hovering over you, and wondering when it will stop merely hovering and do the things he wants it to do.

Why is it different? Simple. Because you want it, for once.

He tilts his head. Waiting.

“I don’t like it,” you repeat, all too aware of the way he’s sizing you up, wondering what little movement or twitch of your facial muscles might give you away. “I want it gone.” You are still picturing exactly what those eyes look like when they’re so close that they make yours go blurry and crossed. He didn’t kiss you then - he still hasn’t. But that’s only another thing to fear. It will happen, and everything else along with it. It’s only a matter of time. “Go away.”

“No.” He pushes the glass towards you, and the bottle along with it. He doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t leave.

You should pour it down the sink, or throw it out the window. He’d probably let you. He never forces you to accept anything he gives you, although the look of genuine disappointment in his eyes when you refuse is so unsettling that you usually play along. “Why…” You drop your gaze along with the rest of the sentence. It’s obvious, isn’t it?

He shrugs. “Why not?”

You ask yourself the same thing, and come up with a multitude of reasons, and an answer to them all. You are already here, in this room, in this house, with no way out, and nothing to think about except the things he will do, and when. There is no good choice here. And there is an easier one. You bite your tongue, and then your lip, but it does nothing to stop you. “Okay.”

You hold the bottle parallel to the ground, and count one-two-three like someone once told you to do when measuring out a shot, but it’s full and it comes out fast and maybe just maybe you let your handle tilt a little too far in the wrong direction. It doesn’t go down easy, either. You’ve got nothing to follow it with, or to add to cut through the bitter taste. It wouldn’t be hard to stand up and get water, but you don’t feel like moving at the moment. The usual warm, pleasant sensation that you experience when you down the first drink of the night is absent, drowned out by the face staring back at you.

He smiles, and drops his gaze, and his cheeks are flushed, and you don’t know if it’s just from the liquor -

This was a mistake, of course. Of course. You knew that going in. But it’s too late to correct now, and there’s only one way left to go: down, and down, and down. You splash another helping into the glass - one-two-three-four-five - and close your eyes as you choke your way through it.

As soon as you’re done, before you can set the glass down, he takes it out of your hand, fingers brushing cautiously against the back of your hand before easily prying it loose. “I go now.”

You think, for a moment, that he means he’s going to leave, and take his gift along with him (a twinge of disappointment, or maybe something closer to panic, comes along with this, and you hate yourself for it). Instead, he matches the portions you’ve drank with his own. From his face, you would think that it was only water in his cup, although you think you see that faint look of disgust appear once again in the moment before he drinks. When he’s done, he fidgets with the bottle cap, flipping it effortlessly between his fingers. It’s a repetitive motion, one that might be soothing to watch if it wasn’t for the dark stains beneath his nails. He is focused, almost meditative, not even glancing up at you as he toys with the small plastic round, but there is a tension in his shoulders and the way he sits.

You feel it too. It will be a relief, you think, when the waiting is over.

He offers the bottle cap to you. Silently, another little gift in the same night, perfectly centered in his palm. A part of you wants it. But your hands are not elegant - not now, not ever - and you have accepted too much from him already.

Too much, and not enough. You watch him for several more minutes, and will the bottle to remain on the floor, instead of making its way into your hand.

Outside, a slight wind has picked up, the noise dulled by the metal slats fastened across your window. You turn away from Feitan, towards the sound, and slump forward, holding your face in your hands. It’s peaceful, for what feels like a long time. Peaceful enough that you can concentrate on the presence of your body, and the pace of your thoughts, and imagine the alcohol slowly creeping up through your veins and covering up all the things you don’t want to have in your head.

Feitan comes to crouch in the periphery of your vision. You did not hear him move, but that is nothing new. You would not have heard him, you’re sure, even if you had had nothing at all to drink. But now that he is here, you are imagining how you will feel once the warmth has peaked and faded away, and you are still alone with him, and nothing has changed at all. He passes you the bottle, and you drink straight from its mouth, barely registering the taste, too much, too fast. He snatches it back, and matches your swig -

You have an amusing thought that you know he wouldn’t like. It expresses itself on your face before you can snatch it back.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” You arrange your features carefully, and shut your mouth. “It’s nothing.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t look at you with suspicion, like he normally would. He just shrugs, and follows your gaze to the slit of starlight that pokes out from an unobstructed section of the window. “No moon tonight.”

“I wouldn’t know.” It comes out bitter, and you are only slightly surprised to realize that you no longer care how you sound.

“You know now.” He does something you’ve never seen him do before: takes off the cowl entirely and discards it on the floor. “If I take you outside, will you be happy?”

“No.” Your tongue is starting to feel heavy in your mouth, fuzzy around the edges. “I’ll still hate you.”

“Okay.” He looks away from you, reaches again for the bottle, then seems to think better of it. “We still go.”

“Now?” You don’t think you want to stand up, but you do it anyways, before he can even tell you what to do. You’re proud to note that the movement comes easily to you; if you were asked to walk in a straight line, you think that you could. Maybe you could run, too. Maybe faster than him, in your current states.

“Now.” He stands up beside you, surefooted, and grabs your hand. His fingers do not interlock with yours - instead, he wraps them around the back of your palm, and presses his thumb hard against the other side of it. His grip is stronger than it has any right to be, but it does not hurt.

“Why?”

“Why not?” He actually grins, and it’s so jarring that it brings you back down to earth for a moment. “You won’t run away.”

“You don’t know that.” You can see his teeth. By some miracle, they are white enough, and straight enough, but you are still disgusted by them. “I’ll probably try.”

“Okay.” He tugs you towards the door by your hand. “You try.”

You hesitate for a moment, and he pauses, allowing you to pick up the bottle from the floor. It is still open, but the smell of it has become far less offensive, and you grip it as tightly as he does to your hand. Then, you are out - out of the room, first, then past the staircase that he has not yet forced you to descend, where he comes up at the end of the day or night - past that, and then you are past the front door, and the wind that you listened to for so many minutes is howling in your ear. It occurs to you that you do not even know what the house looks like from the outside, but you do not bother turning around.

“This way.” Trees surround the house on every side, and he takes you into them, guiding you through the most spacious paths between the trunks. “I show you something.”

The last time he showed you something, it was not nice - you think about this, and clutch the bottle tighter to your chest, and try not to picture the bones beneath the skin of your hand, small and coated in blood and easy to break. He has similar bones in his possession, not all of them in one piece, belonging to bodies that were once people, with names he told you he had forgotten.

What are you doing? You tip the mouth of the bottle up to your lips, but he jerks you sharply in a new direction, and you only manage to catch a bit of what sloshes out. You vaguely register, moments later, that there is a clearing in front of you, and that it might be pretty in the daytime, and that there are weed-flowers at your feet, the color of which you cannot make out. More lucidly, you observe that the collar of your shirt is wet, and that Feitan’s grip on your hand is tight enough to hurt after all.

“We sit down now.” He sits, and takes you down with him, and more of the contents of the bottle slips away as you struggle to keep it in your grasp. The grass is wet, too. His face is very close to yours. His head tilts to a bizarre angle, his face seeming to blur in front of you, the curve of his smile higher on one side than the other. He laughs - it’s a raspy, quiet sound that is completely unfamiliar to you. Unfamiliar to him, too, you think. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you,” you say, although you do not know if it is true (it probably is - you don’t think he would laugh otherwise). The amusing thought comes back, and this time, you do not filter it away from your mouth. “You shouldn’t have drank as much as I did. We’re not the same size.”

“We’re not.” He blinks unnaturally slowly - or maybe he’s consciously closing his eyes, or maybe it’s just that everything seems a little slower, even the wind yanking his hair away from his face. “Closer sitting down.”

You snort. “Barely.”

“Then lie down.”

You realize that you have been wanting to laugh for a long time, and you do it wildly and bitterly, a grinning scream that you cut short with another swig of the thing which is starting to taste more like water than anything else. “I’m not stupid.”

“No.” He sways forward and puts his hand over yours, and you - after a moment, a stupid, stupid moment - snatch it away.

“‘m not stupid, and I hate you.” Your head feels light and heavy at the same time, scared and free, and neither feeling really matters, and you don’t want to think about it.

“I know.” He looks disappointed, you think, although he might just be tired. How late is it? Late enough that before he arrived - how long ago? - you were scared of falling asleep - you have bad dreams, every night - but you feel okay now -

“Why’d you bring me here?” Your words are not coming out the way you want them to. You don’t mean this clearing - you mean here, with him, forever, or however long he wants you -

“I wanted to.” He gets what you mean, you think. “Might change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

“I know.” He slips his hand into his pocket, and fidgets with something inside, and you do not think to wonder what it is.

“You should let me go.”

“No.”

“I should run away.” You laugh, because the idea of running right now is ridiculous, just like every other idea that passes through your head. All of this is awful, and stupid. Better to be stupid. “That way.” You raise your hand, and point to a place where the trees are less dense, where you think you could run without falling, if you really tried. “I’ll live in the woods. Hunt squirrels.” Oh, how nice it would be right now to talk to someone who wasn’t him. But it is good not to be alone. You think you would cry if you were alone. “You’d never find me.”

He coughs out another rusty laugh (but it’s mean this time, or it feels mean, anyways) and sticks his hand into his pocket. “Then go.” His eyes narrow, and he does not look disappointed anymore, but you’re not really thinking about how he feels to begin with. “I give you ten seconds.”

“Really?” You swing backwards where you sit, then straighten, then shake your head. Make it clear. Do you bring the bottle with you? It will slow you down, but you want it. If you do not have it (oh, god) you will have to wake up and think about all of this, and you don’t want that. It scares you. You can’t.

“Ten.”

You blink. “Now?”

He nods. “Nine.”

“Fuck.” You rise clumsily to your feet, stumble on your first step, and take off straight ahead, with what’s left of your liquor held tight to your chest. The trees are dense, your footing unstable, and suddenly you are going sideways when you mean to go straight - a branch scratches your face, and you grab it, as if to tear it straight off the tree. What number is he on? He was not talking loudly, and you cannot hear it except in your own head, where you are trying to keep track. Three, two?

You hear the crackle of dead leaves somewhere close. Closer. Then his hand is on yours, and you have fallen, and you have no idea which one of these things happened first, and your hands are empty, and the ground is wet on your back. You open your mouth. At the same moment, you feel something hard and sharp against your neck, but you don’t register that in time to stop yourself from speaking - or attempting to. You don’t know what you’re trying to say.

“You stop talking now.” The blade that appeared from nowhere (his pocket?) presses down, just shy of breaking the skin, and does not move for what feels like a very long time. But time is strange at the moment. You are not as scared as you are confused. You do not talk, and he takes it away, and it is such a relief that you do not think much about the other things. He is warm on top of you (he is lying on top of you) but not very heavy (but blurry) and his face is close and you can feel his breath on your face and it does not smell bad. Just like yours. The rest of that smell is pouring out on the ground (you heard the bottle crack when you dropped it, you think).

He kisses you before you can laugh about it, or cry about it, and his tongue is strange and slow and thick. Your hands come up, and push, but they fall down before long, and he kisses your neck. Bites. Doesn’t hurt very much at all. Knife catches at the neckline of your shirt, cuts -

Not far. His hand is not steady. Slips. Prick. You don’t think you’re bleeding but you wouldn’t know if you were. Nothing hurts. You think you hear him curse. Heavy metal leaves you and thuds in the pretty wet grass. There’s a strange expression on his face which makes you think that he might be close to laughing or crying too, and you don’t like it. Your shirt is still wet and noticing it again is a relief - you can think about that, and nothing else.

“You want to?” He tugs at the waist of your pants and pulls them down before you really answer. Your legs are apart now, and you do not want it to be him between them, but it feels good to be touched there - there - and you cannot make yourself hate it. You can’t hate anything. You can’t feel much besides him. There is a warm haze, and beneath that, there is shame and fear and loathing that you do not have to feel right now, that would make everything worse if you did feel it.

You do feel it, for a second too long, and your legs slide closer together, but not close enough to make it stop.

“You don’t want to?” His two fingers slide inside you (too easy, easier than it should be) and curl up like they’re trying to push an answer out of you, and your mouth opens and something comes out, but not words. His eyes narrow and he smiles and the darkness or something else makes it all look different than it did before. “I want to.”

Your hips move in the wrong direction, into him, and the thing you should and want to say does not come out, because he makes you feel good when you try. If he was not doing that he would be making you feel scared instead. This is better. This is the best it could ever be.

The smile drops, all at once. “Answer.”

You close your eyes so you don’t have to see it. Now, it doesn’t have to be him. Could be anyone. Could be no one at all. “Feels good,” you mumble.

“Good.”

The hand slips out of you and lands on the side of your face, slick, and you are kissed and you do not kiss back. “Good.” He says it into your mouth between kisses. His other hand is somewhere else. Down. “Good.” You try not to hear it. The wind whips up around you and you listen to that, and feel it hard against your cheek, and him hard against your stomach. Wind scrapes over your skin. He scrapes over your skin. Finds your entrance and holds himself there for too long. “You want to.” Not a question. Maybe he believes it and maybe you do too.

“Mm.” You’ll fall asleep as soon as it is over. It will be easy. Like taking a drink.

His breath shudders as he presses inside you. His whole body goes along with it, tightens against your skin, face shoved into your neck. Your eyes snap open and you fight their lids back down. When you let yourself think about it, the good feeling starts to go away. But it doesn’t hurt. It would’ve hurt, if it happened a different night, when you had to think…

He looks up and you somehow raise your head just enough to see his eyes. Wide. “Talk.”

“Feels good,” you mumble, and it must be enough, because his nails scrape your scalp and snag firmly into your hair and he is going and going but you can barely feel anything at all anymore. You lied, you guess.

It ends quickly. He says something that you can’t hear and then he is out of you and there is wet on your thigh that has nothing to do with the grass. And still, he is not done with you. His weight stays. His arms hook under your shoulders and hold tight.

One final time, you force your mouth and eyes open, because you cannot sleep like this. He’s staring at you, waiting, and you barely recognize his face at all. If you did, you would hate it.

You manage to say it. Exactly what you want to say. “Get off.”

His gaze drops to the grass. It’s quiet, for a long time.

You close your eyes. “Get off.”

“Okay.” His hand flutters against your cheek, and you feel his hot breath over your face, close enough to kiss you one final time.

He doesn’t. His weight lifts, and you can breathe.

And you can sleep.

***

There is a moment when you wake up before you feel any pain. Your head does not hurt, your stomach does not churn, your eyes do not flinch at the sunlight that pokes them through the trees.

But you would take all of those little kinds of suffering over the feeling that overrides them all. It strangles your chest and your throat and keeps you from rising or moving even an inch to look around. You hear his breathing. You hear his body shift in the grass, and know that he knows you are awake.

And yet, he doesn’t say a thing. Not yet. When he does, all the things you half-remember will flood your brain, and you will have no defense, except to hope that he has another bottle stashed away somewhere, and that he will be kind enough to give it to you.

Not yet. You feel the dampness of the shirt on your back, and taste the foulness of your own breath and the rot rising up from your throat, and smell the bitter stench of the night before. And you pretend, for as long as you can, that not yet means never again.

[hurlingdown]

LET MY FINGERS DO THE TALKING — TOP! MALE! READER X TRAFALGAR LAW

synopsis. law can't figure out why you're ignoring him. yeah, he's aware that the both of you are in the middle of a party, in public, but he's drunk n' horny as fuck and he wants you so bad. it'll just be cruel not to give in to his demands! wc. 2.1k

tags. sub! ftm! law, service! top! reader. reader secretly fingers his pussy in public, exhibitionism, nothing too hardcore, established relationship, modern!au, some dirty talk, begging, dry humping, fingering law’s pussy: the fic

Parties could be tolerable, Law reluctantly admitted, if your boyfriend wasn’t currently ignoring you. 

The bar was filled with rowdy chatter, shitty college kids without any regard for their organs drinking themselves silly (cough cough, a certain red-haired money-loving witch and a one-eyed swordsman), dancing to some lacklustre pop song that had made a hit back in the late 2000s and never since. Law couldn’t even recall its name—it was a testament to how wasted he was. 

Anyhow, a party wasn't his usual definition of entertainment, but it was good enough of a distraction. Tolerable, per se. 

What the un-fun part of parties was, aside from his poor tolerance of alcohol, was that they distracted something else. You.

You had been intentionally ignoring him for the past twenty minutes, too absorbed with talking with your friends and having fun without him. And the worst part was, you were the one who invited him to this in the first place. Frankly, he wouldn’t care to be here if it wasn’t for you, and yet you weren’t even talking to him.

“Prude. Jerk. Bastard,” he cursed under his breath, downing his seventh cup of watered-down beer and crunching up the plastic before stalking over to where you were sitting. 

“Hey sweetheart.” You raised your head, greeting him with a smile, but that was all the acknowledgement he got before you turned back to your friends and started laughing about something Law was sure wasn’t more important than he was. 

Law was fucking pissed, drink and temper-wise. You were going to pay for your ignorance. 

Then again, climbing into your lap and whining into your ear wasn’t exactly the best way to get your attention nor execute his petty revenge, but Law was drunk and horny and anything but rational right now. 

He slung his arms around you, starting to kiss your neck wetly. “Y/n-ya,” he whined. He made sure to be quiet, loud enough for you to hear him over the music, but not enough that anyone else around you would. He smirked as he saw the tips of your ears redden, but that was all the response he got. 

Not giving up just yet, he moved to kiss and lick at the sensitive spot behind your ear, deliberately moaning softly as he did so, and that succeeded in making your breath stutter. 

Much to his displeasure, however, you placed one hand on his hip, squeezing lightly as though to express your disapproval. He frowned, wriggling to get closer to you on your lap. 

“Are you ignoring me?” he griped, slapping his hands on the sides of your face and forcing you to look at him. “Why are you ignoring me?” 

“Law,” you murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Not now.” 

He shook his head stubbornly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as he started to grind down on you. “But I’m horny now,” he cried out. “Want you now.” 

“Later,” you whispered to Law, trying to keep him still, but he only bucked his hips against you harder. 

You blushed furiously, shooting your friends a pleading glance for them to leave. Thankfully, they got the memo, but they didn’t leave without making kissy faces and wolf whistles, to which you scowled at. 

Law, however, was too out of it to even register their departure. 

“Pleasee, y/n-ya.” He sucked a hickey onto your neck, trying his best to press every inch of himself against you. You seized in a breath, still pretending to be disinterested, but it was clear that your dick wanted something else with the way it strained painfully against your trousers. “Please, okay?” 

You were about to refuse again, but then his hand tightened around your wrist, guiding it to his crotch. You gave him a questioning look, but then he pushed your palm against his clothed cunt, rubbing it over the damp fabric, whining softly to let you know just how much he wanted this, needed this. 

You cursed under your breath, dizzy from the amount of blood rushing to your face. “Law… we can’t. Not here.” 

“Just a little bit,” he bargained, “I’ll be so good, y/n-ya.”  

You wanted so badly to just bend him over the counter and have your way with him, but you had the decency to remind yourself that you were currently in public. There were people all around you. Sure, most of them were too drunk out of their minds to notice or care, the music was blaring and it was dark enough to hide whatever would happen between the two of you, but that didn’t make this okay. 

You froze when you felt him slowly roll his hips, letting out little whimpers as he started to ride your hand.

“Mmpfh, ah, y/n-ya… y/n-ya,” he chanted your name between moans, one hand gripping your shoulder for leverage while the other crammed your hand against his pussy, using it like a sex toy. Law was looking at you with an obscene expression, eyes glazed over with pleasure and want and he looked so fucking good. 

Just a little, you found yourself thinking. Just a little would be okay, right? Right? 

“Pleasee,” Law whined, tears forming in his eyes, “I need it so so bad.” 

It wasn’t fair. No, it wasn’t fair at all. How could you ever say no to him when he was begging you like this? 

You were almost embarrassed by the way you felt your resolve crumble completely in a matter of seconds. “Okay, okay, fine. But you have to promise to behave. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it my way, yes?” 

He nodded dumbly, now moaning and whining quietly into your ear, mimicking the noises he would make in bed while you fucked him into the mattress. His hips shifted forward until he planted himself right on top of your hard-on, continuing to grab your hand and rub your thumb against his clit. “I want you inside me,” he gasped. “Wanna feel your hard cock inside—”  

You clamped your free hand over his mouth, heart going overdrive, and it was a miracle at this point but no one had overheard. That, or they were pretending not to have.

“I thought you were going to behave,” you hissed. “Just my fingers, and then I’ll give you anything you want when we get back home. Can you behave for me now?” 

Law whined a yes, pulling back to lick and suck at your fingers lewdly while you pulled down his zipper. His panties were drenched with slick—a clear sign of his arousal, and you stroked his entrance through the cloth, lightly dipping a finger inside.

“You’re so wet,” you breathed. “Does this turn you on? Doing it in public?” 

“No, no… ‘s all for you,” he moaned around your digits, “y/n-ya. S’wet only for you.” 

You exhaled shakily at his words, having not expected that. Drunk Law was dangerous, you realised. 

“Keep saying shit like that, and you’re going to get us caught,” you muttered, pushing his panties aside to reveal his soaked cunt. Fuck, he was so pretty, above and underneath. 

You rubbed your thumb in slow but meaningful circles on his clit as he whimpered and shuddered. “Don’t tease, hnn, just put it in already…” 

“Be patient.” You pushed a digit past his folds, the glide smooth and easy with slick coating his walls. You crooked your finger to loosen him up, sliding another one inside to feel out the filthy stretch. 

“More,” he demanded, rocking his hips to try in a futile attempt to take your fingers deeper. 

You pulled out the fingers he was sucking on with a wet ‘pop’ while continuing to scissor him lazily with your other hand. You reached under his shirt to fondle his chest, rolling his nipple between your spit-soaked fingers before giving it a sharp pinch.

“Y/n-ya…!” He jolted in your lap with a startled whine, head falling to rest on your shoulder. “Hngh, not so sudden…” 

You ignored his protests, murmuring into his ear, “Lower your voice or you won’t be getting any more than this. That is, unless you want them to hear.” 

Law shook his head, eyes blown wide with lust, and he stuffed the front of his shirt into his mouth to muffle his moans. He could be good for you when he needed to be.

Pleased by his reaction, you started to pump your fingers in and out of him. You set a slow yet consistent pace, and he tightened his hold on your shoulders every time you curled them. His thighs were trembling with the effort of holding himself back, trying his hardest not to grind back against you—it was almost cute how the threat of taking away what he wanted gave you so much power over him. 

“So good, baby,” you praised. “I think you deserve a reward for that. Do you?” 

“Yes,” he whined through the makeshift gag. “Please.” 

You grinned. He was being so obedient today, you couldn’t help but spoil him a little. Hand trailing down to grip his waist and hold him in place, you suddenly flicked your wrist upwards with your other hand, crushing the pads of your fingers directly against his sweet spot. 

Law jerked violently in your lap, sobbing out a profanity. His shirt had slipped from his lips, but you continued to rub incessantly at the same area, hearing him let out broken whine after whine through clenched teeth, legs shaking from the overstimulation. “S’good,” he slurred, “don’t stop, please, please—”

He wasn’t exactly being quiet and good like he promised, but seeing Law lose all semblance of control from being pleasured just by your fingers was such a turn-on that you couldn’t bring yourself to stop—the prospect of being seen only added to the excitement.

You started to pump your fingers faster, your other hand reaching down to play with his clit, pinching and massaging the nub as he wailed out. 

You were about to warn him about his volume, but then a sharp pain on your shoulder made you seize up—you realised he had bit you to smother his desperate noises. His walls were spasming around your fingers with every thrust, and even if you couldn’t see his face, you knew exactly how much of a fucked-out mess he looked like right now, had seen him lost in pleasure way too many times to count that the sight had engraved itself into your mind. 

Fuck. This was so hot.

“Are you close?” you asked, and he whined a yes, biting you harder in response. “Good. You’re so good. Kiss me, baby.” 

He complied, reeling back to clumsily press his lips against you, letting you kiss him wet and rough and hungry, swallowing his needy moans. “Close, close,” he panted, and you fucked your fingers into him harder, tongue slipping into his mouth as he responded to the kiss sloppily, drool trickling down his chin and neck. “I’m gonna cum, y/n-ya, please—” 

“Cum for me, Law.” 

Law shivered at the authoritative tone at the same time as you rammed your fingers into his sweet spot, hard. With a muffled cry, he clamped up tight, cumming all over your fingers. Warm milky liquid gushed out from his abused hole in a flood as his nails dug into your shoulders so hard you were sure they were going to leave crescent-shaped scars, and you groaned out as well.

You continued to rub his clit roughly, milking him throughout his orgasm while he twitched and spasmed, letting out a sobbing keen of your name as his pussy gave another weak spurt of cum. 

Exhausted, he slumped down into your arms, stretched cunt clenching around nothing. “Y/n-ya…” he panted.  

“Was that okay?” you murmured, worry creeping into your chest. It wasn’t your first time fingering him to completion and your sex life wasn’t particularly vanilla, but doing it in a public setting was still new to you and adventurous for your standards. 

Law gave you a tired look of disbelief. “I can’t feel my legs. Was that okay?” 

You laughed at his snarky tone, kissing his cheek as you zipped him back up. “I’ll carry you home and then I’ll make it up to you, yeah?” 

“Mm… you better.”  masterlist! # the gif (because fingers, get it? ok i’ll stop) anyhow this is my third time blue-balling reader hahahehah

[coeurify]

perfect girl | ellie williams.

tlou2 ellie williams x fem!reader. college modern au universe. word count 6.8k. proofread barely. part two here

ellie is the most known dealer on campus, and reader is a stuck up, bitchy, sorority girl. somehow ending up near each other at every party, despite constant fighting. this party is no different, at first

this is smut, 18+ only. included use of pet names, mean!ellie, mean!reader, name calling.. fingering r!receiving.. etc. its a bit filthy. i wrote when high

Honestly, you hated frat parties. The loud music, the humid air and noisy college students that all reaked of jungle juice and sweat. None of it appealed to you— you always left feeling dirty and with a headache. But being in the university’s biggest sorority meant it was sort of a needed appearance.

Even now, when you were stressed beyond belief over the three different exams on monday morning. You had still been dragged out by your sorority sisters with the promise of a great party.

It never was great though. Never.

Usually you found yourself shoo-ing off shirtless frat boys advances, cup in your hand that had a bit too much cheap vodka and too little juice. If you had to deal with these things, you may as well be tipsy enough for it.

Though, the alcohol never made you any less in control of yourself. Control was what you valued most, being able to easily keep yourself in check. Making sure your well taken care of clothes never crinkled, ensuring no piece of hair was out of place. This in turn usually meant you took the role of watching over your sorority sisters. Eyeing any boys who got too touchy when they were drunk, snapping at frat guys when they didn’t take a hint. cleaning their face of tears or sweat, reapplying their mascara or lip gloss when they couldn’t. Holding their drinks with your perfectly manicured hands when they needed to pee.

You didn’t judge them for how they acted, you knew they were just having fun. Sometimes you wish you could let go like that too, join in on their dances.. giggle loudly and flirt with boys with drunken courage. But you never did. You probably wouldn’t tonight, even when your friend Dina had taken the role of sober one of the group so you could try and have fun. You still just stood straight up and watched on.

You were untouchable, everyone knew it. You saw the way boys looked at you— like they were falling over themselves just for a chance you might talk to them. Girls whispered about you, whether it be good or bad.. you didn’t exactly care. You had been called a prissy bitch one too many times to truly give a shit what other twenty somethings had to say about your attitude. You enjoyed being something no one could reach. It made you feel powerful. You rarely gave anyone that wasn’t your friends the time of day at these things, and god did it drive people crazy.

You always positioned yourself somewhere like the drink table at every party, watching on as if it was a live show for you to consume. In some ways it was.. you were always a watcher, never involved. So looking on was usually your only source of fun at these things.

Tonight was no different— eyes steady on the large group of people dancing, more so falling over each other, in the center of the room. It was grossly humid, and the flashing lights hurt your eyes. Everyone was pressed too close together— far too big of a crowd for this tiny off campus fraternity.

You found a more open place between the scratchy and old couch and the pop up plastic table. It held half empty bottles and a punch bowl full of some concoction that made you shake your head at girls when they tried to take a cup.

You stand stiffly against the wall— refusing to sit, let alone lean against the couch next to you. You didn't even want to imagine how disgusting it was.. swearing it was a lighter shade of grey last time you were here. This choice of station however was opening yourself up to a night of pure torture from a particular presence that seemed to haunt every. fucking. frat party.

Ellie Williams. Right on cue she walked over, ignoring you as she plopped down onto the couch with a few of the frat boys. She opens a little bag and turns in to face them. Of course. Obviously the stoners would choose the couch as their designated spot for the night.

Even if she had not acknowledged you, you already were burning with annoyance. The orange lighting currently overhead painted you the same color your insides felt. A growing flame, dull and orange in the pit of your stomach.

Ellie was a usual attendee at these parties. But not with a group of friends or some sorority like a normal person. No, Ellie was the chosen dealer for most fraternities of the university.. meaning she almost always showed up to smoke and give out to stingy college students.

But god, you could not understand what made her the choice for these people. You found her utterly obnoxious. She was loud— had the mouth of a sailor, and was always making god awful jokes. She had no shame— outwardly talking to whoever she wanted however she wanted, flirting with girls no matter the situation. Because Ellie also referred to sit out on the side of the parties, it meant you unfortunately spent a lot of time around her. You heard every stupid joke, smelt every gross joint, watched every girl swoon over her atrocious flirting. It was miserable really.

And god did she love to annoy you. It was too easy. She had discovered that at the start of last spring semester, and since then, almost a year ago, had made it a fun game for her. It became routine — and you swore she did it on purpose. Found somewhere close to you, invaded your space, and made the party even worse. Ellie would never admit that though.

Tonight wasn’t different. You couldn’t avoid your eyes drifting to where she was collecting cash from a few frat guys, loudly laughing and making jokes about some Jurassic Park movie that a frat guy promised to put on the projector later.

“Nah, the second one is way better!” The frat boy, Josh from Sigma something-something (you didnt care to remember the names) argued.

Ellie quickly shook her head, and you noticed she was wearing that messy half up half down hairstyle you once told her looked dumb. “You fucking idiot, the first is way better! It's iconic and so are the dinosaurs in it!” she fights back, lightheartedly shoving Josh’s arm.

God, did she have to be so loud? It was already loud enough with the shitty music playing. You tuned out the rest of the conversation.. or attempted to. Ellie’s laugh made its way up and over the beat of the song playing. You looked over again, watching the way her head fell back. Even from here you could see the freckles on her face. The low colorful flashing lights of the room made them hard to see sometimes, though. Not that you cared.

Eventually, Josh and the three other boys got up and moved away from the couch— emptying the line of sight from you to Ellie. She caught your gaze before you could look away, and smiled that stupid cocky smile she always did.

“Need somethin’ princess?” Ellie questioned as she scooted to the seat closest to the edge you stood closest to. The name made you clench your fist tightly around the cup in your hands. She had adopted this nickname for you after commenting about 1200 times how you dressed and acted at these parties. ‘Stuck up princess’ she had called you after one particular comment. It stuck after that.

“Nope,” you popped the P, sipping at the vodka in your cup and refusing to meet her eyes again.

“You were staring.”

“Was not, you got my attention by being obnoxiously loud,” you bit back.

Ellie held her hands up in surrender, “Whatever you say.”

You scoffed, turning your nose up and looking at the center of the party again. Mentally you counted your friend group and where they all were in the crowd. One finger came to press a strand of hair back into your hairdo, and then press a hand to smooth your shirt. You just wanted to get through the next hour or two and get home to study.

You can hear the flick of a lighter next to you, and bite back a sigh. Ellie had been sitting here all of five minutes and had already resorted to smoking. Unsurprisingly.

When the smell soon invades the small space between you, and that flame of annoyance in your belly grows to a small blaze.

At first you ignore it, sniffing and rubbing your nose like it would make the smell disappear. You glance around the room, eyeing some particularly loud and annoying men who were whooping and hollering. Soon though, the smell became too much. You turned to face the couch.

“Ugh,” you make a noise of disgust, loud enough for Ellie to turn her head to you. You pair the sound with a (very dramatic) scrunched up nose. “You smell horrible.”

Ellie smiles in a lazy sort of way, legs spread comfortably on the couch and head leaned slightly to look at you. She makes it a point to blow the next puff from the joint straight at you— enjoying the way your hands come to swat away the smoke like it was poison. “S’ just weed princess.. can't hurt you.”

Your arms cross, and Ellie watches as they press against the pretty baby blue lace shirt you're wearing.. too clean, too soft for a party like this. “It can make me stink though, like I already pointed out. Some of us care about things like personal hygiene, Williams,” you argue, to which she whistles, adding a quiet, “damn, low blow..”

She sits up straighter, leaning forward to inspect you. Seeing the pretty skirt that falls to your mid thigh— Ellie doesn’t doubt even for a moment that the white fabric caught lingering stares of every horny drunk college boy in the room when you walked in with your group.

But here you were, choosing to insult her instead of entertaining a single one of them.

“What's the reason for stick up your ass tonight?” She asks, making your eyes roll.

“Oh screw you, I’m acting perfectly reasonably.”

Ellie actually laughed at that, loudly enough to make you turn your head in embarrassment. “The way you act with me is never reasonable actually, but tonight is extra bad. You look stiffer and didn’t even attempt to be civil.”

It annoyed you even more that she noticed the stress radiating off of you so easily. She always could— it made her even better at pulling on the threads of you that made you most annoyed. She knew how to get a rise out of you.

“It's absolutely none of your business, Ellie,” you snap. Maybe it was a little harsh for such a simple question, but the auburn haired girl beside you got that out of you easily.

“God, would it kill you to be a little less bitchy for one night?” her green eyes narrowed in at you and she took another puff of the joint. Your eyes followed as she tilted her head up to the ceiling to blow out the smoke.

“Fuck you,” you mumble.

“Fuck you too, princess.”

There's a moment of heavy silence between the two of you, lights flashing now between a deep blue and green. The toe of your shoe tapped into the wood of the floor, the repeated motion serving as a distraction from the annoyance that Ellie caused. Your mind falls back to the exams you have to study for tonight.

The distraction quickly ends when the voice you had come to recognize anywhere popped up again. “Can you chill out? I can hear your shoe tapping from here.”

You huff, biting the inside of your cheek. “Can you shut the hell up? Go back to your joint and leave me alone.”

Ellie just scoffs, mumbling something about you needing the smoke more than her.

You ignore it, but can't deny how your mind wanders to the comment. What would it be like to smoke? Would it take the edge off like everyone said? You had only tried once or twice before.. both at a small get together where you ended up having to sober up quickly to care for your drunken friends.

“Seriously,” Ellie says a bit louder. “Come sit and have a smoke.”

“Excuse me?” you look at her like she had suggested the two of you take your clothes off mid party. Or she had suddenly grown two heads. It would offend her, the clear disgust— if she didn’t know you so well.

“There's a huge group of drunk guys walking over right now-“ she pointed with one of her fingers to where they were passing some game of beer pong. “If you stay there you’ll just get more pissed off and strung up when they bump into you and shit.”

You eye the group, slightly annoyed that Ellie was again right about how you would react. You glance then at the couch, at the weird dark stain and uncomfortable looking material. “I'm not smoking. But if you want me to sit? Take off your sweatshirt.”

Now it was Ellie’s turn to ask, “Excuse me?”

You make a face at her, pointing to the gross couch. “I’m not sitting on that nasty couch. If you want me to sit? take off your sweatshirt and let me use that.”

You know it's a bratty request, and neither you or Ellie look away from each other for a moment, not knowing who was going to make the first move. You almost regret it, and then Ellie reaches to the bottom of her sweatshirt.

It sends some sort of shockwave through you when she pulls the material over her head. You convince yourself it's because you feel like you have won, gotten your way over the girl you hated. Definitely not because her undershirt rode up for a moment, or that her sleeve tattoo was now on display.

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” she says in a exasperated tone, but still lays the sweatshirt across the seat on next to her on the couch.

You smile sarcastically, “Mhm, thanks,” you move to the front of the couch, holding your skirt down as you sit on top of her sweater and press forward, sitting straight up so the back of your shirt doesn't hit the couch. You felt Ellie’s eyes on you, on the very large gap between you. “I can't infect you with something you know?” the auburn haired girl says a bit slowly.

“Haven’t I said it a million times? You smell bad.”

Ellie’s lip quirk into a smile and she doesn’t reply, placing the joint between her lips again and lighting it for another drag.

Just like she described, the group of college boys clambered over to the drink table, invading the corner you were just standing in to shout loudly and put the bottles wildly into cups. You cringe, shifting in your seat. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were glad Ellie had asked you to sit now.

The two of you didn’t talk, for a moment you watch Ellie’s freckled cheeks suck in slightly as she takes a drag, and watch her lips part to blow it out. Unable to tear your eyes away until a new voice comes from in front of you.

“Hey, Y/N right?” Ellie glances up for a split second before going back to looking uninterested in the boy trying to start conversation with you.

“Yep,” you answer plainly as you look at him. You recognized him in a blurry sort of way. His name started with an L… Lucas.. Leo.. La-

“Im Liam, from the last party,” he explains before you finish your train of thought. “Right, Liam.”

Liam bounces a bit on his heels, which embarrasses you. You fight the urge to curl your lip at the sight. “I was wondering if you wanted to go chill with a few of my friends and girls from your sorority upstairs? We’re gonna smoke and play games like seven minutes in heaven.”

Beside you it feels like someone has stiffened, but you ignore it. You let your face drop to look even more uninterested. “Seven minutes in heaven? Really? What are we? Fifteen?”

Liam flushes, clearing his throat to talk again. You just shake your head to stop him. “I don't smoke either so no thank you, Liam. Im good.”

The boy slumps a little. “Right. Maybe next time,” and then he turns on his heel and walks off.. looking like a dog with its tail between their legs.

Ellie chuckles, making that fire come back to your belly. You turn quickly— eyeing her. “What's funny, Williams?”

“He totally wanted to fuck you,” Ellie shrugs, watching until Liam disappears up the stairs.

You try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, picking at your painted nails to keep the blush from reaching your cheeks. “Fuck off.”

“Trust me, I know these guys. Every party one of them tries to get in your pants, and you turn them down every single time.”

Ellie looks smug as she says it— and you want to wipe the look off her fucking face. Acting like she knew something, like she could tell you more about what was happening than you could.

“You don’t know shit Ellie,” you argue, unable to bite back the slightly misplaced anger anymore, leaning forward. “Why do you even care? Are you obsessed with me or something? Not everyone wants to fuck everything that walks.”

The words have a bite to them, bitter on your tongue. Your chest’s rise and fall is speeding up as you finish speaking. You watch as Ellie’s eyes get darker in the light, the flashing lights stop into a solid red as some song with the color name begins.

“And why do you care who I fuck? hm? Maybe you do need to get laid by one of those guy’s falling all over you. Might make you a little less of a strung up bitch,” Ellie’s voice is harder now, aiming to displease you more so than before.

It works, the flame in you spilling over to a whole fucking house fire at the comment. Your hand instinctively grips your cup, reaches forward and dumps it all over Ellie’s chest.

Silence follows, and you immediately regret it.. knowing you took it too far. This quiet is uncomfortable enough to make you squirm, pressing further away from the wet patch growing on the cushion. Ellie looks at her shirt, very slowly raising her head to look dead at you.

“Get up.” It's not a question when she says it, harsher tone than she had ever used with you.

For once, you don’t immediately bite back. “Wha-“

“Get up. You just fucking dumped your drink on me, you can help me fix it,” Ellie demands again. She puts out the joint on the table nearby, messy enough to make you cringe.

You can't tell how red her face is because of the lights.. but you are sure she is fuming. The way she is stiff and slow with her movements to stand a clue enough.

That’s why you don't fight to scramble to your feet after her when she starts walking. Your fingers grip at the sweatshirt under you, holding it in your hand as she pushes past people to get to a room nearby. You follow quickly behind— watching curious eyes follow you chasing after the other. The red lights hide the growing blush on your cheeks, the music pounding in tandem with your heart.

When she pushes open a door, you squeeze in quickly after her.

Ellie’s tattooed arm reaches to the side of you where the doorknob is, and her fingers move to lock it. You swallow at the proximity, ducking away quickly.

She doesn’t speak as she peels the now wet shirt from her frame— throwing it on the floor near the bed. Your eyes don't look away as she does so. In fact, you can’t tear them away.

Her body is toned, more so than you would have expected. Not that you thought of her shirtless before or anything. Her fingers ghost gently over her own skin, wiping any extra wetness. Your pupils follow the way the digits move.

What doesn’t surprise you however, is the sports bra that lays beneath the shirt. It's snug against her skin, and you watch as she tugs it back into the right place. You watch her breathe, heavy and unsteady, a clear sign she is not exactly calm at the moment.

“You are such a fucking brat, you know that?” Her blazing eyes meet your own— and you almost shrink. This Ellie.. She was different. You are no longer burning with the anger her face usually ignites in you. No, this fire is all different.

“Oh cat got your tongue now, princess? for once you don't have a stuck up comment to make hm?” She steps closer to you, looking down to where her sweatshirt hangs from your fingertips.

“Put my sweatshirt back on me.”

The words make your mouth go slack, finally mustering up the courage to speak. “Fuck off, Ellie.”

“Im serious,” her hair is more messy now, strands falling in front of her face as she stares at you. “You made me take it off for you, so now you can put it back on me. Fair is fair, princess.”

“You can’t be serious,” you scoff, shaking your head at the suggestion.

“You do it or I go out there, tell the frat hosting that you’re a crazy bitch who spilt her drink on me. You and your sorority sisters would get blacklisted from every party before those pretty eyelashes could even blink.”

It's a threat. A threat to your power, the social standing within your group and the general university. A threat to your ego as a whole, the thought you would be the cause of something like that. It also was a quick reminder that no matter what you said to her at these parties, she was the one with the power. You could insult and poke at her all you wanted.. but Ellie was the one with half of the people out in that room down the hallway wrapped around her finger. Her.. business determined that.

You purse your lips, meeting the green eyes staring at you again. It's another fight for power. Seeing who will crack under the tension first. You find yourself noticing the freckles that dust her face again, and a small red mark on her cheek you had not really paid attention to before. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, and you look away in defeat.

Ellie knows she won, stepping even closer to you, enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of her. It does something to you that you wouldn’t like to admit, your knees going ever so slightly weak. She pushes a fallen strand of auburn hair back behind her ear while waiting for your next move.

It comes a second later, shuffling the sweatshirt in your hand to the right position, leaning forward to push the hoodie part over Ellie’s head, fingers shaking when they brush against her bare shoulder. You can't admit to yourself that it isn’t because of some annoyance that you were reacting like this. She helps a bit when you drag the sweatshirt down her chest by pushing her arms through the sleeves.

When it's finished, you both linger for a moment, your nails still near her waistline. It only ends when she steps back, gaze still set on you.

“You gonna say sorry?” she asks, eyebrow raising expectantly.

You shake your head. “Fuck. Off.”

Ellie tsks, watching your every movement. She didn’t ignore how your eyes had been all over her tonight, how you couldn’t look away when her shirt was off. And god, what would be a better way to win whatever this was than taking what she wanted from you.

“Cmon, you know I was right about what I said,” she steps around you and then forward, smiling as you continue to back away everytime she gets closer. when the back of your leg hits the bed, you stop. “You do need to get fucked, might make you a little less miserable to be around.”

Her voice has fallen more quiet, a little something new to the way she spoke.

“But you don’t want one of those dicks outside to do it, do you?” it's accusatory when it's said, enough to make you realize where this conversation was going.

God, you would never admit it out loud. not even to yourself. Everytime you avoided a guy’s advance to instead bicker with Ellie all night. The times you insulted her about something because it made you warm all over, like a certain hairstyle or shirt. You blamed her a lot for annoying you, for those jokes she makes— for how she bothers you. But in honesty, you just hated that you couldn’t look away. Not from her face, her hands, the way she smokes, or spreads her legs open when she sits. It’s absolutely infuriating how much you think of her. But you had always kept it deep enough to not think about it until she brought it up herself.

“No, that's why you always turn them down.. why you always look at me after you do. God, you don't even realize it do you?” A shocked sort of chuckle escaped her lips, like she couldn’t believe this realization either. Her finger moves to a strand of your hair that must have fallen while you chased after her.

“You want me. You want me to fuck you, don’t you princess? That's why you are always such a little priss, isn't it. Get you so hot and bothered you just can't help but be mean?”

When you don't answer, Ellie reaches forward quickly to grab your wrist, gaining your attention. “Answer me.”

“No- I don’t fucking want you Ellie,” you choke it out, like it burned your throat to say. It was worse than a shot of whatever they had outside this door.

“If you don’t want me, then walk away right now. But this is your only chance. No more after this. You can't get one of those asshole frat guys instead. No more entertaining the little arguments you start. No more ignoring when you stare at m-“

You can't even let her finish her words before you crash forward, meeting her lips in an immediately messy kiss. She swears against your lips before dropping your wrist, arms instead moving to your hips, pressing you flush against her body. You want to pull away, regain the control you so desperately cling to— want to run off and out of the party.

But once the kiss deepens, once her tongue swipes against your lips.. you’re a goner.

You whimper when she bites your bottom lip harshly, and she swallows the sound with another burning kiss. You pull her to fall back onto the bed with you, and she immediately manhandles you further onto the bed, taking position over you and not apologizing when your head slams roughly into the headboard.

“Asshole,” you whine, she digs her fingers into your hip to shut you up as her teeth drag down to your neck, wet kisses and small bites pressing there until she finds the spot that makes you shiver, hand slapping against her arm, pretty nails pressing into the skin.

She bites harder, pulling a louder yell from you. She then sucks over the spot, soothing it with another swipe of her tongue. The throbbing feeling will no doubt result in a mark— and Ellie seems to know exactly that.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” she mumbles against your skin as she sucks another spot, controlling your hips with one hand when they try to buck up.

“All those other girls are gonna know when you wake up with these littered all over your neck tomorrow-“ another bite. “Gonna know what happened, what the perfect little sorority girl did with me.”

The comment draws another noise from you, and the heat pools between your legs, embarrassingly turned on by the thought of that humiliation sure to follow walking out of this room later. You can feel your panties going damp when she doesn’t let up the assault on your neck and collarbone.

You can smell the weed on her when her head dips closer to you again, and for once you don’t mind it. You meet her lips, shaky hand still gripping at the inked skin of her arm.

She's so controlled in her movements, enjoying how you are already a squirmy mess, enjoying how she has control. It's nothing like the Ellie she was in public, loud and joking. No, she was completely serious and calculated with every single swipe of her finger, every movement of her lips. One hand roughly goes to your chest, pushing up your shirt above your breasts, not bothering to even do the kindness of taking it off all the way.

“Mm, no bra?” Ellie questions mockingly, pulling back from your wet lips— acting like she hadn’t noticed the lack of one the moment you turned to face her at this damn party.

You shake your head, reduced to little words.

Ellie watches you carefully, at your puffy lips, at the way your perfect hair is now falling in chunks against the pillow. God, what a sight. You, untouchable and pristine.. reduced to being fucked on a stranger’s bed in a frat house. By her.

“Want me to touch you here?” she questions, fingers ghosting over your nipples.. smiling when they pebble at the softest touch. Your back arches, searching for more skin to skin as you nod quickly.

“Nuh Uh- words, princess, need you to say it.”

You glance at her, one side of you fighting against this feeling of submission you can feel yourself falling into. In an act of defiance, your hand comes up and over her larger one, pressing it down against the skin of your breast, breathing out a moan instead of answering her question.

This however was a bad idea, and she immediately pulls completely back, quick to grab your face harshly between her palm. “You fucking brat,” Ellie seeths, your lips pressing open just slightly at how hard she is pressing her hand. The roughness only makes you wetter, and you attempt to squeeze your thighs together for some sort of friction.. but Ellie is faster, slotting a knee in between your legs as she looks down at you, free arm holding herself up.

“No, you don’t get anything from me, no relief for that throbbing feeling you have im sure,” she says it so cockily that you think you may melt into the sheets beneath you. “Not till you admit you want me. Admit you want me to touch you.”

Your face burns a bright red, angry and embarrassed at the same time. You tried to avoid this admittance, ready to die on the hill to protect your already bruised ego.

But then Ellie moves her knee slightly, a shock goes straight through your core. Even the smallest movement had you trying to push down against her needily. She squeezes your face harder. “Just say it, I can make you feel so much better if you just admit it.”

The line your dignity was tiptoeing on is fraying, taken over by the bowling ball amount of weight from the desire in your stomach. The second her knee moves again, the string breaks.

“Please,” you beg, watching as Ellie’s eyes light up at the words, “Ellie I want you to touch me.”

Ellie smiles, reveling in how embarrassed you look. “Where baby?”

You suck in a breath, too far gone to keep fighting, “my pussy, please, please Ellie.. need you to.”

You’re squirming all over now, whining and feeling your throat tighten. Your lip gloss is all over your (and Ellie’s for that matter) chin, and your shirt is still just pushed over your chest. It makes Ellie shake her head. “God, you look pathetic. What happened to you hm? Where’s that put together girl you love to brag about being?”

Any words to snap back die in your throat, her mean tone is making your mind too foggy. The way you are totally at the mercy of her body, of the way she talks to you.. It’s addicting. The feeling of letting go of that control and power you hold so tightly onto.. It's almost as good as the sensation of her knee starting to move more regularly against your center.

“You look like a whore,” she laughed meanly. You are sure it’s true, your skirt is falling down, your hair has snapped out of its tie. Her hand lets go of your chin, and you move your mouth slightly at the soreness. The freedom is short- lived however, and two fingers are tapping your cheek soon after.

“Open,” Ellie says, smiling when you do so immediately. “See, it's not hard to be a good girl.”

She sinks the two fingers into your waiting mouth, one quick demand to, “Suck,” is all you need to close your mouth around them.

You aren’t careful about it, drool seeping out the corner of your mouth when she starts thrusting the fingers in and out slightly, watching in amusement as she curls her long fingers slightly, making you gag. “So fucking messy,” she mumbles.

Her pupils are just as blown out as yours when she speaks again, pulling her fingers out after deeming they were wet enough. A line of spit follows, connecting to your lips.

She wipes the excess across your face, furthering that deep embarrassment that builds in you. “‘m gonna fuck you now, princess.”

She says it as she makes you sit up with her on the bed, arm pulling to set you up how she wanted, knees tucked under your thighs on each side of her lap. You let her push and tug you around— fully dumbed out for her at this point. Desperate for some relief.

her fingers play with your skirt for a moment, and you both watch intently as they disappear under it. You push into her, earning a quick look. “Be good,” the girl demands.

You stop your movements, mumbling something Ellie can't understand. The pad of her finger slides over your clothed slit— humming at the wet feeling.

“You’re fucking soaked,” she shook her head, “All from what? Cause I was mean to you? Just from my knee, baby? How pathetic.”

Another whine rips from your throat, head falling to her shoulder. She shrugs it to force your head up again. “Want ya to look at me while I do this,” she explains— green eyes now mostly black as they meet your own. You nod, trying to please her enough for the next move.

“Atta girl..” she praises.

Your panties are pushed to the side as she sinks a singular finger into you— both of you moaning at the feeling. You’re so warm and tight around her that she gets dizzy, a warmth pooling in between her own legs. But tonight, It was about you. It was about proving who had the control here.. who could make you feel so good.

“Fuck,” you blubber, not getting a chance to savor the feeling before shes moving it in and out quickly, and then she is adding another finger.. and a minute after that, another. It's stretching you so well, so perfectly that you swear you could come right there. But you don’t, eyes set on her own— a hard look on her face as she watches your reactions. She leans closer, wanting to hear every little breath, every whimper.

“What would they think, hm?” Ellie huffs, pressing further into you. “All those frat boys who eye you up at every party,” she adds with a particularly hard thrust. “What do you think they would say if they found out it was me you got up that pretty little skirt first?” She whispers against your ear. Each word is emphasized with a press of her fingers, each rougher.. deeper, than the last.

You can feel your cheeks burning, and you blink away the tears welling in your eyes. You can't help the reaction— it's too much. She’s too much. The feeling is stealing all coherent words and thoughts from your mind— making you a teary and whining mess.

It made a fire flick in Ellie’s lower stomach— knowing she was the cause of pristine, pretty, perfect you— looking so messy. So fucked out. All from just her fingers. From her words.

“Too dumb to answer?” she teases, “too drunk on my fingers to even say anything?”

You shake your head like it isn’t true, and she slows her hand. You shake, trying to thrust yourself down onto them.

“Tell me then princess, tell me none of them could fuck you like this. No one could get you this fucking pathetic other than me.”

Fat tears are rolling down your cheeks now, lip quivering as you search for more friction. “Please, please el,” you cry, “No one else no one else, just you-“

All of your words slur together, and your nails dig into Ellie’s shoulder enough to make her hiss. The answer seems good enough, and she resumes her quick and harsh movements, fingers curling to hit that spot that made your mouth fall open, tears dripping past your lips.

“Fuck yea, only me,” she groans, your words pushing her to make you come even more now, thumb rubbing against your clit. It coaxes downright pornographic noises from you. Ones that someone had to have heard. You don’t give a fuck though, not right now.

“M’ gonna come,” you whine, face falling to Ellie’s shoulder again, pressing your nose into the crook of her neck. This time Ellie allows it— too focused on the wet sounds of her fingers moving in and out of you under the now ruined skirt.

“Alright baby, you can come,” Ellie coos— finally showing a bit of kindness to you as you clench around her fingers. “Come for me, princess.”

The cord in your stomach snaps, and you have to bite at Ellie’s neck to stop from screaming. The orgasm hits you like a fucking train, shaking harshly.

Ellie works you through it, mumbling compliments against you. “So pretty, so messy and perfect for me,” she hums. When she is sure you have calmed down enough, she slowly pulls her fingers out, and then lays you back against the bed. You sink into the mattress, cheeks red and wet with tears. She admires you, messy fingers pressing to her own lips to get a taste. The flavor of you, god Ellie thinks she may be addicted. She sucks her fingers clean and for a moment debates ringing another orgasm out of you with her tongue. But the look on your face, how tired you look.. she decides to save it for another time.

For now she stands, searching around until she finds the attached bathroom, disappearing into it.

Your eyes search for her, feeling needy. “El-“ you whimper.

“I'm just getting a rag to clean you up baby,” she explains from the open door— and you relax when she walks back out with a warm small rag.

She joined you back on the bed, coaxing your legs open as she very carefully cleans you off. The friction makes more tears drop from your eyes.

“Aw princess,” she pouts— wiping with her other hand to get the tears off of your cheek and drool off your chin. “So pathetic looking.. so pretty.”

The switch between praise and degradation makes you dizzy again, eyes closing for a second.

When shes done cleaning you up, you grab her wrist when she tries to stand. “ w’nna make you feel good el,” you beg. It takes Ellie a moment to match your whiny voice to that of the girl she knew outside of this bedroom, but when she comes back to reality— she shakes her head.

“Later baby, promise. You’re too tired, wanna get you back to your place.”

The promise to not just abandon after this makes your heart twist in your chest, that cold front that Ellie put on while fucking you straying away now.

You nod, letting Ellie help you sit up.

“Ready to walk through that door?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow.

A tired laugh bubbles in your throat just at the thought, cheeks hot all over again.

“Yea. Yea, I’ll just say we got into a fist fight.”

“Fucking brat.”

[dfortrafalgar]

Hi, saw that your request were open so I was thinking on asking you for Law X fem reader where law has a crush on reader and starts hanging out and sees that one of reader’s guy friends is being way too touchy and starts touching her butt, he is also being mean to her and at one point even hits her in the head.

How would he react, I was thinking of a fluff ending.

thank you so much for your request anon!!! i really loved this one, it was super fun to write! it was definitely a bit of a struggle though, as much as i enjoy writing heavier topics, physical abuse is tricky for me to deal with, but i hope the fluff at the end delivered some resolutions <3

also, i actually really really like Bellamy as a character. i think he's super cool, but i couldnt think of anyone else who could really fit in the role he's playing in this fic LOL

Rectify

Law x Fem Reader

Law’s feelings for you are forced to clash with a loathsome person in your life.

Warnings: descriptions of brief physical abuse, implications of past abuse, very mild suggestive language, modern setting, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending

By the time Law realized his crush on you had surpassed its normal, healthy limit, it was far too late for him.  It certainly didn’t help to see you sitting next to Bellamy, tossing joking remarks back and forth.  All of you were in the same friend group, so it was truly impossible to avoid your interactions with the much larger, stronger, arguably more handsome man.  And the thought began to make Law’s blood boil.

Because Bellamy was everything Law wasn’t.

You and Law had been friends since childhood, growing up in the same neighborhood and running with the same crowd.  You were familiar with his best friends and his dad, just as Law was familiar with your closest peers.  Law liked to think that, as the years went on, the two of you grew closer and closer.  You were always far nicer to Law during his awkward teenage years, and there were a few times where the raven-haired boy grew hopeful that you might one day return his budding feelings for you, but that day never came.  And then you started college… and then you met Bellamy.

On the contrary to the black-haired medical student, the blonde was known around the entire campus as ‘The Hyena,’ and for good reason.  He was ruthless in every sport he played, a malicious, sadistic grin constantly pulling at his thin lips striking fear into the hearts of his opponents.  He was strong, freakishly so, with muscles that could rival that of an Olympic weightlifter.  His blonde hair was a hit with the ladies, and partnered with his darker skin tone and his assortment of badass tattoos, it seemed like a no brainer that women would be falling all over him.

Law just internally hated that one of those women seemed to be you.

Despite you having confirmed on multiple occasions that you and Bellamy were simply friends that you met in one of your classes, and that you truly had no interest in men like him, Law couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his chest.

Bellamy certainly seemed to like you.  A lot.

Law watched from across the room, a plastic cup still completely full of an unidentified cocktail in his tattooed hand and the large group of friends you shared laughing and chattering around you in the living room of the house party, as one of Bellamy’s large, strong hands began to circle around your waist, gripping the soft flesh of your ass through your pants.  The sensation made you jump, trying to scurry away from him with a nervous smile on your soft lips as you awkwardly laughed at the feeling, but Bellamy tried to pull you in closer.  The couch cushions sunk under his weight, creating a deep divot that made it hard to stand up.

You lightly shoved Bellamy’s chest, mumbling something about standing to get another drink, before you were finally able to haul yourself up from the warm sofa and make your way toward the kitchen in the back of the house.  Law stood from his metal folding chair, abandoning his cup on a random end table.  He followed you diligently into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he muttered.

“Oh, hey, Law!” you returned his greeting, mild surprise filling your eyes.  “I didn’t hear you behind me!”

The man shrugged, leaning against the counter.  You awkwardly fiddled with a glass bottle of beer, using the edge of the counter to pop open the metal cap.  Law eyed you suspiciously.

“You don’t drink beer,” he stated, watching as you simply held the chilled bottle in your hands without making a move to drink it.

You smiled in response, but the gesture didn’t reach your eyes like it normally did.  “I know… I just needed to get some air away from the living room for a little bit.”

Law couldn’t hold back the question fighting on his tongue.  “Is Bellamy bothering you?”

Pointed stares were shared between the two of you before you finally, lightly, shook your head.  “No.”

“Are you sure?”  Something told him you were lying to his face.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you groaned.  “Law… I know you don’t like him… but he’s really not that bad.”

“You didn’t seem to like it when he touched your ass,” the med student grumbled.

“Law, I don’t want to fight,” you retorted, firmly.  “I don’t like it when Bellamy touches me, anywhere.  I know he’s into me but I’m not into him, but I don’t want to cause a scene at a party I was graciously invited to.”

You had a point.  Liquor was running as free as tap water within the stale, stuffy walls of the house, and saying or doing something that could potentially cause a fight wouldn’t be ideal.  Especially since the police had already been called multiple times to a house just a few steps down the sidewalk from this one.

Law wished he could open his mouth and just tell you, tell you everything that had been on his mind, how he realized just recently (and yet somehow far too late for his liking) that he’s madly in love with you, how he doesn’t want to see you be treated poorly by someone who you call a friend, how he wished so desperately that you would see him in the same way, how he longed for your touch.  But instead, he stayed silent, watching as you anxiously eyed the brown glass of the untouched beer bottle you still gripped in your hand, as if the bottle was the only thing keeping you glued to reality.

“I’m fine, Law,” you blurted.  He hadn’t said anything more.  With your eyes cast down to the floor, you left your beer bottle sitting open on the countertop before retreating back into the thick of the party.

The raven-haired student waited a few moments before returning as well, his metal folding chair unfortunately having been taken by two sweaty economics students locked in a very passionate, very inappropriate, makeout session.  He pushed his way through the mingling crowd back toward the couch where he spotted you perched on the arm of the sofa this time, Bellamy practically flush against your body on the end cushion, his palm on your ass, fingers squeezing intermittently.  The blonde was locked in an intense conversation with the man in front of him, and the look on your face screamed uncomfortable.  Law felt his stomach flip over.  Your eyes caught him again, and you frowned.  A frown so deep that it left shadows under the creases of your lips.  You looked… aged.  Stressed.  Afraid.

But Law kept his distance.

You didn’t want a scene to break out.  You could handle yourself on your own.

Bellamy’s hand trailed from your ass down your thigh, your skin still protected by the rough denim of your jeans, but that didn’t stop his fingers from crawling around the front of your body and dipping between your thighs.  The feeling of his intense hand trying to pull you apart in front of another man, without your consent, made you visibly tense up and pull away from him.  Your motions finally made the blonde’s attention snap to you, his dark eyes narrowing and somehow becoming even more villainous.

“Don’t run off,” he snapped.  “You’re sitting right here with me, all pretty like that.”

You steeled yourself.  “Then I don’t want you touching me like that.  We’re not an item, Bellamy.”

“I don’t care,” he huffed back.  “I’ll touch you however I want.”

The music of the party, the chattering voices slurred with alcohol, faded completely around Law as he watched the argument unfold before his eyes.  The only sounds entering his ear drums were the disgusting words leaving Bellamy’s mouth, the demands, the insults.  The dim lights of the living room did very little to hide the way your face contorted in discomfort, trying to pull away from the blonde athlete even more.

“Bellamy, I said no,” you snapped.  

No one seemed to be paying any attention to what was happening, all eyes everywhere but where they should have been.  When you were being closed in on by a man much larger than you, no one was looking.  You were alone.

And Law was somehow so far away.

“I don’t remember ever needing to listen to you,” the hyena chortled, his voice gravelly and nasally.  “You should be lucky that you have a guy like me who’s into you.  You’ll never be able to do better than me.”

You opened your mouth once more to shout a retort, but you were cut short.  Bellamy’s clenched fist connected with your lower jaw, swiftly knocking you to the ground in a stunned shock.  You fell like a lead brick, hitting the ground with a force that Law somehow felt through the soles of his shoes, rattling his bones and making his head spin.  Your hands blindly scraped against the floor searching for your bearings, completely disoriented from the blow that had just met your bone.  You brought one of your hands to your mouth, cupping your palm over your lips as your eyes closed, trying to block out every overwhelming color and sound filling your brain with a nuclear buzz.

And yet.  No one.  Noticed.

Law cleared the floor in an instant, just as Bellamy was yelling something about your worth being determined by your partnership with him.  The fist inked with DEATH clocked the blonde in the temple, the short, stubbly blonde hairs leaving phantom singing pain on Law’s fingers.  The hyena stumbled backward, catching himself on the arm of the sofa you were previously sitting on.

For a brief moment, the med student was gloatingly proud of himself.  His father was a retired marine after all.  Law knew a thing or two about a good punch.  His thoughts were quickly retired, however, as he crossed the crowded floor to your side, quickly helping you to your feet and pushing through the crowd with you hunched over in his arms, tripping over your heels as he rapidly escorted you to the door.

Don’t cause a scene.

Bellamy didn’t follow, and Law counted his blessings.  “Hey, your apartment’s on this street, right?”

With a hand still cupped over your mouth, you nodded.  Your eyes were barely keeping themselves open, what was visible of your face contorted in a muted agony.

If Law was any less collected, he would’ve stomped that hyena’s face in with the heel of his boot.

The two of you were barely getting anywhere with your afflicted state.  Law scooped you into his embrace, your legs wrapping around his hips and free hand clenching the soft fabric of his shirt as he carried you back to your apartment with one of his arms carefully supporting your rump.  Thank goodness you lived so close, in a converted townhouse on the corner of the same street.  Law still lived in on-campus housing across town, which was less than ideal for his tastes.  He helped you fish your key from the pocket of your pants, keeping you in his grasp while he pushed the door open and entered the narrow entryway of your home.  Your roommate was gone for the week visiting family on the other side of the country, so your place was completely dark and quiet.

Law flipped the light switch on just in time to watch you scurry to the first floor bathroom as soon as your feet touched the hard wooden floor, leaving the door open as the light in the smaller space flicked on as well.  He quickly followed, standing in the doorway as you finally pulled your hand away from your mouth.

A few droplets of blood were dotting your palm, but when you opened your mouth, a worryingly large glob of bright crimson exited past your lips and splattered in the white porcelain of the sink.  Law’s stomach lurched as he watched you try in vain to spit out the metallic liquid, your entire face scrunching up as the nauseating sensation and taste.  Your shoulders shuddered with the feeling of your gag reflex bobbing in the back of your throat, forcing your stomach to hold its contents as you released drops of bright red into the white porcelain of the wash basin.

The med student’s first thought was that one or more of your teeth had been knocked loose or even came out permanently, but nothing solid landed in the sink.  As you began to calm down from your spitting into the basin, your eyes began to well with overwhelmed tears.  You gazed at Law in the mirror, his golden eyes locked on yours as a small dribble of blood and spit slid down the skin of your chin.

Wordlessly, your friend stepped into the bathroom with you, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and wetting it with warm water from the tap, wiping away the bloody drool that left your lips.

“I know it hurts, but I need you to open for me,” he muttered, gently holding your cheek in his hand as the other one balled up the toilet paper and discarded it into the open toilet bowl.

When you opened, Law reached into the back pocket of his speckled jeans and procured his phone, clicking on the flashlight without looking at his screen.  He shined the light into your mouth and, to his relief, didn’t see any chipped, broken, or missing teeth.  He did, however, see a substantial gash on the side of your tongue.  You must have clamped down hard on the muscle with your teeth thanks to the force of the punch.  The thought made a silent rage build in Law’s gut.  He turned you around and closed the toilet lid, sitting you down and proceeding to rummage through your medicine cabinet.  

He handed you two pieces of gauze wrap from below your sink.  “I need you to hold these against the cut on your tongue, okay?  Don’t remove them until I say so.”

You diligently followed his orders, taking the dry cloth from him and inserting it painfully into your mouth to rest on the stinging wound that cut your muscle.  You watched as he continued to rummage through your supplies, pushing aside boxes of tampons and toilet cleaning chemicals and finally finding what he was hoping he would see- a brown plastic bottle.  He stood from his crouching position, the bottle in his firm grasp.  He spun the item around to gaze at its expiration date and hummed approvingly under his breath.  He quickly exited the bathroom, leaving you alone for a few fleeting moments.

While he was gone, you were able to take a better look at your face.  While one of your cheeks was puffed up slightly with the clump of gauze against your tongue, you could still make out the swelling of your skin on the same side.  A large, black and blue bruise was quickly blooming along your jaw and up your cheek, your fractured capillaries leaking into your epidermis.

Law finally returned, a very small cup in his right hand and a bottle of diluted bleach in his left from the kitchen.  You watched as he poured a small amount of clear liquid from the brown bottle into the small cup before running the sink tap and filling it the rest of the way with plain water.  He handed the cup to you with no instructions before lightly spritzing the porcelain basin with the diluted chemical, running the tap once more and washing your blood away, making sure to scrub the entire bowl.  He finally turned around to face you.

“I need you to swish that in your mouth for a few seconds, and then spit it out in the sink,” he directed.  “It might taste kind of bitter.”

You carefully pulled the gauze out of your mouth, wincing as some of the light fibers pulled against your wounded muscle, but followed his directions and tossed the contents of the small cup back into your mouth, swishing with your cheeks puffed, trying to focus the liquid onto your wound.  Just as Law warned, the taste was bitter, vaguely salty, but definitely not pleasant.  Law finally stepped aside from the sink after a long 30 seconds and let you spit.  Both the gauze and the clear solution you rinsed your mouth with were lacking blood, meaning your wound was already on the clotting and healing path.

After sputtering for a few moments, the faint smell of diluted bleach filling your nose from the sink, you placed the cup down on the counter and gazed at Law, who watched you with a keen eye.  “What was that?”

“Hydrogen peroxide and water,” he uttered.  “To disinfect your tongue.  Luckily, peoples’ mouths tend to heal much faster than other body parts, so after a day or two of discomfort, you should be back to normal.”

Cleaned and disinfected, you finally started to let your mind sink on the gravity of the situation, your heart rate increasing and your eyes once again growing heavy and blurry with impending tears.  You watched as Law, avoiding your gaze with a deep frown on his lips, grabbed your rinse cup from the counter and turned to head back to your kitchen.  You quickly grabbed the fabric of his shirt sleeve to stop him in his tracks, the fuzziness of your vision causing the colors of his form in front of you to waver and warp, but that didn’t stop you from wrapping your arms around his lean torso in a hug, the warm wetness from your eyes soaking the cotton of his clothing.

“Please don’t leave,” you uttered into his chest, your body trembling.  With the adrenaline finally subsiding, the pain radiating from your jaw grew more and more noticeable.  Every movement seemed to irritate your bruised bone, and talking felt like trying to articulate with a lead weight attached to your mandible.  

With your face smushed into his clothing, you didn’t see when Law placed the cup back down on your counter, only hearing the soft tap of the plastic against the linoleum surface.  His arms carefully, as if to not shatter you where you stood, wrapped around your waist, one hand coming to rest comfortably in between your shoulder blades, his fingers sprawling out over your spine before retracting and collecting some of the fabric from your own shirt into his inked fingers.  It felt like his hand was made specifically to bring you comfort.

—

It took some time for you to calm yourself down enough to relocate from the bathroom doorway to the small living space you typically shared with your roommate when she was home.  You listened with your head resting on a soft pillow and an ice pack nursing your jaw as Law busied himself between your bathroom and kitchen, washing the cup, cleaning off the bathroom counter and sink for a second time, and disposing of the small garbage bag where your bloody gauze had ended up.  Your living room was dark, with the only light coming from the kitchen, just enough to catch glimpses of Law’s shadow moving about the space.  Your face ached from the force of crying against your bruised jaw bone, your eyelids uncomfortably sliding over your corneas, dry and fragile after expelling what was easily the rest of the water in your body.

After what felt like an eternity, Law finally emerged from the kitchen, carefully approaching your laid out form on the couch.  He kneeled in front of you and adjusted the ice pack against your cheek slightly, the tenderness of his fingers ghosting over your own.  Your heart galloped in your chest.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into that mess,” you groaned, forcing your dry eyes closed to avoid Law’s pensive stare.

“You didn’t drag me into anything.  I acted on my own,” he replied stoically, his hand remaining within close proximity to your own.  His tattooed fingers flexed a few times, eager to take your hand in his, but he eventually relented and let his limb fall back to his side.

You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, curling your legs up toward your chest.  “But you could’ve gotten hurt.”

Law bit the inside of his cheek at your words, his own chest clenching in disdain, not for you, but for the hyena that had left you feeling such a way.  “I don’t care if I get hurt if it means you stay safe.”

When your eyes opened, they were small.  Weak.  Like you had been fighting some unknown battle in your skull for as long as you could remember.  You truly looked tired and ragged, and Law wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms until all your life’s woes flushed away like the aftermath of a rainstorm.

“Law…” you began, your mouth opening and closing a few times, at a loss for what to continue with.  “I never really liked Bellamy.”

The man stayed quiet, his lips pulled in a taut line.

“But sometimes, when you get really uncomfortable, all you can do is laugh and smile.  Because you hope that acting friendly and cordial and cute will keep you safe from danger.”  Your voice was so fragile, your words mumbled as you continued to cradle your jaw with the thawing ice pack against your skin.  “I never wanted to hang out with Bellamy, but he scared me so much and I just… didn’t know how to say no.  I didn’t want to get hurt.”

Again.

Law’s own jaw clenched, suppressing a bubbling rage as he relived the blonde’s actions from a few hours prior.  A deep-rooted maniacal side of the medical student wished he could gut the D-1 athlete in his sleep, but what good would that do?  It certainly wouldn’t help you in the way you needed it.  And the fact that your attempts to protect yourself had only led you to getting attacked in the first place made his blood boil in his veins.  But he needed to stay calm for you.  Anger solves no issues.  He learned that from Cora, his best friends, and now you.

A bout of anger got you out of the situation you were stuck in, and now you needed comfort.

“What…” he began, stumbling.  “What do you want from me?  To help you?”

After a few brief moments of silence, the only sound cutting through the darkness being the faint wrrr of your air conditioning unit, you finally spoke up.  “Can you spend the night with me?”

Law blinked once, then twice.  “Here?”

“Yeah.  In my room.”

He gazed at you through the darkness, his golden eyes widened.  “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

You emitted a small gust of air through your nose.  “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

Fair enough.  “Do you have anywhere you want me to sleep?” he asked, helping you sit up against the couch cushions and carefully easing the ice back off of your jaw.  The swelling had gone down substantially, but it would still take a week or two for the bruise to fully heal.

One of your hands remained planted against his shoulder, gripping the cotton of his shirt.  “In my bed.  I feel safe with you, Law.  It’s really okay.”

After receiving your words of affirmation, Law stood from his crouched position and guided you to stand through the darkness, his hand in yours and the other clutched around the ice pack.  He discarded the item on your kitchen counter to be dealt with in the morning, keen on getting you comfortable under your secure blankets.  You gladly followed him, stepping carefully through the dark home into your bedroom where you blindly navigated to your bedside lamp, pulling down on the cord to activate the light.  The warm orange glow flooded the room, making the two of you squint your eyes.

Law could finally see just how bad your bruise really was.  A large, black and blue swollen welt tinged with red the exact size of a harshly clenched fist was carved across your skin.  The sight of the impact was much more swollen compared to the other side.  You had taken a hit most street thugs hadn’t ever dealt with.

“It’s really bad, isn’t it,” you asked, voice still paper-thin and anxious. 

“It’s… definitely a decent injury,” Law responded bluntly, inwardly cursing himself at his awkward language.

You didn’t hold it against him, however.  Instead, you stripped off your clothes, crawling into bed and leaving the other side open for Law.

“You’re really okay with this?” he asked, one more time.

You nodded.  “Yes.”

Law followed your initial lead, taking off his jeans, followed by his shirt and socks, leaving only his boxers covering him.  He carefully crawled into the space in your blankets you had left open for him, laying on his back like a plank with his hands awkwardly draped over his abdomen.  You pulled down on the cord to your lamp once more and flooded the room with darkness.

The med student felt the mattress dip as you moved closer to him, effortlessly draping yourself over his body, as if you were made to fit into the crevice of his neck.  His hands found their position around your back and waist yet again, surrounding you in the comfort you had been longing for all night.  You nestled your face into the soft skin of his neck, slow, deep breaths setting a hypnotic, drowsy pace for the both of you to fall into slumber.

No words had to be exchanged, not until the morning at least.  Your legs tangled together and your hearts beating in sync did all the talking for now.

[delopsia]

ride the lightning | rhett abbott x reader

Word Count: 7,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, slice of life, Rhett's shoulder injury, showering together, outdoor sex, unprotected sex, food, absolutely zero plot to this one. Brief Summary: What's more fun than a post-rodeo party? Running off and having your own personal rodeo right before the storm hits.  

"You've got to quit eyeing those cowboys," Autumn's already chiding you, her words distorted by the glass resting against her bottom lip. 

Hesitant, your gaze drifts back to her. Weren't quite done scanning the room, but if you don't stop now, then you'll lose the luxury of feigning stupidity. "What do you mean?" 

"You're not slick!" She pauses, taking a sip of the liquid gold that fills her cup, the taste so bitter that her nose wrinkles. "I see you looking over there." 

"Because I'm looking for someone," you chirp, your nail tapping against the table as you begin to look around again. 

There was no way that wasn't his truck out in the parking lot. You'd know that aftermarket lightbar anywhere. But you don't see him. Not by the jukebox or the pool table. Hell, he's not even with his buddy Archie over there beside the empty water trough. 

"It's that bull rider from the rodeo, ain't it." Autumn's hit the nail on the head, and she knows it. Swirling the ice in her glass, grin growing wider with every second that passes. "You sure have a type."

It's not as if you could ever defend yourself from that accusation, but you're leaning forward, voice low as you whisper. "Yeah, like you don't have a thing for blue-eyed blondes."

"Blue-eyed blondes with money." She tips her glass at you as if to further her correction. It's not until after she's downed another greedy gulp of beer that she opens her mouth again.  "At least we have the eye thing in common."

All the men in the world, and here you two have picked men that happen to be neighbors. Arch enemies at that. Classic, century-old feud stuff. At this point, they don't hate each other for a reason; they do it for tradition.

You reckon a family hobby would be healthier, but that's not your dog, and it's certainly not your fight.

...not yet, at least. 

"At what point are we obligated to hate each other?" Dipping a finger into your drink as you speak, mindlessly swirling the ice until it forms its own little whirlpool. It's pretty to look at. Blue in color, with a little cherry and framed in a dainty glass, but whoever mixed this gave you all tequila and no juice. 

She hums, looking at something behind your head. "Whenever someone coughs up a half-mil."

Your finger stops, feeling the alcohol keep spinning past your finger. The cherry stem scrapes your skin. "Our friendship is only worth half a million to you?" 

"No," her eyes finally dart back to you, glinting in the light, "but that's how much is in Luke's checking account."

You don't even want to know how or why someone would have that much money ready to spend at a moment's notice. Or, better yet, where the hell that money came from.

Whatever is behind you, Autumn seems pretty interested in it, and you've got a good enough guess that it's the face of a man you're not interested in seeing. If you make eye contact, he'll take that as an invitation. 

Music sparks to life, blaring from a pair of cheap speakers somewhere on your left. You vaguely recognize the start of the song, but you're too busy scanning the crowd to pay attention to the lyrics. There are so many cowboy hats that you can't even cling to your usual method of finding him. Fuck, and hardly anyone has taken off their rodeo chaps. How are you supposed to—

There he is, beside the coolers. Red solo cup in hand, full of what you can only assume is more cheap beer. 

He's already looking at you, the corner of his lip lifting as you meet his gaze. 

"Speaking of," Autumn's already beginning to get up, the plastic table jolting as her hip bumps into it. "I just found who I was looking for."

"Have fun," pausing to glance at who she's so focused on. You're not sure why you expected it to be anyone other than Luke. "Try not to show up on the Abbott ranch with another hangover."

"No promises!" And just like that, she's left you. 

If history is anything to go off of, she'll charm him into driving her around in one of those fancy sports cars again. You've got a feeling that she's gonna be up in Jackson before sunrise, nestled in a fancy hotel for the weekend. 

"'s this seat taken?" 

You recognize that voice.

You've got to tilt your head to see him. Towering over you like some kind of giant, all broad shoulders and scruffy as can be, rodeo dirt still decorating his unshaven jaw. He hasn't even bothered to change out of his flannel, the ripped upper sleeve falling open to reveal the thick bicep lurking underneath. The left one sits a little awkwardly. Higher. An old injury aggravated by tonight's ride.

You want to climb him like a damn tree. 

"Maybe it is." Coy.

"Oh really?" His head cocks off to the side, hair falling into his face. "Who's it for?"

You've already got an answer brewing, but you hold it on your tongue for a moment, feigning thought. "His name is Rhett."

He hums. "Never heard of him." 

Silence. 

And then—

Rhett's laugh twists through the air like a melody, the plastic chair squeaking as he all but falls into the poor thing. One of these days, he's gonna do that, and it'll snap in two, but today doesn't seem to be that day. 

His hand motions toward the lone drink resting on the table, with its obnoxious blue color and lone cherry still swirling from when you toyed with it. "What's that?"

"Something terrible," you're already lifting the glass, holding it out for him to take. 

It's strange seeing him sipping from a dainty cocktail glass. Looks so much smaller when it's in his hand. You're not even sure if he notices the severe lack of juice, entirely unphased by the tequila that greets him. The cherry slips between his parted lips, the stem catching between them. 

"I thought you didn't like cherries?" Your head tilts to the side, curious. 

"I don't." His brow furrows, all too focused on something that you can't see. "But I like doin' this." Before you can begin to process what he's just said, his mouth opens, a tied cherry stem resting on top of his tongue. 

And here you thought you'd seen it all from him. "Is this your new party trick?" 

"Somethin' like that," the stem falls, landing somewhere that you don't see. Maybe you would know if you weren't too busy watching him lean forward, eyes sparkling with something he has yet to share. "Hey, do y' wanna get outta here?" 

"Not having fun?" Your answer is yes, but you're not sharing that yet. 

"I am, but..." then, lowering his voice, as if there's a risk of someone hearing him over the booming music, "'s more fun when it's just us."

You don't know where he's planning to go after this, but you're sold.

"I still can't believe you!" The squeal of the passenger door nearly drowns out your giggles, plastic grocery bags rustling as you climb out of the truck. 

You haven't the slightest clue which bag has the popcorn and which contains the chips, but the weight of the drinks is painfully obvious, the plastic handles rubbing uncomfortably against your arms. Curse the cashier for cramming all the bottles into one bag.

"Yeah, like you ain't never distracted me so you could pay for somethin'." Rhett's still laughing, that big cocky grin plastered across his face.

"But I never pretended I lost my keys!" Raising your voice for added effect, rounding the back of the truck. 

He's already beaten you here, opening the beaten tailgate. "Maybe ya should've." Wink.

Your eyes roll so hard that it hurts. "I'll remember that for the next time we get snacks."

Rhett's shoulder nudges yours, pushing just hard enough to make you sway. "You'll forget." 

"I'll forget." Immediate acceptance. You've sung this tune so many times that even you know that you never follow through in the end. 

The back of his truck is a damn mess; square bales of hay, two empty gas cans, the shredded remnants of a flannel, a handsaw, and you think that's a bag of chicken feed over there in the back corner. The tailgate is the only open space for you to set the bags on, and it's only now that you realize how many snacks you've actually gotten.

"We probably should have gotten dinner at Odessa's instead," you find yourself saying as you poke through one of the bags. Where in the world are those candies you got?

He reaches past you, plucking a stray screwdriver out of the mess that is his truck bed. Something tells you that he's been looking for that. "What makes ya say that?" 

"Look at all the junk we got!" Opening up one of the bags for him to see, as if he wasn't there when you both picked out and bought these things. 

But Rhett just shrugs, "Don't see nothin' wrong with it."  

Hypothetically, it shouldn't take you that long to find your candy. There are only five bags, but even as you poke through them all, you don't see that brightly colored packaging anywhere. But you know they were rung up. They're on the damn receipt! So where the hell...did you miss them somehow?

By the time you find them sitting in the front seat, nestled up against Rhett's lost bag of sunflower seeds, he's already set up the blankets. Thick, old things layered on top of each other as a makeshift cushion, protecting you from the rocky ground lurking beneath the grass. One of the downsides of choosing a pasture to lounge in, you suppose. 

He's already sitting on the corner of his makeshift blanket nest, half-lidded eyes drinking you in as you settle down next to him, your knee clumsily knocking into his thigh. You'd pay attention to him if you weren't too focused on this box of candy, pushing your thumb under the thin cardboard edge, forcing it open. 

Weight appears on your shoulder. 

Those Western romances always talk about the allure of a stoic, gunslinging cowboy, weathered by the elements and the human definition of fearless. They always fail to mention the cowboys who blink up at you like a puppy, too shy to verbally beg for a piece of your snack. 

"Do you want something?" Dipping your fingers into the box, pulling out one of the candies.

Rhett hums. Not quite a yes, but not quite a no, either. It's one of those sounds that you've heard enough times to know what it means, already lifting the first piece of candy to his lips. The scruff of his chin tickles your skin when he takes it.

Blind, your hand feels along his face, stealing away the overwhelming warmth residing there, drinking in the soft drag of his facial hair, finally at that perfect length where it no longer feels like sandpaper but has yet to begin looking like the beginnings of a beard. His tongue presses on the soft inside of his cheek, pushing against your fingers.

"Quit that!" You squeal, yanking your hand back.

"'s it really feel that weird?" His head tilts, and you don't need to look to know that he's peeking up at you.

"Yes!" And there might be more to add to that, but you're pushing one of the candies into your mouth, the sweetness effectively shutting you up. Remaining quiet even as he tilts his head to press a prickly kiss to the side of your neck, such a simple gesture that should not have your lower belly twisting with something familiar.

You've got to think about something else. Something that doesn't involve jumping on and biting him like a flea. Sucking hard on that little piece of candy, eyes scurrying for something to look at. But all you're finding is darkness and more darkness.

No lampposts or porch lights or flickering campfires, just the pale glow of the moon and the speckling of stars hanging in the sky. There are so many of them up there. Almost looks as if someone has dumped a bottle of glitter atop a roll of never-ending black velvet fabric, twinkling proudly against their backdrop of nothingness. 

The weight on your shoulder disappears. Leaves behind an absurd sense of coldness as he gets up to fetch something from the truck. Odd, how you never seem to realize how warm he is until after he's gone. 

Even the poor lighting can't hinder you from taking him in. The rodeo spurs clinging to his muddied boots. The leather chaps that hang low on his hips, with the thin little buckles in the back that squeeze the thick meat of his thighs. You know there's a reason for them to be there, but the irrational part of your brain reckons they exist solely to make you dizzy. 

"Are you ever going to take those chaps off?" You find yourself asking, after a moment, dragging your gaze away from his ass. 

Rhett freezes, his hand still wedged in the plastic bag as he looks down at his own two legs. "Eventually," he pauses, cracking open one of the cans. You haven't a doubt in your mind that it's one of those spiked lemonades he's recently discovered. "Whenever my shoulder loosens up enough t' let me mess with it."

"Need help?" Words firing off your tongue before you can process what they mean.

The black and yellow can lifts to his mouth, poorly concealing the upward turn of his lips. "I ain't never said no to you undressin' me, doll."

One little sentence, and you've forgotten about your candy entirely, letting it fall onto the blankets without any care for whether or not it spills. You've hardly got to move; settling onto your knees is more than enough. He steps forward, standing right on the edge of the blanket, that oversized buckle glimmering in the moonlight. Your fingertips brush over the edge of it, dented from the hoof of last week's bull.

"I thought the clasp broke on this?" Audibly tapping a nail against it as you make your way to the much smaller buckle hanging underneath. Not thin or frail by any means, but the contrasting sizes isn't doing it any favors. 

Your fingers hook beneath the belt, tugging on the tiny strip of leather until he gets the hint.

He grunts, boots shuffling as you drag him forward. "Nothin' a little weldin' couldn't fix." 

It's easier to see the awkward hang of his left shoulder from down here, tense and lifted higher than the right one, like someone's wound the muscle too tight. Maybe that dislocation would have healed correctly if he agreed to that hospital visit. But...here you are.

All you've got to do is pull the leather strap backward, and the prong pops out of the hole. For such tough-looking chaps, they sure come off easily. One weak tug is all it takes to have them falling down his legs, falling as quickly as you'll let them, hands gliding down the sides of his thighs and past his bony knees, eating up as much time as you can.

It's a shame that you don't need to undo the buckles around his thighs, too; you wouldn't mind the tedious process of helping him buckle them back up, either. But it's too late for that. You've already gotten the leather past one of his boots, working it over the other just as quickly. 

Even as you set those old chaps to the side, Rhett doesn't make much of an effort to move, standing idle as you fold them. Eyes locked with yours, transfixed by the simple image of you on your knees, right in front of him. You know what he's thinking. You're thinking it, too. Memories so prominent in your mind that you're already beginning to act on them.

Something booms in the distance. A deep noise that rolls through the pasture like a warning of something more to come. You think that's lightning, you see, flickering in the corner of your eye, but you're not paying attention. You can't. Not when your hands are moving on their own whims, gliding up the sides of his thighs. 

Rhett's hum echoes into his half-empty can. Seems to carry for miles. "Didn't realize we were gettin' another storm."

His breath hitches. Eyelashes fluttering. 

Your hand drifts across the tent in his jeans once more. Warm. Growing heavier with every passing second. "Think we have time?" You ask as if you don't already know the answer. As if there isn't a sudden heat flushing between your legs, the voice in your head impatiently demanding that you hurry up and pinch open his belt.

"'n here y' say I'm the one with a problem," but just like that, he's sinking to his knees. Face to face, all too quickly. 

"It's not my fault that you look like...that!"  Floundering for an escape from the situation you've created all by yourself. 

One side of his mouth quirks upward, that lopsided smile so bright that it ought to put the sun to shame. Wind rips past, nudging his hair out from behind his ear and into his face, but it does nothing to hide his pretty face. Scruffy as it may be.

It must be the breeze that nudges you forward because you don't feel yourself moving. But you're leaning forward, mouth blindly clashing with his. A little too far to the right at first, and then his hair is in the way, and...

oh.

You've missed this. 

It's hardly been a few hours since the last time, but your heart argues that it's been a lifetime and a half. One little chaste peck, and then another, and another, and another, until you cease to part ways altogether. Those big arms wind around you, his palm pressing into the small of your spine, drawing you up against him.

And you're melting into him like ice cream in the summer sun, any semblance of control vanishing alongside it. Hands roaming up the broad expanse of his chest, tickling against his neck, curling around his prickly jaw, tangling in the curls resting at his nape. Your touch is nothing special, and yet he groans into your kiss anyhow. 

Callouses catch on the soft skin of your lower back, his hands shamelessly wandering beneath your shirt. Pulling it off is tempting, but Rhett's lemonade-flavoured tongue is licking into your mouth, and the wind whispers that you don't have the time for that kind of luxury. Not if you don't want to get rained on by another one of Wabangs popup storms. 

But you do have time to reach for his flannel, dragging your finger through the buttons, audibly snapping apart at record speeds. He needs to wear pearl snap flannels more often.

"Shit," he's gasping against your lips, breaking apart for the slightest of seconds, "'s a lil cold."

The world spins around you. Back hitting the ground with all the grace and ease of a newborn deer. A bolt of lightning tears across the sky, set off by the burning hands that appear on your hips, tugging at your waistband. Your body lifts, and they're gone. You're not even sure what has become of your shoes. Don't recall feeling them come off, but your socked feet are sliding against the blanket, fighting for purchase. 

Rhett's eyes snap shut, squeezing so tight that his forehead wrinkles with the effort. 

"What hurts?" You already know that look. Already have a vague idea of what could be bugging him. 

"Shoulder," speaking through gritted teeth, not bothering to ease up, as if relaxing his jaw could bring on another wave of pain. "moved it too fast." Slower this time, he leans forward, hands falling onto either side of you, and—

"Shit." He's hissing under his breath. Sounds more like a snake than a man. There's no way that he's going to be able to put weight on that left arm, not with his shoulder visibly twitching, sent into an angry spasm. 

"This isn't gonna work," you whisper, chasing the dwindling hope that your words will reach his ears but not his already sore ego. 

Rhett hasn't even opened his eyes, but he's already shaking his head. Stubborn to the end. You know what he's going to say before it even leaves his mouth. "Hold on, if you give me a second..."

You've already got an idea. "Lay on your back." Your hands find his chest, gently pressing until he gets the message, limbs awkwardly tangling as you exchange positions. Straddling his plush thighs, settled a little bit lower than you'd intended.

It's not quite what you originally had in mind, but you've never been one to complain about riding a cowboy, already beginning to reach for his belt buckle. You don't know how you found this difficult when you first got together; all it takes is the slightest motion, and it pops open. Then comes his belt and the crooked zipper that struggles to run down the tracks.

His hips jerk, thighs smacking into your ass. "Not that I'm complainin', darlin'," there's a weakness to his voice that wasn't there a moment ago. Like he's run a marathon in the time it took you to blink. "'s there somethin' rilin' you up?"

"No." Then, smiling, "Just you."

Blue eyes dart away. Looking off to the side. "Oh."

If it were lighter outside, you think you'd catch a whisper of a blush coloring his cheeks, but your vision has been reduced to dark blobs of color. Can't even tell what color his boxers are, even when your hand dips through the front of them, blindly reaching until—

Rhett sucks in a breath. 

It's hardly been a few minutes, and yet he's already so damn heavy. Thick in your grasp, a bead of precum running down the underside of his tip. Your thumb swipes across it, dragging it back up to his plush cock head.

"You're already so wet, cowboy," you muse, lazily tracing circles around his slit. There's so much of it. Dripping like a damn faucet, so much precum that you can see the glisten of it in the darkness. 

Thunder rumbles to your left. Closer now. But you just can't help yourself. 

Your mouth finds the underside of his cock. Pressing kisses onto the vein that runs along there, working your way up from his base. Tongue lazily poking out to swirl around his head, so used to the saltiness of his precum that you hardly even notice it. One of those advantages that comes with knowing him like the back of your hand. 

Like how you know that the delicate scrape of your teeth will make him—

"Ah!" Sharp. Pitchy. The closest thing you'll get to a squeal, the kind of sound that has your thighs trying to squeeze together, suddenly warm. 

Something in your jaw pops as you take him into your mouth. Sucking lazily, like you're savoring a piece of candy, not even making an effort to stop the drool from slipping past your lips. The wetter the better. Because you're pretty sure you know the answer to the question you're about to ask.

"Condom?" Pulling off of him with a soft 'pop.' 

Rhett's head tilts toward the truck, brow furrowing, visibly thinking for a moment. Then, his lips flatten into a line. "'s in my jeans at home."

Thunder rumbles once more, urging your already racing thoughts to scramble even faster. Pulling out could be an option if not for the fact that it's never worked out for you in the past, always seeming to forget in your final moments. Riding in that bouncy passenger seat with his cum leaking out of you has never been the most comfortable thing. Cleaning up is the worst, but...

Fuck, you really can't seem to make yourself care about any of that.

Rhett's belly flexes with the effort to sit up, his right elbow bracing his weight. A familiar blob of black peeks out from beneath his open flannel, that old bucking bull tattoo. Under the thin veil of darkness, it's easy to convince yourself that it's brand new. That the poor-quality ink hasn't caused it to fade quicker than it should have. 

A kiss presses to your cheek. "What're ya thinkin'?" 

"A little mess never hurt anyone," you don't know if you're talking to him or yourself. Maybe both. 

You don't realize how close you are until your noses clash, knocking together as you squirm up to settle in his lap. His left hand finds its way to your hip, burning against your chilly skin. Doesn't do anything more than rest there, touching you for the sake of touching you. 

It's a bit crude, reaching down to pull your underwear to the side rather than pulling them off entirely. But then you're guiding him up, and his dripping tip is dragging through your folds, and you can't think about anything else. 

"You're just as bad as I am," Rhett's laugh is so much bigger than any of that distant thunder, rumbling through you in delicate waves. 

"Like this hasn't been a known fact for years," and for that statement of his alone, you're stringing this out even longer. Bringing him back up before he can begin to sink into you, selfishly rubbing him against your clit, sensitive from lack of attention.

Lightning flickers. Rhett's hips shift, slipping back down your cunt, stubbornly nudging against your entrance. Manages to lift himself enough to create a blooming pressure there, the very tip of him slipping inside. 

Fuck, you're still aching from the bit of fun you had before the rodeo. Tangled up on the couch, too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to the rapidly ticking clock. Or maybe the discomfort is from the severe lack of lube. Nothing but spit, precum, and your own wetness to soothe the drag of him as you begin to sink down on him.

"Mmph," Rhett's head tilts back, pale throat exposed. "How're you so—shit. How're you still so damn tight?"

On its own, something in your lower belly loosens, almost as if it didn't realize it was doing it in the first place. Allows you the fleeting courtesy of a breath of air before his tip fully slips into you. Heat jumps up your spine, swirling around in the back of your head. 

"I should ask you the same thing," your voice comes out weaker than what you anticipated, "why are you so damn big?"

And all that's done is make him laugh again. Nose nudging your cheek as he leans in to press another kiss to your lips, his smile too big for it to be anything more than a peck. But you want more, chasing after him as he tries to lean away, helpless to do anything but fall forward. 

Gravity quickens the glide of your body, his cock sinking further into you. The curve of him rubs into a set of nerves, never has taken very long for him to find them, thick length incessantly dragging against it. 

A heavy fist strikes the land to the west, the resounding boom washing over the surprised grunt that wrangles its way out of Rhett's throat. The only reason you catch note of it is from the way it rumbles against your bottom lip, pulling the corners of your mouth up into a giddy smile. 

All too quickly, you're fully seated in his lap, fitting against him like a puzzle piece. Bodies carved to fit seamlessly against one another, lost in the blending of limbs, tangling until you can no longer tell where one of you begins and the other ends. A shiver races up your spine, pussy involuntarily spasming around his thick cock. 

"Didn't think I was gonna be the one gettin' ridden tonight," there's no reason for Rhett to be grinning up at you like this, with that healing split in his lip and those glistening eyes. Mesermized. As if he's taking in the sight of a precious painting lost for centuries. 

If you didn't know any better, you would think he was looking at the stars behind your head.

But he's only looking at you. 

It's got you lifting yourself a little too quickly; haven't even begun to adjust to his size yet. "You'd better hope it lasts longer than eight seconds."

Something sharp digs into your knee as you lift yourself, but it's impossible to pay attention to. So fucking full of him that your every racing thought has wrapped itself around the shape of his name. Oh, and it's not helped by the burning drag of his cock; a little too big for you to be riding him without lube. 

You're sinking back down when his hips lips, snapping up into you midway. Fuck, you're burning alive out here. Growing wetter from that little motion alone, that tingling heat climbing your spine and settling into your cheeks. 

"Impatient," you're huffing, lacking any bit of the conviction you'd hoped you would have.

"Them bulls buck, y'know," that smug grin of his falters as your hips swivel, readjusting yourself, "'m just playin' my part."

So annoying. 

So, so annoying.

Something about the change in an angle has him rubbing up against something he hadn't before, air catching in your throat as he presses directly into it. Shit, it's too early for your thighs to be shivering like they are, and it's all you can do to flatten your palms against his chest, forcing yourself to remain upright. 

"Keep—mmh keep doin' that." Stupid cowboys and their stupidly pretty whines. Has no right to be squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head back and forth like he's trying to shake the feel of you out of his head.

And he just keeps rubbing against those little nerves, over and over and over. Stars sparkle across your vision, so many of them that you can no longer tell which hang high in the sky and which stem from your own imagination. Whether or not that's thunder or the hammer of your own heart, you're not even remotely sure. 

A stray hand meanders up your back, his touch so feather-light and ticklish that it's got you arching away from it. Unintentionally angling him into those soft little spots even more, your pussy clenching around him so tightly that you nearly freeze in place. 

You hardly feel yourself reaching for his wrists. Only recognize the feel of them in your grasp, thick and strong from years of manual labor, yet so willing to be pinned over his head. Falling into place like they always longed to be there.

"Fuck," Rhett's teeth sink into his bottom lip, stifling a noise that you wish you could have caught, "so fuckin' pretty on top of me." 

"And here I thought you were marveling at the storm," panting into the open air like a damn dog, breathless all too quickly. As if the slow rise and fall of your hips is simply too much for you to handle. 

Rhett's biceps flex, muscle visibly rippling as the thunder crackles. "Nah," grunting, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, "could watch y' ride me all fuckin' day." 

God, what is it about sex that makes him so fucking talkative?

Your hand darts out to the side. Blindly patting the blankets until you find one of the candies that spilled out of the container, shoving it past his parted lips before he can utter another word.

His mouth wobbles. Torn between a smile and something he wants to say. Neither manages to win the upper hand, instead beaten by a secret third thing. Because now he's sitting up, wearily bracing himself on that good arm, eyes falling shut midway as he leans in to kiss you. Knocking into each other so abruptly that your teeth audibly clatter.

But the wind is twirling past you with a kind of ferocity that wasn't there before, and in the back of your mind you're convinced that you've inadvertently caused it to happen. Distant storm falling into a rage as you tumble forward, forearms resting on either side of his head, hands in his hair, drowning yourself in the lemonade and candy that paints his tongue. 

Something sparks behind your eyes. "Rhett..."

He doesn't respond. Doesn't need to. The lift of his hips is more than enough of a reply, so sudden that it rips a sharp noise out of your throat. A decade of bull riding has made him too fucking strong for his own good, pushing up into you with devastating ease. 

This...thisis something. His breath tickling your skin. Your chest against his, nails scraping at his scalp. Helpless to do nothing but whine as he brushes against those little spots once more. Long, heaving motions that jostle you with every thrust, your eyes already struggling to remain open. 

"Rhett," repeating yourself like a broken record, panting into his ear like you're getting paid to do it.

The ground shakes. Lightning strikes somewhere in the distance, volting through the soil, up through your knees, and into your belly. Or maybe it's not lightning at all, simply the dizzying sensation of his cock driving up into you with a sickeningly wet noise. You can't help the way your legs squeeze impossibly tight around him. Can't stop the familiar tingle from settling into your core, spreading down into your thighs. 

You don't remember when the babbling started, but you can hear the sound of your name twisting through the air, chanting beneath his breath like a melody. His prickly cheek rubs against yours, and you just know that it's going to leave your skin raw, but you can't bring yourself to pull away. 

"'m gonna..." the rasp of his voice has you clamping tighter around him. A whimper slips off his tongue. "I—"

He doesn't need to finish that sentence. One look is all you need. 

You are, too. 

There's no need for you to reach down and touch yourself. His cock alone is enough to have you crumbling like a house of cards, burying your head into the crook of his neck, unable to muffle every little noise he punches out of you. Downright merciless as he rubs into those sensitive little nerves over and over and over and—

A ghost of wind is enough to push you over the edge. Tumbling over the edge and into the abyss, the world around you going quiet as you cum around his cock. Not a sound breaking past your lips, head swirling round and round until you can no longer tell which way is up. 

You're only distantly aware of the sudden stalling of Rhett's hips, pushing up into you so hard that he lifts you up. Can't miss the sensation of his cock twitching, his cum spilling into your pussy, rope after rope of it, so much that you think you can feel it pooling inside of you.

A drop of rain hits your shoulder. Cold. Biting into your skin with its sharp little teeth. 

The storm is so much closer now, thick clouds hanging overhead, blocking out the stars entirely. Electricity arcs across the sky as you begin to lift yourself up before your body is even ready to move. 

Rhett's cock slips out of you with an awkward noise, slapping audibly against his belly. Shit, you can already feel it beginning to spill out, don't know how you plan to get home without making a mess of your clothes. 

A groan sounds from below you. "So fuckin' full of it," the soft tip of his cock presses back into you, and you don't need to look to know that Rhett's eyes are fixated on the obscene sight of his cum leaking out of you. "God damn."

"Well, don't...mmh, don't keep pushing it in," but your complaint is futile, and you're making no effort to try and stop him. No point in it, you suppose; it's not as if you can clean yourself up out here. 

He chuckles at that. You think the stars have secretly gathered in his eyes, sparkling in those deep blues. "Can't do nothin' 'bout it now."

"Hold on!" Your giggles echo through the kitchen, wet feet stumbling across the tile. "I can't move that fast!" 

But Rhett's hand keeps tugging you along, sliding around the corner and into the hallway. Water pours from his hair and shoulders, speckling across the floor, leaving a trail in his wake. A mess that you'd complain about if not for your own soaked clothes, so cold that you've gone entirely numb. 

Lights flicker overhead, power fading in and out as the storm rages on. Rain striking the windows so hard that you can hear it, even as you fumble down the hallway. Wet socks slide against the tile as you try to turn, your shoulder bumping into Rhett's. His hip smacks into the door frame. Your feet tangle. 

"We ain't never doin' that again," he's stumbling toward the shower, reaching for the knobs. Twists until he can't crank the hot water up any hotter. Something, anything to melt away the ice that's about to freeze over your skin.

You reach for the hem of your shirt, the fabric clinging to you like a second skin. "I thought you liked having sex outside."

"I do," he pauses, pulling the material over your head. It audibly hits the floor, the beginnings of yet another mess. "I don't like downpours 'n hail!" 

The red mark on his forehead is only just beginning to bloom, sure to darken as the night rages on. It's a little too high up to be blamed on a bar fight, but you're sure he'll find a way to play it off when his momma asks about what happened. 

Your pants are on the floor before he can finish getting his flannel off, not a care in the world for where they land. Your mind only has enough room for one thought at a time: hot water. A cloud of steam greets you as you step into the shower. The water has yet to hit your skin, and yet you can already feel yourself melting, the heat eating away at the invisible frost that has long since settled upon you. 

It's almost too hot, the spray seeming to burn little holes straight through your chest, and your toes sting. Such a sharp contrast compared to the heat that you wonder if it'll eat you alive.

A firm chest presses against your naked back, familiar arms settling loosely around your waist. "Y' jus' gonna leave me behind like that?" His attempt at sounding irritated doesn't miss your ears, but it dies before he can finish the sentence. Isn't helped by the kisses that appear on your shoulder.  

"If you can ride bulls, then you can climb into the shower by yourself," leaning back into him, your eyes fall closed. It might be the first time you've blinked since the rain began to fall, starting the moment you'd begun gathering the blankets into your arms. Mother Nature's punishment for not taking her warnings seriously.

Rhett hums, the vibration tickling the side of your neck. "Then." Kiss. "I should probably." Kiss. "Tell you." Kiss. "That we didn't bring any clean clothes..." Kiss. "Or towels."

...the towels. 

Your groan bounces off the tile walls and out into the hallway, probably even ventures past the closet and out into the living room. Why did it never occur to you to grab towels and clothes before you climbed in here?

"We'll rock paper scissors it after we rinse off," it's the same solution he uses for every conflict, but you find yourself agreeing with the idea anyway. 

He loses. Never deviates from playing rock, even when he knows full well that you will forever play paper. You're not sure if he's waiting for the day that you crack and play scissors or if he's intentionally losing, but you've got the sneaking suspicion it's the latter. He's way too content to dart into the hallway for towels, returning with more than either of you could possibly need.

"Did you grab every towel in the closet?" You laugh as you pull one of them around your shoulders, hugging it to yourself like a blanket. It's too damn cold in this house.

"No," then, grinning, "I left one behind."

He's gone before you've finished drying off, comes back one more time with your favorite pajamas in his hand, then disappears into the darkness of the house. Where he's gone, you're not sure; it's hard to tell when he never turns any of the lights on, navigating based on muscle memory alone. 

But you can hear the television turning on, your forgotten movie picking up right where it left off. 

"Rhett?" Calling out as you mosey out of the bathroom.

Damp carpet squishes beneath your feet, frigid and not at all what you expected to find yourself standing on. Only seems to get worse as you make your way down the hall, hopelessly soaked with rainwater. The old fan is already out, cool air blowing across the worst of it, licking at your heels when you step past.

Rhett's pale shoulders stick out like a sore thumb in the living room. All too visible as he moves around, hands audibly patting something down on the couch. Blankets. The ones off the bed, out of the closet, hell, he's grabbed the decorative one off the rocking chair. All to build an oversized nest, high around the edges, like he's trying to keep something out. So focused on the task at hand that he doesn't notice you until it's too late.

"Jesus!" His naked back jumps away from you as if burned by your kiss.

"Watcha buildin'?" Your speech mimicking his just a little more than usual, already leaning in to press a second kiss in between the knobs of his spine. Rhett twists in your arms before you can land a third, the swell of his chest mere inches from your lips now.

You'll smooch him here, too. 

"Our last line of defense," his giggle rides on the coattails of another roll of thunder. "Jus' in case that storm knocks out the power 'n steals our heat."

You don't realize his arms are around you until he's falling toward the couch, taking you right along with him, landing in a messy heap on top of the blankets. A box of candy rattles behind your back. Someone bumps into the remote, the movie pausing on the television screen. 

A piece of the candy bounces off your chin, narrowly misses landing back in Rhett's hand. You find it squished between your chests, pushing it between his parted lips. 

"Y' gonna keep force feedin' me candy?" He asks, that little candy rolling across his tongue as he speaks. Wonder if you'll be able to taste it if you kiss him. 

You lean in, nuzzling your noses together. "It's my new party trick."

His eyes roll so hard that you hope they'll get stuck. 

[the-s1lly-corner]

I think it would be super cool if you did Human!Jax x Human!Reader. Like the cast escaped the Digital Circus and Jax and Reader got together afterwards. Maybe dates in the city? Idk this just seems like it would be real cute lol. Also I love ur version of Jax because you don’t sugarcoat him lol.

Jax x reader in the human world

Meed to write more human world hcs, I know I made some back in.. either January or december.. grrrgrrrgrrr

And UEUEUE thank you!! Sometimes I get self conscious about how well I keep characters in character so it's nice to hear I'm not making him tooooooo soft!! Jax is like a sour patch kid! Hes sour then sweet, then he goes sour again/j

Notes: reader is gn, not specified when the post takes place, can be seen as pre or post circus, or just an au where no one goes to the circus

CWs: edit

if you two are already living together sometimes he goes into your room/space and moves things around... sometimes hides things if its not tooooo important

speaking of hiding, he sometimes hides things in your room to try to freak you out- think those realistic plastic bugs or those fake spilled cup things people use for pranks

living with him actually makes you an easier target

hes not all that terrible, sometimes he will do more than his share of the chores if you get onto him. he can be a douchbag, but

yeah no theres no buts hes just... a menace

not much of a fan of dates the require a lot of planning or dressing up... so going out anywhere fancy or upscale is an instant no go.. on top of that its just not something he would personally have fun with

can see dates consisting of the two of you going out for snack runs or checking out new places- food places, arcades, and so on!

you guys sometimes run out and get a drink or a snack and while its a bit too short to be a date its still nice, i think!

if you convince him to go on the trip... of course depending on how far it is... you might convince him to go to those museums that are dedicated to snacks! think like the dr pepper museum.. he would go insane at the "make your own x" sections of those places

can see him making a serious thing but i can see him being very likely to make something absolutely atrocious

[rip-quizilla]

The Boy is Mine (Hannah's Edition)

Thank you @carolmunson so much for coming up with this awesome prompt! I had a lot of fun writing this one :)

Click here to read the original prompt, here for the masterlist of everyone's different takes on the idea!

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Eddie's romantic night with Chrissy doesn't go as planned, so you do what any good neighbor would do and pull him out of his pity party.

Eddie was an idiot.

He had done everything he could think of to make tonight so romantic that Chrissy would finally see him as something more. See that he was worthy of a girl like her. That he could treat her right, the way a gentleman should. 

Up until now, their relationship had been casual; nothing was set in stone or exclusive. She was free to go on dates with whomever she wanted, they didn’t talk to each other at school or do boyfriend-girlfriend things. Eddie had been fine with that… until he wasn’t. 

He wanted Chrissy to know that he could treat her just as well as her country club boyfriends could. He could be romantic. He was worth more than making out in the back of his van and secret notes stuffed in lockers. 

Today was her birthday, so he’d pulled out all the stops- he’d cleaned the trailer, bought her flowers, made pasta with the fancy parmesan on top. He’d even baked her a birthday cake. Sure, it was funfetti cake mix from a box, but it was more work than Eddie usually went through for a cake. 

“Make yourself comfortable, food’s almost ready!” he gushed when Chrissy had first entered the trailer. She’d taken a seat on the couch, eyes wide as she looked around the kitchen and living room. The coffee table had been cleared of its usual magazines and ashtray, newly set with old yellowed doilies as placemats and silverware, worn porcelain plates with little powder-blue curly cues along the edges…

“Eddie,” Chrissy had said, bewildered. “What…what is all this?”

He’d barely heard her over the cacophony of sizzles and bubbles that surrounded him in the small galley kitchen. “I hope you like Italian,” he threw a smile over his shoulder as he stirred the bubbling tomato sauce on the stove. “It’s your birthday, I wanted to make you a proper dinner. Even baked you a cake!” Eddie smiled, but then widened his eyes in alarm when he remembered that he’d put the cake in the oven and forgotten to set a timer. How long had it been baking for? Eddie couldn’t remember. 

“Shit…” He hissed, yanking open the oven door as angry smoke plumed into the tiny trailer. Eddie waved an oven-mitted hand, frantically trying to clear a path for his vision to see if the cake was at least salvageable… which it wasn’t.

Chrissy sat frozen on the couch, hugging a time-tattered throw pillow to her stomach and toying anxiously with the fringe at its edges as she watched Eddie place a blackened tin of burnt cake on the stovetop. It was like watching a train wreck; Chrissy couldn’t look away, no matter how painful the scene before her got. 

“Eddie, it’s okay,” she said, voice overly soft and sweet, as if she were breaking bad news to a volatile toddler. “You don’t have to-”

“Wine!” Eddie interrupted, excitedly (desperately) remembering the wine he’d bought. He’d read somewhere that red wine paired well with spaghetti and meatballs, so he’d run to the nearest gas station he knew never carded and bought the best red wine he could afford- which was the only red wine at the gas station- but he thought the label looked pretty, so it must be good right?

"I ran out of, like, nice cups,” Eddie said, voice strained as he did a little hop to reach the matching plastic steins on the highest shelf. “Is this okay? My uncle used to be into fancy beer that was apparently too classy to drink from a can, so he got these things. Kinda makes you feel like you’re in an old-timey tavern when you drink out of ‘em, though, which is cool-"

“Eddie-”

Chrissy’s voice sounded strained, pitying- Eddie didn’t like that. It wasn’t how he wanted her to feel on her birthday. “I don’t drink wine much, so hopefully I got the right kind! I mean, wine is wine, right? Can’t be that bad-”

“Eddie!”

He froze. He turned to her, bottle in one hand and a stein in the other. His heart thumped out a warning in his chest. 

“Eddie… if I gave you any kind of false impression, I’m so sorry-”

Nope. He didn’t like where this was going.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, princess! I’m sorry I burned the cake, that was my bad- I forgot to set the timer, and-”

Chrissy winced at the pet name; he’d only used it a couple times before that, so Eddie had assumed she didn’t have a problem with it… liked it, even.

“When you asked me to come over, I didn’t realize it was…” She took a short deep breath, huffing out the exhale. “I didn’t realize you meant it as a date.”

“I know,” he replied. It was immediate, reassuring. “I know this isn’t what I usually do, and I’m sorry for that. You deserve more than… than secret makeouts after cheer practice, and lying in the back of my shitty old van.” Eddie smiled at her, hopeful. “I can do better than that, and I’m trying-”

“I don’t want better than that.” 

Eddie stopped, stunned. Chrissy winced again. “That came out… wrong. I… I mean, I do want something like that, maybe someday. But…”

Her words trailed off, lips retreating into each other as she bit them nervously, unsure of how to communicate what she meant. 

Eddie knew how though.

“...But you don’t want it with me.”

She looked up at him, eyes brimming with guilty regret. “Eddie, I’m so sorry. If I had known you felt this way-”

“No, don’t worry about it princess.” There was venom in the name now, a bitterness that rivaled the smell of burnt funfetti that still wafted around them. “No harm done. I understand.”

“I’m so sorry, Eddie-”

“Go home, Chrissy.” He turned his back to her, reaching for the knob on his stove to switch the burners off. “Seriously. It’s okay.”

The venom had left his voice; he’d channeled all of it into the word princess, and now all that was left was resignation. It wasn’t her fault for not liking him; he wasn’t even sure he’d ever liked her. He’d just known that if he could get a girl like her to like him, it might mean he was worth a damn. 

But she didn’t. So he wasn’t. Which wasn’t a surprise to him.

“Go home. Celebrate your birthday. It’s okay.”

And she did. She got in her car, brows pinched with painful sympathy, and drove back home. The spaghetti got cold and the cake was tossed in the trash, leaving Eddie with far too much pasta for himself, an unopened bottle of red, and a container of vanilla frosting. 

And then there was you.

Your trailer sat parallel to the Munsons’, a modest one-person camper on the opposite side of the dirt path the Forest Hills considered a road. You kept a plastic lawn chair and a rainbow beach umbrella in your front “yard” for days when the sun was warm enough to relax outside. Today was one of those evenings where the light was still bright enough for you to see your notebook, perfect for watching the sunset and sketching whatever caught your eye.

Today’s trailer park still-life didn’t disappoint. Your neighbor, Eddie, sat on the concrete stoop eating vanilla frosting- all by itself- with a spoon as he stared dejectedly at the horizon. Sad as the scene before you was, you loved the sketch that was taking form in your small spiral notebook of the forlorn metalhead. As if the picture couldn’t get any sadder, beside him sat an unopened bottle of cheap wine that you had every confidence he planned on drinking without a glass. Sure enough, you watched as your neighbor let out a heavy sigh, put down the frosting, and grabbed the bottle of wine. 

He started wrestling with the foil over the top of the bottle, sighing with relief this time when he finally removed the foil but groaning to himself when he saw the cork in the top. You couldn’t help but laugh when he whipped out a knife from his back pocket. 

“Please put that away,” you called over to him, closing your notebook and placing it on your seat as you stood up. “You’re going to hurt yourself!” 

Eddie glanced up, seemingly surprised you were there in the first place; he must not have even noticed you. You disappeared into your camper before he could say a word, reappearing a moment later with a wine key in hand. 

He made no move to stop you when you took the bottle, easily twisting the corkscrew into the soft stopper and leveraging it out in seconds. You smiled at the satisfying pop that echoed against the metal walls of the Munsons’ trailer. 

“Thanks.” Eddie said, accepting the wine from you with a nod. 

“You can thank me by promising you’re going to eat something more filling than frosting before you down that.” You nodded to the freshly opened bottle in his hand with an eyebrow raised.

Eddie stared back at you, his expression hard as he raised an eyebrow to meet yours. “I’ll be fine.”

Oh. You didn’t like the self-destructive undertones of that response. 

“Didn’t take you for a wine drinker.” you mused. “Let me see that label again?”

Eddie sighed, handing it to you begrudgingly. You recognized the label; it was the only cabernet you’d been able to afford in your early days of being legal drinking age. You’d never gone to college, choosing the starving artist life over classes you didn’t care about and student loans you’d be paying for over a decade. Technically, you still referred to yourself as a starving artist, but at least now you had a decent savings account and could afford a nice bordeaux now and again.

“Man, this stuff takes me back.” Eddle looked at you curiously, so you elaborated. “I used to get these constantly, it was the only wine I could afford to buy in my early twenties.”

“That can’t have been too long ago.” Eddie replied, a bit of a smile dancing on his lips. You smirked, handing him the bottle back. 

“It wasn’t,” you said wryly, “but it wasn’t yesterday either.” 

Eddie chuckled, taking a swig of the wine before immediately twisting his face with wrinkled disgust. “Oh my god,” he half gargled the words, promptly spitting the wine into the dirt beside him. “This tastes like shit!”

You laughed, taking the liberty of grabbing his bottle and taking a gulp for yourself. The taste was familiar, but certainly wasn’t pleasant. You cringed slightly and shook your head. “That would be why it’s so cheap.”

Eddie stared at you, aghast. “And you said you like that?”

“Never said I liked it, just drank a lot of it.” you giggled as the young man shook his head with his tongue hanging out, face scrunched up like a baby whose parents had handed them a lemon slice. You cocked your head, still smiling. “You know, whatever’s bothering you isn’t going to get better after a bottle of shitty wine and some frosting.”

That sobered him up quite a bit. Eddie’s gaze turned cold as he frustratedly grabbed the frosting and resumed shoveling it into his mouth. 

“Yeah, well…” he harrumphed around his heaping bite, “...beats going back in there and cleaning up the biggest disaster in the history of failed dates.” 

Your smile fell, empathy plucking at your heartstrings. “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think it was.” 

So Eddie told you about Chrissy. How he had delusionally hoped he could be boyfriend material. He relayed the events of the evening to you in all their excruciating detail, and the entire time he waited for your face to mimic hers, to display the same sympathetic pinch of her eyebrows that said Oh, you poor, poor boy. How did you not see this coming? How could you have expected any outcome other than this?

But you didn’t. The only thing he saw in your eyes the entire time was understanding. 

“I’ve had my fair share of disastrous failed dates,” you sighed. “Yours is by far not the worst.”

Eddie laughed ruefully. “Oh yeah? What could be worse than a guy who misreads an entire relationship so bad that he fools himself into thinking it was even a relationship in the first place?”

“Oh don’t be like that,” you scolded him, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “That’s not even true! From what you told me, you had a relationship with this girl, even if you hadn’t officially defined it. She gave you no indication that she didn’t want a traditional, romantic relationship with you, and it wasn’t wrong in the slightest for you to want that with her. The way tonight went down sucks to say the least, but that doesn’t make it your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong here.” 

Eddie was quiet, and you were keenly aware of the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed. When he made no move to speak, you continued.

“For all you know, that was the first time that someone had done something so romantic for this girl. It’s possible she was so overwhelmed at your thoughtfulness that she simply didn’t know how to break it to you that she didn’t feel the same way, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t appreciate what you were trying to do for her-”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” he griped. 

“Well it should!” you retorted, voice rising an octave. “You showed that girl that she is worth flowers and Italian food and wine and birthday cake! So many people walk around like they don’t deserve things like that, but in reality we all deserve to know what it’s like to have someone care about us like that.” You huffed out a deep breath; you were working yourself up over this. “Now, at least that girl knows the standard that every guy should have to live up to from now on.”

Eddie’s eyes were trained on you, ignited by the passion with which you spoke about the worthiness of love that everyone apparently had. He wondered if that passion came from a place of experience, or a place of longing for the sorts of romantic gestures that he’d tried to gift to Chrissy.

“Has someone done those kinds of things for you before?”

Now it was your turn to go quiet. You looked down at your lap at the wine bottle in your hands, remembering how many failed dates had left you home alone with this exact bottle on your counter. How many works of art had come from that loneliness, and how many times those works of art had sold for just enough to pay for that week’s meals. At least something useful came from all those lonely nights.

“No,” you whispered, “that’s why this Chrissy girl is so lucky. Even if she didn’t want what you were offering her, she at least knows how it feels to be valued like that. Let’s hope she chooses not to settle for less.” You took a swig of wine as Eddie eyed you curiously. “Lord knows I settled for less a few times, and look where that got me.”

“Drinking shitty wine in a trailer park?” Eddie supplied.

You smirked at him. “Well, I could also be eating frosting with a spoon.”

Smiling wryly, Eddie looked down into the half-eaten container of frosting, then offered it to you spoon and all. You eyed it for a moment, then accepted.

You wrapped your lips around a generous bite of the sugary substance while Eddie took another crack at the wine. He cringed of course, but muscled through, sighing as he stared at your little camper across the road. 

“So does this mean I’m destined to become you? Single and doodling under a rainbow umbrella?”

Eddie’s tone held no malice; nothing but sarcasm and mock dread for his future, but you shoved him with your shoulder nonetheless. 

“Hey, now, don’t be mean.”

“Do you at least have a cat or something?” he leaned into your shoulder, lazing his weight into you like a sleepy child. “I don’t exactly want to be a crazy cat lady, but one or two cats might sweeten the deal if I’m fated to be a trailer park bachelorette.”

“If you don’t stop, we’re gonna have a problem.” You laughed through the words, pushing him off of you and handing him back the frosting container, but not without licking the spoon clean and bopping him on the forehead with it. He may have been a little too focused on your tongue as you cleaned the spoon, but you didn’t notice.

“If you must know, I do have a cat.” you said. “His name is Fibonacci.”

Eddie nodded. “I’ve seen him in your windowsill. He’s gray, right?”

“Yeah, that’s him. I have to open the windows whenever I paint because of the smell, and whenever I do he assumes his favorite spot to soak up the sun and keep watch over his domain.”

That earned you a chuckle. “His domain, huh? He own the whole park?”

“He certainly thinks he does.”

“Well, now I know who to kiss up to in case I’m ever late on rent.”

You glanced at Eddie out the side of your eye, admiring the way the light played on his curls. “Y’know, Fibonacci and I are pretty close.”

“Oh you are, huh?” he quipped. He seemed to know where this was going, and chose to play along.

“Kissing up to me is basically kissing up to him.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded sagely. “It is.”

The two of you were facing each other now, the air between you shifting from neighborly to something more. 

“And how might somebody go about kissing up to you? Hypothetically.” Eddie’s voice was a smidge deeper now, and the timbre felt warm in your ears.

“Coffee.” you replied, “At that little cafe on Kerley. They agreed to hang some of my pieces there.” Shrugging, you feigned nonchalance but eyed Eddie with contact that conveyed anything but. “Hypothetically, if someone took me there for coffee and gushed about my shitty artwork, that would definitely land them in my good graces.” You paused, then added, “And by proxy, Fibonacci’s graces.”

Eddie’s grin was blinding as he beamed. “I guarantee your artwork isn’t shitty.”

“Ah, you’re very good at this gushing thing.”

“I’m just getting started.” Eddie placed the frosting container on the stoop behind him, forgotten. He wasn’t hungry for empty calories anymore. “You free Sunday morning?”

Your smile matched Eddie’s now; you couldn’t fight it if you tried. “Pick me up at 10?”

He winced, jokingly unsure. “That’s pretty early for such a long drive to your place, but for you I’ll brave the journey.”

You giggled, standing to make that very journey back across the road. “Oh, aren’t you sweet.” 

“The sweetest.” 

And he was. Eddie picked you up on Sunday, 10 o’clock like you’d planned, with a bouquet of daisies in hand. You immediately began protesting, thanking him profusely but simultaneously insisting that he really hadn’t needed to go through the trouble-

“You remember what you told me, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. That was enough to shut you up. 

“You said we all deserve the flowers, the home-cooked meals, the birthday cakes- right?” 

You nodded, clutching the flowers as your face began to hurt from the brilliance of your smile. 

“Well,” Eddie shrugged, “you shouldn’t settle for less.” 

[hardbeingcasual]

hiii ! this is a req for ethan landry! a super sweet reader who's best friends with ethan but introduces her friend to ethan but the friend falls for him & ethan obviously wants the reader but reader gets all insecure & then they confess ? love ur writing btw <3

at the end of the day, ethan landry

warnings: angst ??? if you’d even call it that, but fluff in the end, mentions of y/n, jealousy

thank you so much anon for your request and your kind words <3 , ps ghostface doesn’t exist in this story !!! the friend is kinda like an oc but she’s irrelevant ,whatever !

♪ at the end of the day by wallows / masterlist

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The bright lights from the party you were attending slowly started to mess with your mind, along with the amount of alcohol you had drank tonight. You were fighting the urge to leave, but Ethan hadn’t even shown up yet. He said he would, and you know he will.

You were starting to get sick of your friends company, all she did was try to shove drink down your throat and try to matchmake you with random guys, who definitely were not your type.

Eventually, the boy you were waiting on finally showed up, his hair was a mess and he was sweating like he ran there.

He spots you sat alone on the couch, staring at the liquid in your cup as it swirls around in the red plastic.

“Y/N, I am so sorry.” The apologies stumbling out his mouth were rushed.

You shrugged as it were nothing, “Its alright, let’s have fun shall we?”

Ethan nods as he motions for you to grab his hand so he can pull you up off the comforter. “Have you been here alone the whole night?” His tone was dipped in concern and guilt.

“No, I had my friend, don’t know where she is now, though.” You answer, hand still in Ethans as you drag him to the drink table.

You hear your name being shouted from the big crowd, your eyes roll as you recognise the voice, “Speak of the devil,” You say, making Ethan raise an eyebrow as he sees a blonde girl walk towards you both, but it was more like a wobble, as she was totally drunk. She bumped into a few people as she made her way towards you.

“Hey, Cynthia.” You greet, in a less enthusiastic way.

Her eyes dart to Ethan, looking him up and down, “Who’s this?”

“Cynthia, Ethan, Ethan, Cynthia.” You introduce them, suddenly feeling awkward with Cynthias stare.

“Ah, so this is the famous Ethan?” She smirks, eying you both.

Ethans head whips to you at the blondes words, “You speak about me?” He asked, flattered.

You shrug, “Sometimes.” You mumble, suddenly finding interest in your shoes.

“Let me get you guys a drink!” Cynthia insists.

“I’m okay.” You tell her, making her turn to Ethan.

“Me too, I have Econ tomorrow.”

Cynthia rolls her eyes, “You guys are lame.” Her eyes shift to Ethan, “Hey, Ethan, we should dance!” Before the boy could get a word in she drags him to the dance floor.

You stare at them go, Ethan turning back to you, an innocent look on his face, you would’ve found it funny if you were in the mood, but you were tired and just wanted to go home at this point.

You were sat on the same couch as earlier, again. Bored out of your mind. Cynthia had completely stolen Ethan from you, after you waited so long for him to even appear.

You got up from your position, making your way out the door, not noticing Ethan watch you leave from his spot where he was awkwardly dancing with Cynthia against his will.

He excuses himself from the girl, ducking under her arms that were weirdly placed on his shoulders, making his way after you.

He sees your retreating figure in the distance, making him jog a little to catch up to you. He shouts your name, “Wait!” He eventually does catch up, bending over with his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

He looks up from the ground to see your confused expression, He stood up straight now, putting his hands on both of your arms, “Are you okay?”

You nod, “Yeah. Sorry, I was getting tired.” You tell him, swallowing down the regret as you and Ethan held eye contact.

“Sorry, for leaving you, she sorta just — dragged me.”

You snort, “Yeah, she does that. She has no care. I wish I was like that.” You didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking or true honesty, but you haven’t had any alcohol in like two hours and you felt a little bit sober than earlier.

“Look, Ethan.” You sigh as hesitation takes over your words, you swallow your nerves as you look up to the boy, who was obviously taller. “I really like you.” You confess, your eyes watering a little. Which was random, why are they watering? Who knows.

Ethan was speechless, you suddenly felt embarrassed that you’d even say that. You probably just ruined everything. “I’m sorry, thats stupid, pretend it never happened —” Before you could get another word out Ethans hands were on both sides of your face, his lips were on yours in an instant, the kiss was slow and steady. On of your hands was on his cheek, the other at the back of his head, trailing it along his curls.

If it was any other time you would be embarrassed that you were kissing in the middle of the street, but right now you didn’t care.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

tags @larccroft @bisexuabed (lmk if you want added)

[sensei-venus]

Outdoor Movie Night Fun~ (Hawk x Chubby!Reader)

Kinktober Day 4- Public Sex

(Unedited) (Told through Reader/First Person, Public Sex, Car Sex, Slight Creampie, Movie Theater Sex Vibes Kinda? Lots Of Giggles, Mentioned Sam/Miguel Demetri/Yasmine.)

What started out to be just a nice night out with the gang was quick to turn into something a bit more devilish.

When Hawk suggested we all go out to watch a movie I couldn't think of anything more fun to do at that moment. But it was even more fun when he brought up the idea of going to a outdoor movie. One where they could all meet up in their cars and have a little blanket set up to watch the movie. It sounded so sweet!

“Reader can you give me a hand with this blanket?” my attention turned to Sam as she held out a large folded-up blanket. Nodding I took one side of the blanket and she took the other. With her help we were both able to lay it down on the ground, perfectly set out for all of us to sit on. We both smiled at each other.

“Great! You guys got the blanket set up, Me Hawk and Demetri got some drinks from the snake bar. Hope I got you the right one babe.” Miguel said as he and the boys walked over. Sam smiled and took the drink from his hand. She gave him a small peak on the lips before sitting down on the blanket. He followed her and plopped down right beside her.

Demetri quickly found his girlfriend who was still in her car, Yasmine refused to get out until he got out. She didn't want to sit on the ground until she had to. The two of them made their way over and sat next to the other couple.

The sound of the loudspeakers around the car lot boomed to life not long after.

Arms wrapped around me making me look up a little.

“Don't think I forgot you Princess. I had to make sure they had what you wanted.” Hawk wiggles the plastic cup that sits in his hand. The contents of it slosh around making the sound of thick ice hitting the inside of the cheap plastic. I smile taking a big sip from the straw. Hawk chuckles before leading us over to the blanket.

Just as we start to sit the lights of the parking lots start to shut off one by one. It leaves the whole lot in darkness. The huge screen at the front flickers to life with a bright screen. Seconds later the intro of the movie starts. I can't help but scoot over and rest against my boyfriend.

He wraps one of his arms around me as we start watching the movie.

Time slowly ticks by as the movie fully starts. We watch in silence, I cuddle closer to Hawk. I'm too focused at first to feel his hand. It creeps along my arm, then down my side. About twenty minutes into us watching the movie I feel him. The way his thick fingers linger over my skin.

I feel myself start to get a little flustered as his finger tips ever so slightly dig into my belly. Kneading at my soft belly, my rolls which have my face burning. The urge to gently shove his hand away comes and goes quickly. It feels too nice to ruin the moment.

Five minutes later my face feels like its on fire. My cheeks are hot to the touch as I feel him start to go lower. The palm of his hands run over my outer thigh. Then slide along the side and slowly move into my inner thigh. My eyes glance over to our friends, hoping they haven't seen any of what he's doing. I chew on my cheek trying not to make any noise to alert them.

But soon can't, his fingers move from playing with my thick thighs to my clothed crotch. They dig into the fabric, rubbing at me. The sensation makes me squeeze my thighs around his hand. I refuse to look up at him.

He takes notice if this and so in enough he switches to using his palm. Rough hard rubs against my core have me on edge now. It's warm and the movements have my pussy twitching. My clit is ever so slightly being massaged through my panties and pants. It sent shivers up my spine the longer he did this. I squirmed ever so slightly under his touch which only seemed to spear him on.

I couldn't tell how much time went by but the small puddle that was pooling into my panties told me it was long enough.

The dents on the inside of my cheeks also helped to tell the time that I had spent having him edge me along.

“Hey me and Reader are going to go grab some snacks. Anyone want anything?” Hawk’s voice hissed. Finally, I looked up to see him looking over to the others who were only a few steps away. Most of them shook their heads at his question before going back to watching the screen. Moments later he was helping to pick me up off the ground. Blinking up at him I noticed a glint in his eyes. He smirked before pulling me away from the blanket and all of our friends.

Instead of heading towards the snake bar he pulled me back towards are own car. A good few feet away from where we where sitting. The lot was dark, only the reflection of the movie screen lit up the windshields of all the cars. We passed a few quiet cars before we where right next to his. He quickly unlock it before opening the door for me. I giggled a little as we slid into the backseat together, the door slamming behind us.

I giggled looking up from him, laying down on the seat.

“God you are so needy, you couldn't even wait for us to get home. You're already feeling me up in front of our friends out there.” I smiled as he started working down my pants. Leaving me in my damp and now stained underwear. He peeled them off, a string of my pre-snapping as they were flung off onto the floor of the car. He almost looked pissed off.

He hissed out “I didn't think it was going to be that dark- I didn't know if was going to be that easy to start playing with you. If I'm being honest with you, I think I could have started fingering you out there with out anyone noticing us.” his voice was low.

Filled with a deeper meaning and edge that made my heart flutter. Blue eyes stared down into mine as his fingers went back into my flesh. Unlike out on the blanket, now they were free to feel my naked skin.

I moaned a little at the feeling of his fingers once again going over my belly and down to my naked mound. Soon enough they there playing in my warm folds. Messing with a sticky mess between my fat lips, two of his fingers circled my clit. I gripped the bottom of the seat for some kind of purchase. Nails digging into the shitty fabric.

“W-what if someone sees us.”

“They're not Princess trust me. And if they do so what?” he chuckled, soon enough two of his fingers meet my slit. His fingers where fast, thrusting in and out of me. Moving to scissor me open for his thick cock. I wiggled my hips more at the sound of his pants shifting. In what little light there was I could see him shuffling his pants down.

His boxers followed, his hard dick springing out and slapping against his belly. Luckily he noted his shirt up in time to not have it ruined by his pre. It beaded up and spilled down his shaft. A light clear fluid bubbles from his slit just right.

Removing his fingers made me whine but soon enough I stopped to watch him stroke himself. His hand jacking himself just right, one of his hands moves to hike up my leg around his hip. Pulling my ass up a little he positioned himself just right and slowly sunk in. We both moaned as he moved inside of my pussy. My tight walls did their best to pull him in. A few moments later he was balls deep inside me.

Thick head snug against the very bottom of my cunt. My head is swimming as he starts to thrust into me. Moaning out I can only hear our own sounds. His grunts over me and this sound of our flesh meeting. Heavy balls meeting my fat ass with every new pull.

“You like this don't you? Getting that fat little pussy smashed in a crowded parking lot. Any minute someone could look through the window and find us. See me pounding this sweet pussy.” his voice was low in my ear. Our chests pushed against one another. I could feel the way his hard peaks pushed into me. Rubbing me through my shirt and bra.

“Hawk please!” my arms wrapped around his neck. His hips kept going as I squeezed around him. His hands grabbing at the back of my thighs, pushing me into a new position. My knees bent so far passing me in a half position.

“Hawk please Hawk please I'm going to cum! I'm going to fucking cum.” I can't help but scream into his shoulder. My eyes well up as I start to go over the edge. Belly was tight and the band in my stomach was about ready to snap at any moment. My toes curl with every new movement he makes. I can't stop shaking underneath him.

His hard thrusts start to pick up even more as soon enough he's slamming into me. Pushing me harder into the seat below.

In the back of my mind I'm hoping he's not shaking the car because it feels like he is.

My eyes go wide and tears fall as I feel his fingers dig into my clit just right.

With one final thrust from him, I'm creaming around him. Thick cock coated in a nice thin layer of my release. I can feel it bubbling from between us, running down my thighs and ass. Dribbling done his balls as they still slap against me. It's sticky and wet, the sound echoes around the car. I can't stop my moans from flowing out of my mouth.

Moments later I hear him groan into my tits, his hips bucking. He jerks before burying himself inside my cunt one last time. I feel his balls shoot up and tighten against my ass cheeks just right.

Just a second later I feel his dick twitch. Ever so slowly I feel warmth start to fill me. It spills in by the rope full. Hot and sticky inside, painting my velvet-like walls in his milky cum. It has my hips twitching with every new role that fills me. Holding him tight we just lay there together. He collapses on top of me, his face in my tits as he catches his breath. He heaves before pulling his head from my cleavage.

He smiles so wide it has me almost laughing. His eyes are soft and warm.

“We should have tried this like yesterday.” I can't help but give a gentle giggle at his words. I certainly hadn't even thought of it before. The thrill was definitely there though.

Who knew having sex in a crowded parking lot would be so fun?

[bqstqnbruin]

Matt Rempe Teacher AU

I have actually written four little teacher au blurbs in less than 24 hours out of sheer boredom but I don't like one of them so here's the third one you get have fun

Teacher AU Series

Warnings: None

WC: 1848

“What are you doing?”

Leighton jumps when she hears his voice, not noticing the door even being opened as she scrambled to turn off her music so she could have a conversation with him. “I’m putting together first day of school gifts for my homeroom.”

Matt scoffs, inviting himself over to her lab tables, shuffling through the things she had scattered on the black table tops. “Why?”

“It’s their last first day of school, I wanted to do something nice for them.” 

“Something nice is a plastic lei, beads, and a wooden letter?”

“A: it’s something small for the first day, it doesn’t have to be that elaborate. B: I spent time painting these their class color and it’s their initials, not just a random letter. And, C: have you seen them on spirit day? They eat this kind of shit up,” Leighton scolds him, trying to push past him to get the bags together. She knew her homeroom students. She knew this was the kind of stuff they loved to get, and she wanted to make their last first day just a little bit more special if she could. Not to mention, it was all in a reasonable budget for having to make fifteen gift bags.

Matt scoffs again, making Leighton’s blood boil. “They’re seniors in high school, not first graders.”

“And what do you do for your homeroom?”

“Nothing. I don’t have to buy their affection the way you apparently do.”

“It’s not buying their affection if they were giving it to me for free to begin with. Now get out and go back to your own classroom, you have your own prep to do before students show up on Monday,” she says, trying as hard as she could to physically shove him out of her classroom, unable to see the smile on his face. 

“Did it already.”

Leighton steps back, throwing Matt off balance. “How?”

Matt shrugs, a smirk on his face. “It’s not that hard. I don’t need things on my walls and Mary already ordered all the supplies we need for this year when we were clearing out the budget last year.” 

“I don’t understand how you don’t decorate your classroom at the beginning of the year.” 

Matt gestures to the posters behind her desk, knowing that they were things for her homeroom from the previous years that she put back up every year. “I hang up students' work new each year. Let them decorate my classroom, not me.” 

“Get out,” Leighton says again, Matt laughing on his way to the door. 

That Monday, Leighton’s seniors loved their gifts, their classmates from Matt’s homeroom coming flying into her classroom to show off their brand new Stanley’s with their names embossed on them. Personal, flashy, and expensive. Not to mention, one of Matt’s girls, Vikki, placing one with the name ‘Ms. Cunningham’ on her desk, just for her. 

As soon as her students left, she took the cup with her down to Matt’s classroom. “What is this?” she asks, bursting into his classroom, thankful that he was alone in his room instead of with a student to see this. 

“It’s called a water bottle. Kind of. I don’t know if it counts as a bottle or a cup, but either way, you drink water from it.”

Leighton groans, turning on her heels before he can say anything else. She put the cup in one of the cabinets in her desk, hoping she could forget about its existence since she couldn’t forget about the person who gave it to her.

She avoided Matt as much as possible, knowing that anything he did would get under her skin and make her irrationally angry, a pit in her stomach whenever she saw him.

Christmas was coming up, Leighton already planning her Christmas gifts for her homeroom. They had gotten together and bought her a Ranger’s jersey with the name her favorite player from her childhood on the back for her birthday (apparently getting a bunch of anonymous students in on the gift to get around the ‘teachers can’t accept gifts of more than $25 from their students’ rule in the handbook), so she had to do something for Christmas.

She found someone on Etsy who made personalized necklaces for not much money, letting her put their names, their school name, and their graduation on charms for them. She stayed a little later before their last day of the calendar year to wrap their gifts for them, enjoying the peace she had in her room with the lights slightly dim, the sun already set, and Christmas music playing over her speakers.

“Now what are you doing?” Matt asks, his coat and hat already on, his keys in hand. Good, he had to be leaving soon. 

“Wrapping my homeroom’s Christmas gifts. And you look like you were leaving, so you should do that.” 

“Let me help,” he says, putting his bag down and taking off his hat. “It’s already after five, the faster this gets done, the faster you can go home and plan my demise or something.”

Leighton tries to hide the smile she wanted to mirror back to him. “That would imply that I think about you outside of work.” 

Matt shrugs, taking the necklace for Leah and wrapping it with more care than she had been. “I think about you outside work.”

Leighton rips the wrapping paper, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

“Yeah, wondering why you do this type of stuff.” 

Leighton swallows. “A couple of my girls' parents don’t have a ton of money. They can’t really afford to get them all the nice gifts that some of the other girls get. At least this way, I know they get something, and I know that it’s something that’s just as nice as the other girls get. I was that kid who would watch their friends opening these amazing presents, knowing that I would never get anything that nice until I could afford it myself.”

“So you buy yourself nice things now?”

Leighton laughs. “No. I spend pretty much all my extra money on stuff for the girls. Especially since it’s their senior year, it’s my last chance with this group to show them that there are people out there who are willing to do nice things for them.”

“What do the parents think?” 

“Most of them don’t care. But the ones that don’t have the money told me they like that there’s someone who can surprise their girls. They do what they can, but they can’t do everything, you know?”

Matt nods, giving her a soft smile. 

The next morning, her homeroom girls, again, loved their Christmas gifts, only to be interrupted, again, by Matt’s girls rushing in. Soph showed Leighton that Mr. Rempe had picked up every girl their Starbucks or Dunkin orders that morning, along with a Christmas ornament that had their name, the school name, and their graduation year on it, shockingly similar to the necklaces from her. Katherine hands her the same; her coffee from Dunkin and an ornament with Ms. Cunningham and the year she started teaching there on it.

Her students leave, and again, she storms down to Matt’s classroom, the Dunkin and ornament in hand.

“What is the matter with you?”

Matt turns to the student sitting at one of the tables, making up a test. “Jessie, I’ll be right back,” he says, grabbing Leighton’s wrist and dragging her into the prep room connected to his classroom, sending a shiver down her spine that she decided to ignore. “That’s an interesting way to say thank you to someone who got you a Christmas gift after telling them you didn’t have anyone who bought you nice things.”

“You keep one-upping my gifts to my girls,” she points out. “You’re doing the exact thing I watched when I was a kid with my friends getting better stuff.” 

Matt holds his hand up as if he were surrendering. “I like to get my students things I know they’ll like, just like you do.” 

“You are an insufferable walnut,” she lets out, not sure what else she could really say knowing there was a student within earshot of them. “Do not come into my classroom unless you’re told to, please. I am begging you.”

She leaves again before he could say anything, throwing the Dunkin in his trash can so he could see she didn’t take it with her. She sits down in her chair and lets out a long sigh, opening the cabinet to throw the ornament in with the cup from the beginning of the year. 

The rest of the year passed without much fanfare, Matt doing what he promised and leaving her alone. The last day of school and, therefore, graduation, was coming up quickly for the girls she had come to know so well over the last four years. She bought them custom wall art for their dorms next year that had their college colors on it. It was easily the most expensive and most difficult thing to get them, but it was the last thing she would get for them, it had to be special. 

“Are you ok?”

Leighton nearly jumped out of her seat at her desk, dropping the pen she had been using to write a letter to Katie, one of the last letters for her girls she would write. “You’re like the mold on my ceiling that keeps growing back.”

Matt looks up above her, a horrified look on his face. “You have mold?”

“Why are you here?”

“I was heading out and I saw you were crying.”

Leighton holds her hand up to her face, the tears on her cheeks long unnoticed. It was easy to get emotional writing about her girls; she watched them grow from scared freshmen into the women they were today, ready to set out into the world and hopefully change it for the better. “I’m gonna miss this group.” 

Matt nods, walking over to her desk, kneeling down in front of her and placing his hand on her knee. “They’re gonna miss you, too.”

Leighton laughs. “Do you remember your homeroom teacher from high school?”

“No, but I remember the ones who cared about me and my classmates.” The two of them sit there for a moment, Matt getting up off the ground. “Why did you never answer my questions?”

Leighton looks at him, clearly confused. “I have answered every question you asked me. All the annoying ones, too.”

Matt laughs, shaking his head. “No, the ones I asked you with the gifts.” She gets the gifts out of her desk, where they had been sitting all year. Matt takes the Stanley, opening the cup to reveal a note stuffed inside. He unravels what she thought was ribbon tied to the ornament that was another note. “I’ve been asking you to dinner all year,and you never said anything.”

“I ignored these gifts all year,” she says, bluntly. “I didn’t know you wanted to get dinner.”

“I would like more than just dinner, but I’ll settle for anything.”

[drewscarkeys]

Blinded by the lights

Rare Cameron Imagine

Summary: you’re at a party and a guy tries to take advantage of you, but Rafe (in his POV) was there to step in

Warnings: drink spiking, sexual harassment, fighting/violence

Song -

Music was blaring from all angles, overwhelming you and mixed with all the alcohol you’d drank already caused your head to pound. Everything was a blur at this point, you’d lost track of how many shots you’d taken or how much cheap beer you’d forced down. But judging on how the room was spinning, it was enough to surely make you feel it the next morning.

To the left of you a girl was dancing with a guy, grinding herself against him as if no one else was in the room. Fuck, where was Rafe. You were starting to regret your fight earlier.

He’d pissed you off, confusing you by refusing to define what you guys were. You’d been talking for months and you’d both done everything that could be done and yet… you still felt like he was just going to drop you the second he got bored. But at the same time, he treated you like you were practically his girlfriend. So you couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just ask you to be his girlfriend. Neither of you were very good communicators and what you didn’t know was he wanted to be with you more than anything, but his fear of commitment forever had a hold over him, always making him hesitate, scared of the pain that would come when you would finally realise you could do so much better than him. It was self destruction at its finest. Because while he was just trying to find a way to show you that you were the thing he cared most about in the world, you were convincing yourself you needed to distance yourself from a guy you assumed was just using you and didn’t want anything serious with you.

You decided you weren’t going to think about anything to do with him that night. You were going to get so wasted you’d forget about everything that had ever caused you stress. Unhealthy coping mechanisms for the win, right?

Dragging your eyes across the room, you realised you couldn’t recognise many people, and the people you could recognise were so fucked out of their minds they were no use having a conversation with. A group of them had their heads down over a table, lifting them back up, now with blown pupils, as they rubbed their noses. That wasn’t something you got into. Rafe, on the other hand… no you needed to stop thinking about him.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and dizzily spun around to be met with a guy you vaguely recognised, but couldn’t quite place his name. He may have been the only vaguely sober person in the whole place so you considered him worth talking to.

“Thirsty?” He questioned, holding up a plastic cup shaking it slightly and grinning.

“Oh…I really shouldn’t…” you slurred, barely able to form the words. You would never, ever do anything with this guy - no matter how much you wanted to forget Rafe. Though you didn’t want to admit it, you loved him too much and couldn’t bring yourself to even consider doing anything with anyone that wasn’t him.

“You’re at a party sweetheart, have a little fun,” he insisted, once again raising the drink towards me.

Something about him calling you sweetheart made your stomach twist as it wasn’t Rafe calling you that, but you couldn’t really process much at that point. One more drink you figured. Then yeah, you’d go home and deal with whatever regrets you had the next day.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled, grabbing the cup and quickly downing it, too out of it to notice the slight weird taste it left in your mouth.

“Let’s go dance!” He shouted over the noise, grabbing your hand with his slightly clammy one and dragging you along with him before you could tell him you didn’t feel like it right now. You tried removing yours from his grip feeling slightly uncomfortable but he was pretty firm in his hold, tugging you through the busy room.

The room was spinning even worse than before, lights blinding your eyes as you pushed past people. You were beginning to regret that last drink.

You danced for a while, desperately trying to ignore the guy that was starting to make you really uncomfortable, every step you took, moving slightly further away from him, trying to regain your personal space. The room was so warm, unbearably warm and you felt your head cloud more so than you’d ever felt before, even when you were the drunkest you’d ever been. Your heart was beating fucking fast. The annoying LED lights fixed around the room flashed aggressively and you forced yourself to take deep breaths to avoid throwing up. His hands suddenly grabbed at your hips, trying to push your body against his and you pushed him away harshly.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You tried to shout, but were shocked to hear how slurred the words were, barely making sense. You couldn’t even speak you were so gone.

You wanted to get the fuck out of this house now and away from this fucking weirdo.

But just as you had decided to leave, you felt your vision tinge with darkness, eyes rolling back as your consciousness faded in and out. Everything was so blurred and dizzy and you knew something was really, really wrong.

Oh fuck. What was in that drink. No no no. This can’t be happening, you thought.

Something was tugging your hand and, desperately hoping one of your friends had found you, you followed unable to do anything else with stumbling steps as your legs began to give out. What the fuck was going on. Where was Rafe. You felt so scared and you just needed him right now. You felt someone wrap their arm around your waist to harshly support your collapsing body and continued to move you in the direction of what you could barely make out as a staircase leading upstairs. Your head was rolling back when your neck could no longer support its weight and you stared at the spinning ceiling, trying to make your thoughts connect.

It felt like you were being carried now. Maybe? Nothing was certain at that point. You just wanted to go home.

You heard muffled shouts in the background but you couldn’t tell whether it was the music or if a fight had broken out. Just as the noise had begun, you felt a strange shock sensation run through your body and the wind knocked out of your lungs. Something like pain ran through your body but it was hard to make out through the numbness. The last thing you could remember was resting your face on the soft carpet as your consciousness finally shut down completely and noise buzzed in the background.

~~~

Rafe’s POV:

“Fuckkk,” he groaned, doing another line. Why the fuck did he have to be such a dick earlier? He knew he was wrong and what made it worse was that he wanted to have something more with you. It was such a stupid, unnecessary argument that you guys had earlier. But thanks to the both of you being so strong-headed and stubborn, the second you both arrived at the party after a very silent car ride, you’d split ways to go off with your friends and drink your problems away. Or in Rafe’s case, use a bit more than just alcohol.

Thankfully the coke had kicked in and his stress melted away as he rode the high that took over him. He was surrounded by a group of people also doing the same as him while the majority of everyone at the party was either dancing to the shitty music playing over the speakers or were drinking the shitty, warm beer that some idiot forgot to put in a cooler. There were so many fucking creeps in this place and for a second his mind drifted to you. He knew he should go check up on you.

Yeah, alright, he thought, beginning to lift himself up from the couch.

“Yo Rafe, where the fuck you going man?” Kelce exclaimed, and he attempted, but failed miserably, to subtly motion to the girls sat around him. Rafe had stupidly agreed to be Kelce’s wingman for the night, after losing a bet that he’d somehow agreed to.

He glared at Kelce but nonetheless sat back down, deciding to stay for 5 more minutes of this torture before he’d find you and inevitably give in and apologise. He could only last so long without hearing your voice or feeling your touch. This made him hate Kelce even more in that moment for coming in between him and you, preventing him from getting the rush of dopamine he felt whenever he was around you. He swore on everything it was better than any drug he could take. Something about you drove him insane, causing him to feel things so strong he wanted to run from them, feeling undeserving of the infinite amount of love you gave him.

He couldn’t even understand why Kelce had asked him to stay, considering he refused to say a word to any girl that wasn’t you, choosing to have his face stuck in a permanent scowl. By some miracle, Kelce had managed to convince one of the girls he was talking to, to go upstairs with him to one of the rooms and do fuck knows what. At least it was Kelce’s fucking house, that was the only relatively alright thing about the whole situation.

But with Kelce gone, Rafe could finally go find you.

He harshly pushed himself off the couch and ran his hand down his face, starting to slightly regret doing any coke. He knew how much you hated him doing it but he was being petty after your argument and even though he knew better, gave into the urge. He had actually been doing pretty well recently. Thanks to you.

You, you, you. That’s all that ran though his mind as he scanned his eyes around the room but to his disappointment he couldn’t find you anywhere.

“Topper!” He shouted over the blaring music as he saw him across the room. He quickly made his way over to him and grabbed his shoulder spinning him around.

“You seen my girl anywhere?” He asked, to which Topper gave him a pissed off look for interrupting his conversation with a girl he was clearly hoping to sleep with.

Fuck, I need to get better friends, Rafe thought.

“No man I haven’t seen her” he replied curtly before turning his attention back to the girl who seemed bored out of her mind.

Rafe was beginning to grow a bit paranoid that something had happened to you but he pushed the feelings down for now, trying not to stress himself out too much.

“Uh… Rafe?” A voice behind him hesitantly asked.

He turned around and looked down at a girl looking up at him, looking pretty concerned.

“What?” He asked, probably a bit too aggressively but he was so sick of this night and just wanted to find you so he could go home.

“We were just dancing,” she started slightly unsure of him, till she shook it off and spoke more confidently, a sense of urgency in her voice, “I just saw Y/N shouting at this guy to get away from her and she looked really fucking out of it, something seemed off and-”

“Where the fuck is she?” He demanded, his heart racing at the thought of this guy bothering you enough to shout at him.

“The last I saw was him taking her towards the stairs, I didn’t know what to do, I’m sor-”

Before she could even finish her sentence he’d spun around and literally wrenched Topper away from the girl by his arm. He was about to complain before he saw the pure panic on Rafe’s face and realised something was seriously wrong.

“Some motherfucker is taking her upstairs,” he said, barely getting all the words out coherently he was speaking so fast and had already turned around before Topper could reply. Not that he needed to say anything. He knew the only person in Rafe’s life that would elicit this kind of reaction from him was you.

Rafe was halfway across the room before Topper had a chance to react, literally shoving people to the side in order to work his way through everyone. Topper quickly followed his lead and they both stormed towards the staircase, Rafe taking the steps 2 - even 3 - at a time.

Pure, blinding rage took over him as he saw you in the arms of the most pathetic excuse for a man and he couldn’t hold himself back.

“You motherfucker,” he said in the most threatening, disgusted tone, causing the guy to shout in shock and spin around, so scared to the point where he accidentally dropped you, causing your body to hit the floor with a sickening thud that made Rafe’s stomach drop so much he felt like he was going to be sick.

Rafe couldn’t take it anymore. All he could see was red as he slammed the guy against the wall and sent his fist crashing against the guy’s face, causing his nose to make a disgusting crunching noise as it collapsed against the impact and sprayed crimson blood against the once unmarked white walls and he lay there whimpering and snivelling, clutching his face in pain as blood streamed from his flattened nose.

It took all of Rafe’s strength to pull himself off that piece of shit and take a few shaky steps back, his body pumping with intense adrenaline and anger.

“Topper. Deal with this.” He managed to get out before turning his undivided attention to you lying on the floor. No matter how much he wanted to quite literally beat that guy to death with his bare hands, he cared more about you in that moment. You would always come first to him.

“Oh my god.” He whispered, raising a shaky hand towards your face and brushing your hair out the way. So much guilt consumed him. He couldn’t help but blame himself for what happened. If he hadn’t argued with you maybe you wouldn’t be unconscious, lying on a carpet while just metres away Topper was beating the shit out of the guy that was about to do unspeakable things to you.

With the hand that wasn’t covered in blood, he checked your pulse to make sure the situation wasn’t even worse than it already was. For what felt like an eternity, Rafe waited till he had his fingers in the right position against your neck to finally feel a pulse. He almost felt like crying once he found it and gently lifted your motionless body into his arms, holding you as close as he could.

“Topper, I’m taking her to the hospital right now,” he stated, “once you’re done with him, call the police and explain what happened.”

“I’ll take care of it man, don’t worry. Let me know she’s ok, yeah?” He asked, knowing how much Rafe cared about you and that by being Rafe’s friend meant he cared about you too.

Rafe quickly carried your downstairs but went out the back door to avoid exposing you to anyone while you were in this state, not wanting what happened to get out until you could tell your side of things first.

He lifted your unconscious body up into the passenger seat of his car and carefully pulled your safety belt on, clicking it into place, before he rushed over to the drivers side and jumped in, starting the ignition and driving to the nearest hospital to get you checked and make sure you were ok.

~~~

Your POV:

The smell of bleach and disinfectant overwhelmed your senses and you could barely open your eyes due to the piercing white light that stunned you. You groaned, rolling over, and lifted your hand to your face to shield yourself from the light that was making your head throb painfully.

“Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice exclaim.

You forced yourself to fully open your eyes and you were met with your favourite sight: Rafe motherfucking Cameron. He was looking down at you from the left side of what appears to be a hospital bed that you are lying in, his blue eyes filled with concern.

“How are you feeling? You ok? Can I get you anything?” He rambled, both worried about you but also filled with happiness that you’d woken up.

You laughed softly at his many questions and instead of answering, you carefully pushed yourself up and wrapped your arms around him, just needing him to hold you.

Immediately, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you like you were glass, scared of doing anything that would hurt you. He didn’t stay for long though and quickly pulled away causing you to frown and open your mouth to complain. Before you could say a word he placed his finger on your lips.

“I’m just getting a nurse real quick baby, then we can get you home as soon as possible,” he reasoned with you, laughing when you frowned again before placing a soft kiss on your forehead and left the room.

Now that you had time to think, you wondered what you were doing in a hospital bed. And then you regretted wondering, as everything from the previous night hit you like a punch to the stomach, causing your breathing to hitch and falter.

Fuck.

Did he…? You could barely remember anything. Did Rafe find you? Was he in time before anything could happen? You had so many questions and you were beginning to feel claustrophobic in this white, sterile hospital room.

The sound of the door opening cut off your spiralling thoughts and the sight of Rafe instantly calmed you down a bit. He was followed by a nurse who smiled at you, her eyes filled with kindness and slight concern which made sense considering the circumstances you were in.

“Hi Y/N, I’m Amanda, I’m just here to check up on you and see how you’re doing, if that’s alright?” She asked you, holding a clipboard with your name written on the top.

You sat up and quickly cleared your throat, “yeah, that’s fine.”

“Perfect, we’ll get started then!”

She busied herself checking your blood pressure and blood sugar and did a few other tests that you didn’t know the purpose of. When she was finally finished, she called a doctor in who checked through the clipboard of my information and dismissed her to go look after other patients.

The doctor looked at me with slight apprehension as she sat down on the chair.

“Hi Y/N, I’m Doctor Marshall,” she introduced herself, “now before we let you go today, due to the circumstances of your situation we just have to ask you a few questions regarding why you’re in here.”

You looked at Rafe, not really wanting to confront everything that happened quite yet, still a bit freaked out. He reached out and slipped his hand into yours, rubbing calming circles into your palm.

“Um…ok,” you replied hesitantly.

“Now we don’t have to do anything immediate if you don’t want to, it’s completely up to you how you proceed with this, but I first have to check if you remember what happened last night?”

“Yeah…ok. Um. I don’t really remember much,” you started, not really wanting to relive what had happened so soon but knowing it was necessary, “but I remember taking a drink from a guy.”

You cringed at how stupid that sounded after being constantly warned not to take drinks from strangers, but instead of looking judgemental, the doctor looked back at you with nothing but intense concentration on what you were saying.

You continued, “and then I danced for a bit, but the guy wasn’t leaving me alone and he was making me uncomfortable. I remember shouting at him, I think, and then after that its just really blurred and kinda merges into one.” You finished, looking down at your lap as you messed with Rafe’s hand which you’d been holding the entire time.

“Again, don’t feel like you have to answer but is there anything else you can remember?” She questioned calmly.

“I remember being carried, I think. Oh yeah, I remember the guy that gave me the drink tried to push me against him at one point while I was dancing,” you shuddered at the memory, but continued, “and then when everything started getting really dizzy I remember being dragged by someone. And that’s when they started carrying me. I can’t remember if it was him or not though.”

Weirdly the more you spoke about it, the less overwhelming everything seemed. No one was blaming you or thinking you were stupid. They just wanted to help you and it made you feel safe.

“Alright, well, we’ve already spoken to your boyfriend,” she replied, not noticing the way your eyebrows raised at her calling Rafe your boyfriend, “and obviously when you’re ready and only if you want to, you can talk to the police about what happened and make sure that the guy that did this will have consequences for his actions. You are not the one at fault here.”

She stood up and was about to sign you off to go home before seemingly remembering something, “oh and one more thing, we haven’t contacted your parents seeing as you are over 18 years old and your boyfriend advised against it, so just letting you know they aren’t aware of what has happened,”

“I appreciate that,” you replied, not about to get into why you didn’t want your parents knowing and how your relationship with them was… shaky at best.

“Ok, now that’s all sorted, you’re free to go. Obviously if you feel worse, give us a call but other than that you should be all good” she smiled at you.

“Thank you so much for everything,” you said gratefully, relieved that you were ok and could finally go home.

Rafe helped you up from the bed and immediately held your hand tightly in his, not wanting to let go of you or let you out of his sight. Once you reached his car, he opened the door and was about to lift you onto the seat when you grabbed his hand, grinning slightly.

“I’m ok, I promise. I can get into a seat on my own without breaking.” You joked, so appreciative of him wanting to help you but also feeling slightly babied. You wanted to prove that you were still yourself and that things were normal even after what had happened.

“Ok” he whispered next to your ear, sending butterflies fluttering through your stomach.

You jumped in and he shut the door before moving over to the drivers side and sitting down himself.

By the time he’d driven to home to his house, it was already dark and you felt slightly time disoriented, not sure how long you’d been on the hospital for.

Not even giving you the chance to do it yourself, Rafe had already opened your door, holding out his hand to help you down from his truck, but to your surprise, instead of letting go, he carefully pulled you into his chest, resting his chin on your head.

Nothing needed to be said. You were both pretty shaken up after what had happened and you just needed each others company.

No one else seemed to be home right now - not that it would’ve mattered, you were basically considered part of the family at this point with how much time you spent with Rafe - and he lead you through the silent house up to his room.

He went very quiet all of a sudden, a weird look taking over his face and you looked up at him confused as to why he was acting weird.

“What’s wrong?” You asked softly, leading him over to the bed so you could sit down and talk.

“I just-,” he cut himself off and took a deep breath, looking at you with sad eyes as he began speaking again, “I’m so sorry you had to go through that Y/N. I should’ve been there. I should’ve stopped anything like that from happeni-”

“Nope.” You stated, causing him to stop mid sentence, looking at you confused, “we aren’t doing that. Just as much as it wasn’t my fault what happened, it isn’t yours either. I’m not going to let you sit there and blame yourself when you’re the one who stopped anything more from happening.”

He paused, unsure of what to say for a moment.

“I don’t deserve you.” He muttered, shaking his head as he grazed his nose against mine, “but for some reason my heart has chosen to fall so in love with you it hurts. And it scares me, fuck, it scares me Y/N. I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, holding his hand up to cup my face, rubbing my cheek with his thumb, “but I don’t care anymore. I love you. That’s the truth and I need to tell you that even if it terrifies me because you deserve so much love.”

You stared at him shocked at what he was saying. You couldn’t even form words. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, trying to convey all the intense emotions you were feeling in that moment through a single kiss.

“I love you,” you whispered back, causing him to inhale sharply and squeeze your waist.

“I love you,” he whispered back to me again.

“I love you,” you laughed, realising this wasn’t going to end any time soon.

“I’ll never get sick of hearing you say that,” he grinned, as he held you even tighter to him.

He’d never felt this way about anyone before. And he didn’t think he’d ever feel this way again. You were it for up him. And he loved you so much.

[dawnoftime22]

"...because it feels like it will."

| W.M ( -> N.R )

Undeserving of a Love Like Yours, Chapter 4

Chapter Warnings: Staying underwater in a bathtub for a couple seconds, relationship problems, avoidance, distancing, alcohol, getting drunk.

Summary: Everything in your world starts to fall apart.

Series Summary: When you're stuck in a complete hole of confusion and hurt with the one you thought you loved most, a certain redhead finds her way into your life.

Word Count: 5.1k

Category: Angst. Full on aaaaangst.

A/N: this was...a lot. and unlike anything I've written before, but hooooo! I love how it turned out. I was a little late, but I hope you enjoy it <3

| Started on 19/01/2024, 2:28 PM |

| Finished on 05/02/2024, 8:18 PM |

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

<- Chapter 3 Chapter 5 ->

"When did your heart stop beating as it once used to for me?"

|——————————— ᗢ ———————————|

Light broke through the window, dawn visiting the sky with the sun. The bed was empty of either of your bodies. Dust could be seen floating around in the sunlight that came in the room.

You were up and about, already having finished showering and wearing your clothes. Wanda on the other hand, had gotten out the house even before you awoke.

Your feet takes you to the kitchen, the dim lighting adding nothing but only sleepiness to your still low energy. Even though you got your rest and showered.

You open the pantry to grab two slices of bread, to then put in the toaster after making sure the timer was set right. The watch on your wrist tells that it was 7:43 AM. You still had time.

As you waited for your bread to toast, you went to make a drink in your mug. Your thoughts drift to the brunette as you do so, not being able to help it.

Wanda had slowly started to not be present. You could say it's work, you could say she's busy or tired, but it was starting to be unavoidable to think about.

With you starting up work again, it being a weekday once more, you weren't sure if you were glad or not. It'll either be a distraction to not thinking about her at all, or more time alone to yourself to only be thinking about her.

A sigh leaves your mouth and you gently shake your head, trying to rid the endless thoughts in your head. Your hands cup the freshly made drink held within the warm mug, letting it sit on the cold marble counters.

Soon enough, your bread pops up from the toaster, and it was nearly perfect aside from the slightly lesser toasted parts. You probably need a new toaster.

Not caring much about it though, you grab a plate and place it on there, making your sandwiches easily for a morning breakfast. The minutes were going by a little quicker with every second you spent eating, and honestly, time was starting to look like its going against you today.

After you rush to finish the last few bites and put the plate in the sink along with your now empty mug, you go to the front door, phone and keys already in your pockets.

The drive to your workplace was a blur, your eyes were focused on the roads and your mind was preoccupied with the thoughts of everything and nothing as you tried to distract yourself with music.

You arrived soon enough and walk through the building, passing by co-workers, and many other people you didn't take mind to put a name to or even know.

Your work was pretty boring, sitting down at a desk with a plastic chair-- Yes, plastic, as there weren't any that were comfortable around the building except for the one in the boss's office.

The only thing that wasn't boring with it was being able to fiddle around with some spotlights and having fun with the colors. Your fingers move around the control board as you set everything up.

As time went by, you finished it up and let the lights do whatever you set them to do. Now, you had a choice to either sit and do something else, or do paperwork.

Although that sounded awful, you went to work on them instead, not wanting to be sore from sitting in the same position for the next few hours on your chair watching whatever show you downloaded on your phone while working on the lights.

The time went by, and you finished up most of it all, until lunch came by and it was time to get a break. You get up from your chair and leave the pen you were holding in your hand to lay upon the papers, going off in search for some food.

You made sure your phone was still in your pocket as you made your way out, your car still waiting for you outside. But, seeing as the place was close, you could just walk there. The sun shone down on you, the heat obvious both from your body warming up, and the bright yellow sunlight across the concrete sidewalk and other buildings.

After you went in the nearby café, you started cooling down a bit, the ac within it easily helping you out. The place was starting to get packed, but you've always had a small little corner you're able to keep for yourself every lunch break.

You go up to the front counter, ordering a few things before you went to the empty table. Your order number was a bit far, but you didn't mind it as you stared out the window. Lucky the sun didn't filter in through the glass here, seeing as it was behind the building.

Your mind then drifted off, stuck on a certain thought ever since you saw the clock strike lunch time. You bit down on your bottom lip and your hand reached in your pocket to grab your phone.

As your fingers unlock it and go through the apps to then scroll in your contacts list, your mind reeled with every possible thing that could happen. You probably shouldn't. You know you shouldn't. But it's worth a try.

Your thumb hovers over her name for a short while, but you give in and tap on the contact, giving in. It switches to calling mode, and you put your phone to your ear, anticipation making your heart beat faster.

The dialing tone keeps sounding out, and you were starting to regret it, but hope lead on with every beep. You hoped it doesn't go to voicemail. And it doesn't.

"Hello?" Her voice comes through the phone clearly, and you let go of a breath you've been holding quietly, looking out the window, so your eyes don't just focus on the plain table. You gather your thoughts, turning them into words.

"Hey. Um, you have lunchtime free, right?" You ask, your eyes moving to the orders list. Your number was going up, but you had enough time to keep talking with her.

"I do...Why?" She asks, as if skeptical of something. Had she forgotten about lunch break? You didn't let the curious thought linger and instead fiddle with the paper in your hand of your order number.

"I was just...wondering, because I do, and well, do you wanna have lunch together?" You say casually, expecting a denial with the many times she has before.

"Sure. Sure, that sounds good." She says, and you raise your eyebrows in surprise. But your heart jumps at the agreement.

"Okay. I'll maybe..." You pause for a second, looking down at the time on your watch. It showed 1:15 PM. "...see you at 1:20 PM?"

"I can be there by 1:30 PM." Her voice elongates some words, probably also checking her own watch as she said it. You smile, happy with her answer nonetheless.

"Okay. See you here." You say quietly, trying your best to keep your cool, like anyone else in the café. Although, they're probably pretty calm at the moment and not getting excited about something.

"See you." She didn't say anything else, and all you heard after was an end call tone. You pull your phone away from your ear, and right when you do, you notice the order list moving to your number.

You stood up, and went to grab it, thanking the cashier. When you sat back, you took a sip of your drink, but nothing more, thinking of waiting for Wanda.

As you waited, and waited, checking the time, your meal was starting to get cold and you were getting hungry. You took a couple bites here and there, enjoying your lunch.

Soon enough it was now getting to 2:20 PM. Your lunch break was ending soon, and you finished up the last of it, but not with someone you were hoping to spend it with. You check your phone again, in case you had somehow missed something even with the past few minutes you looked.

hey, are you coming?

if you have to cancel that's okay, just say it

Sent at 2:00 PM.

Wanda?

Sent at 2:14 PM.

No reply. Your hope was running short, and the café was starting to empty out. You take another look at the empty seat in front of you, then to the window's view of the roads outside. There was no sign of the brunette you much so keep precious.

You sigh, and get up, holding your phone tightly in your hands before storing it back in your pocket. It wasn't much. She was starting to deny spending lunchtime with you, and today was the first in a while she accepted. But it's worse when you find some hope and it escapes from your hands.

You put on your headphones, playing some music as you walked back, knowing the rest of the day you had to just finish up work. Hours and hours passed by and you had to stretch so you wouldn't get sore. But you made it through the end. You always do. The sun was setting as you collected your stuff and exited the building, going to your car.

You soon enough get home, having driven on auto-pilot, which was quite dangerous, but you've made it back unscathed. Or, well, physically. Mentally? You weren't doing so well.

The lock of the front door clicks with the movement of your hands, that then glide off to let your legs be free of your shoes. The place was quiet. A usual greeting whenever you'd come home, but it's gotten quieter, an in between from that horrid silence and just the atmospheric quietness. A void that seemed to swallow you up whole within your mind, replacing the silence.

You sigh heavily, walking to the bedroom. Nothing else was in your mind to do but just to take a shower. Although with how draining a shower in of itself sounded to be, you had decided with another version; the bath.

Your bag and jacket was taken off and thrown gently on the bed as you went to search for some comfortable clothes in the closet. Shirt, another shirt, jacket...Wanda's jacket, hoodie, collared shirt, and then your hand lands on a comfy oversized shirt you'd wear at home.

Sweatpants was swiped off from another part of the closet and put on the bed, ready for you get into after you were done. You go into the bathroom, closing the door behind you and locking it, even though no one else was in the house. Habit, you supposed. Plus, safety.

You turn on the faucet at the bathtub, letting the water run hastily down. You made sure the drain hole was closed and the temperature was just right before turning it off, peeling off your clothes to then carefully climb in the tub.

The warm water eased your tense muscles, the gentle small ripples visiting your skin as you moved to get comfortable. The bathtub was cold as you placed your hands on the sides, a big range in the temperature difference with the water.

Sounds of water tapping from the sink or showerhead every now and then echoes, reverberating off the walls. It was nice. Something to keep you company here and there even if your mind was hazy with thoughts.

Your eyes focus on a part of the wall somewhere in the bathroom, spacing off. You try not to do it for too long, knowing you'll only dig yourself a digger hole with thinking. Slowly, you take a deep breath in and sink into the bathtub, holding your breath in the water while bubbles went to surface.

You can feel the pressure heavy on your head. The water devouring you as you stayed down. After a few seconds though, you pull yourself back up, letting air flow back into your lungs and wiping your hair off your face.

It made you feel more alive, oddly enough, for something that's dangerous. Rather concerning if you thought about it more, but you brush it off and started to do more things, such as cleaning yourself off with some soap, the familiar scent filling the bathroom and making your exhausted soul relax just for a while.

Soon enough, you get out and dry yourself up, making sure the bathtub was drained of any water too. The cold air that visits you when you step out the bathroom, although even with a towel wrapped around your body, still stings your skin.

Your legs take you over to the bed, your hands moving on their own as you wore your clothes, the fabric covering your body and warming you right up easily.

Once you got done, you were right about to drop onto the bed, but then you look around the empty room. You end up staring at the flowers you got her in the corner of the room, sitting atop her desk. You clench your jaw slightly, and walk over to it. But you didn't do anything, really. Only your hand went up to gently touch the soft petals. You take in a deep breath before letting it go, your hand going into a fist as you let out your breath.

You turn away from it and walk back to the bed, shaking your head at your own movements and thoughts. You sat on the bed, the sheets soft on your hand. You then slowly drop down to lay your back against the mattress, your eyes looking up at the blank ceiling while your legs dangles off the edge of the bed.

With the seconds that go by, just as you were about to finally move to the pillows and lay comfortably, your phone dings with a notification. Your heart skipped a beat, and you freeze, a dreading feeling overcoming you.

You think it over and hesitate, not wanting to feel any worse, but having a gnawing feeling to check. But then you prop yourself up with your hands and grab your phone, the screen lighting up with your lockscreen as you clicked the power button.

The time shows up and a few other notifications, but one thing stood out to you most. A message. By who? Well, of course the one that's been on your mind for all of today. Your heartrate speeds up and you read the message.

Hey, sorry, I forgot to tell you I couldn't make it.

I'll try to make it home before you sleep though. Love you.

Sent at 7:34 PM.

Your eyes falter with any spark of hope you had left, and you click the power button once more, turning your phone off and slightly dropping it on the bed, it making a soft thump against the soft mattress. Your phone was fine and safe with the drop, but your heart surely wasn't.

Your throat swells up, and you hold your tongue against your teeth, trying everything within you not to let it get to you, but you slide off the bed and go to sit on the floor, your back resting against the side of the bed now.

A sniffle comes from you and your eyes well up with tears. You didn't want to cry. But with everything-- your lungs do a sharp intake of breath, and you squeeze your eyes shut, pulling your legs up to your chest and hugging your legs with your arms.

Your tears soon leak from your eyes, down to your cheeks and sobs left your mouth. God, of course you were crying. It was just a small thing. Or well, that's what your mind wants you to think. She's never left you waiting just like that.

A few more couple of minutes went by, with you letting out your built up feelings until you calm down a little more. You wipe away the mixed tears that were both from your nose and your eyes, both the skin of your hand and your arm filled with it.

They dried off though as you pulled yourself up off the floor and got back on the bed, your teeth capturing your bottom lip. So many muscles working to keep yourself moving, even though they got a rest in the bathtub, they were kept going even after.

But now, you relax a bit, shuffling to lay your head on the pillow. It was cold, so you go to grab the covers first and pull it over you. You curl up under them, your nose red from the crying. But your body got to rest as your once heavy breaths went softer with every minute.

|——————————— ᗢ ———————————|

The next day you once more awoke to empty sheets. Again and again. You were starting to question what exactly was happening, because it all seemed to be something rather than just your mind playing tricks on you.

Nothing much happened in the day. You worked at home, doing stuff on your laptop. Once you were done, you laid around relaxing while all at the same time being anxious. While the sun went down, the skies got cloudy, and just as the moon started to glow brightly, rain starts pouring down.

It was getting cozy, with the dim lighting. You watched a show on the tv, but wasn't really waiting on much, just scared of what you'll have to soon face.

As an hour or two go by with you sitting on the couch, you start to get sleepy, your eyes heavy. But right as you shut off the tv and was about to get up, you hear keys clinking near the front door.

You kept your place on the couch, your eyes keeping watch of it, but when you hear a struggle with the keys going in and not unlocking, you stand up, going to go open it for her.

You turn the lock and open it, behind it revealing Wanda who had seemed like she just got up from crouching to grab her keys.

"Hi." She says with a small laugh, smiling sheepishly as she held her keys between her fingers, showing them to you. "Slippery hands."

You didn't react much, only your lips moved to form a straight line as you stepped aside to let her in. She goes in and kicks off her shoes while you closed the door behind her, locking it.

As Wanda went to take off her jacket too, you walk more to her front, your mind only focused on what had happened yesterday.

"You didn't show up yesterday," you say in a whisper, the words coming out of your mouth without much thought. She turns her head to look at you, her mouth open slightly as she took in a breath in surprise but as if moving to say something.

"I got caught up in doing stuff and I...forgot." She puts her keys in her pockets, turning fully to you. That was when she saw your face, how different you seemed than the soft look you'd usually look at her with.

"We had lunch break, Wands." The nickname slipped from your mouth easily, especially in the situation of the confrontation. Your voice was gentle, but stern, and full of emotion.

"I know, but so much is going on and..." she trails off as she looks away from you, and you had hoped she'll go on, but instead she purses her lips and her eyes travel back to you, a breath of a sigh leaving her mouth.

"Come on, it's going to be New Year's soon." Your eyes widen a bit at the mention, having forgotten it was going to be the start of a new year from the weeks you've been lost in. She puts her hands up as if to gesture before she reaches in a bag she had brought home, grabbing something.

"I got us wine." She pulls out the bottle of wine, a small smile playing on her lips as she raises her eyebrows. Surprise was on your face before you furrow your eyebrows, seeing where she was going with this.

"Right...but we should really talk." You say, your eyes following her movement as she walked off to the kitchen, grabbing some wine glasses and popping open the wine.

"Soon, Y/N," she said sternly herself, focused on pouring the drink down in the glasses as you made your way to where she stood near the kitchen island.

"Now, are we going to party or are you going to ruin it?" She finishes up, grabbing a glass full and holding it out for you, her face obvious with expecting you to go with the first choice.

Your eyes flicker from her and the glass, before lingering on the glass. A breath leaves your body through your nose gently and your hand impulsively reaches up to grab it. It was a moment of weakness and you took it.

She smiles and hums, grabbing her own glass and taking a sip. You too, although you took a bit more than she did. The liquid easily ran down your throat, although burning slightly.

"You know what I think we should do?" She sounded out, her eyes looking towards the watch, counting down the hours until New Year's came around. You follow her gaze, and there was around two hours left.

You hum in question, looking back at her. She smiled wider and goes to the drawers nearby, opening one. You gazed curiously at her, wondering what exactly she was up to.

"We should play some Uno." She holds up the box that held the cards, and your eyebrows rose, but finally your lips raise up too slightly.

She goes over to the living room, sitting down on the couch and setting up the cards. You follow behind her, sitting on the bean bag nearby the couch as you wait for your set of cards.

The two of you start the game, it starting off slow until it moved to a few Unos and fails. You had one too many reds now, and really you were starting to hate the color.

She calls out Uno, and you had two cards left. You hoped she didn't have a yellow, seeing as she's been going with your last few reds and blues, but not a yellow.

As it was her turn, she cheers and whoops, throwing her last card onto the pile of uno cards you two played. It was a wild card.

"I won!!" She says, putting her hands in the air, and you had your mouth open in shock, looking at her with an unbelievable expression.

"That's not fair! You're using a wild card." You put your hand out, gesturing towards it. Sure you've seen this strategy before, and even used it yourself, but it definitely frustrated you most times.

"It is fair!" She laughs, drinking more from her glass and finishing the last drop of wine in it, leaving it back on the coffee table next to the stack of cards.

"Nope!" You say, grabbing the pile of Uno cards and gathering them, putting them together properly once more for another match.

"Is!" She exclaims with a smile and a tilt of her head, watching you shuffle the cards when you got them all.

Soon after a couple more rounds, and a couple more wine refills, the two of you get drunker as time inched to New Year's, your happiness only there because the alcohol riled you up.

"How'd we end up on the floor, anyway?" She asks, laughing, and her words slurring as you had your feet in her lap, your back laid on the floor while hers was against the couch.

"Because we are extremely drunk. That's how." You say through a giggle, putting up your index finger as if to make a point.

You moved to sit up and shuffle to sit beside her instead of laying down, her gaze focused on the time. You smile, looking at her lovestruck, although drunk. You then whisper, "I love you."

But she only went with, "Andddd...Happy New Year's!!" She puts her hands up and turns to you, going in to kiss you on your lips. Your eyebrows raise in surprise, but you take it.

That was how that night turned out. You both went on, and danced, and did other things until you fell asleep. The morning was ruined with a horrid hangover, but you managed, somehow. Wanda just spent her day by going with sleeping longer.

And then, in the span of months, the relationship you built so carefully with love and passion, through four months, started to fall down. All along with your heart. Slowly. Oh, so slowly.

You started to only see her in the middle of the nights, whenever the bed dips and you wake up just slightly. Most times she wouldn't even bother to go close to you and pull you close. Just keeping her distance.

On some random day, you decide to break and pick up your phone, being unable to deal with any of it anymore.

You go through the grueling process of going to your contacts and searching her up once more, your fingers not hesitating to tap on the call button.

And as you wait, you hear the calling noise sound out. That sickening. Call tone. But after just a few more, she picks up.

"Hello?" She says, and you could hear a bit of her sokovian accent coming out. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. She only did that when she was angry or something, but you went on with your plan.

"Wanda, we need to talk." You say, although slightly calmly, you were certainly trying your best to keep yourself grounded than splutter out all the words and questions in your head.

"Yeah?" She says in a breath, and you can hear something in the background. You assume she dropped something, because it sounded like clutter.

"Why are you being so distant lately?" You slowly ask, and she went silent. It left you sitting in your thoughts as to what exactly she was doing on the other side of the call.

Probably thinking about her next words. Probably 'busy with work,' probably this, probably that. Then you hear her take in a breath.

"...I think we need to take a break." She says suddenly. You were expecting it. Not that sentence, and certainly not that straightforward. You were expecting her to say, 'We need to break up.' But your mouth would be open slightly either way.

This was happening on a phone call. Of all the times you could be together, and she decides to do it over the phone. Sure, you rang her up, but it was to go in the direction of communication, not to do something a little extreme.

"What? Wanda, what we need least of all is a break. Honestly, we need more time together than less." You say in disbelief and scoff, knowing you had spent less time than you ever had the start of last year.

"Communication. We need that. Please, we've been through this before." Your voice came out more gently, and a little shakily, your thoughts having gone to the past but not lingering.

"I tried spending time with you. It's just...I don't know, Y/N." She said in frustration, and your eyes roll slightly then move around the room, looking at every furniture here as you tried to make sense of the situation and find more words to say to her.

"What do you mean, you 'don't know'??" You question. She was either just as confused of her emotions or feelings just as you were or, she was holding something back.

"I love you, you know that. But I...don't think we can work right now." She said urgently at first before transitioning to a slower pace in her talking. Your eyes well up with tears, and it took everything in you not to straight up hang up the phone. You had to deal with this even through the tears while talking to her. You took a deep breath.

"Talk, Wanda." You say, and she goes quiet once more. This time, perhaps out of guilt. The silence was deafening, and you had nothing to focus on except for the hardwood flooring and the carpet.

"I...think I'm falling out of love with you." At that, your heart drops. Her voice was shaky too, and full of emotions. Way more than you've ever heard for the past few days.

"What...?" The word comes out in a breath from your mouth. It didn't feel real. This didn't feel real. Your heart didn't even feel like it was beating anymore. Was this one of your nightmares? Well, it's a real one, that's for sure, with the texture of the couch felt against the skin of your hands.

"I don't wanna fight with you and...you're making no sense." You look up and sniffle, trying your best not to let yourself cry while still on the call. Wanda was silent.

"But okay. If that's what you really want." You nod continuiously, your voice obvious in sounding like you're about to tear up. And you were.

"I'll see you later, Y/N." She said. You didn't even get the chance to hang up, the ending tone sounding out and echoing. The silence wasn't a welcome back at all. A welcome to hell? Maybe.

You sat with your shoulders slumping, processing what had just happened, and you finally break, crying once again.

The rest of the day was filled with dread and like your heart was getting beat and shattered to a million peaces. You had retreated to the comfort of your bed, laying in it and letting your tears stain the pillow you laid your head on.

You slept all alone.

But you'd do it over and over again for her. Just because you believed it'll pass with time. Just because...you didn't want to let go yet. Just a little longer.

You only saw her once in december. And it wasn't even really december anymore, it was new year's day. Plans that started every now and then, though rare, was getting cancelled.

She seemed like she was getting sick to her stomach every time she met you face to face once more. Either that or your mind was tricking you.

Your body subconsciously moved every now and then, searching for the warmth of another body next to you, but there wasn't one, and your body had found your own warmth by curling up instead.

end of chapter 4. </3

Series Masterlist <- Chapter 3 Chapter 5 ->

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[class-1b-bull]

How would 1b react to thier little sister demanding they join her tea party?And how would they react to their crush walking in on them participating egearly at the tea party/their sister bawling her eyes out because they said no?

Not proofread we die like men

Awase - he was so embarrassed when his crush walked in on him with a big pink tutu and a princess tiara. His pinky was up when he was drinking from his plastic but he instantly burried his face in his hands when his crush saw lmao

Sen - he said no at first but then he reluctantly gave in after she started crying. It didnt take long for him to actually get into it but he was so embarrassed when he saw his crush walk into the room lmao. He was about to complain to this girls manager about the teas terrible quality when he saw his crush in the door way.

Kamakiri - his little sister was holding onto his leg begging him to play tea princess tea party with her and he just kept saying no. When his crush walked by he was a bit embarrassed to had a crying toddler attached to his leg but he tried to play it off. His crush more then likely offered to play with her instead and if they did he silently thought it was sweet ngl

Kuroiro - his little sister was latched onto his leg crying because he wouldn't play with her. He thought it was embarrassing and didnt match his gothic subculture (idk if thats the right term but i frankly dont care) he got even more embarrassed when his crush walked by. Hos siter ran up to his crush and started complaining to them about how mean he was being lmao

Kendo - she was super happy to play with her little sister. So she wasn't embarrassed at all when her crush came by. She even invited them to join her sisters tea party. Her teapart with her sisters was definitely a lot calmer (i wouldent be surprised if kendo made rlly small cookies for them so they will fit on her little plastic plates.)

Kodai - she was a bit reluctant but eventually gave into her sister's begging. She was extremely embarrassed when her crush walked by and she was even more embarrassed when her little sister asked them to play too lmao

Komori - she was in character. She was gossiping so much about what princess twilight did (one of her sisters dolls named after someone from her fav tv show) while sipping the imaginary tea and her sister was loving it. She got a bit embarrassed when he crush walked by but she decided that cringe is temporary and she just embraced it lmao

Shiozaki - she was a bit reluctant to join her little sisters tea party but she eventually gave in. After a bit of pretending to eat sweets and drink tea her crush walked by and she got a bit embarrassed. She would have tried to hide her face but her hair would easily give her away.

Shishida - seeing a massive teen covered in fur sip pretend tea out of a pink plastic cup is the funniest thing to me lmaoo. He got a bit embarrassed when his crushed walked by but he calmed himself if his crush joined in lol. (Also now that i think about it his family is rich so it was probably a real glass teaset)

Shoda - he was embarrassed when his crush caught him and his sobbing little sister. He told his crush nothing happened but when his sister told his crush that he was refusing to play with her he finally agreed to the tea party. Only because he wanted his crush to know he was a good brother. It was cute lmao

Pony - she had so much fun playing with her little sister ngl. She even got a little dressed up for it because it was a fancy event lmao. She did get really embarrassed when her crush saw her though before she invited them to join her.

Tsubaraba - he wore that tutu and princess tiaras with honor. Pinkys were up drinking that pretend tea and he invited his crush to join them with no shame (okay he was a bit embarrassed and he was silently calling himself cringe but he embraced it for the moment)

Tetsutetsu - he puts 110% effort into everything even if its embarrassing. And he did the same when playing with his little sister. He would let out the loudest, most shocked sounding gasp when she told him what her dolls did last week. He obviously got extremely red when his crush walked by and saw him but he tried (and failed) to play it cool.

Tokage - i saw a video of this guy and his daughter being super sassy towards eachother while playing nail salon or smthn like that. Anyways thats what shes like. She will tell her sister to give her the most specific yet outrageous tea combination and she will talk to her manager if its wrong lmao. She was extremely embarrassed when her crush walked by though.

Manga - he adores kids so of course he said yes in a heart beat! He got into it too. Like he was speaking like some noble from a long ass time ago while inspecting the pretend teas quality and shit. He was honestly haveing a lot of fun making his little sister laugh so he didn't even notice his crush watching them play for a moment when they were passing by <3

Honenuki - he was a bit reluctant but it didnt take much begging to get him to play tea parties with his little sister. He was fine playing with her until his crush walked in and saw the two and he instantly got a bit embarrassed. Thankfully he managed to play it off pretty easily and he even asked for his crush to join lmao

Bondo - he said he would play with her later since he didn't want to risk one of his classmates seeing. But then his little sister started crying because she thought he didnt like her or something so he forced himself to play with her even if it was caused by a misunderstanding. And everything was fine when he was playing with her until his crush came by and he got extremely embarrassed extremely quickly.

Monoma - he was going off at his little sister. I mean why wouldn't he? The tea quality was terrible it took forever for him to get the extra sugar cubes he asked for at the very beginning and the waitress called him a butt face! He was about to talk to her manager when his crush walked by and was forced to join by his little sister. Now the manager in question was his crush and he couldn't be any more embarrassed.

Reiko - she only said yes to playing because she felt bad about an argument or something they had earlier. And she was pretty embarrassed the whole time. Her face was surprisingly pink the whole time which almost seemed out of character because of how calm and tough she seemed around her classmates. Her embarrassment only grew when her crush saw her

Rin - he only agreed to play with his sister after he did his daily home work and training and since it was so late he didnt think anyone would pass by so for his sisters sake he was being a drama queen (a very minor one but he was trying his best to make it interesting for his sister okay) but his entire face turned completely red the second he locked eyes with his crush lmao

Gif anime - dungeon meshi

[sanguineterrain]

Lampshade - s.h.

Based on this request. This ended up way longer than a blurb so I decided to post it on its own. I got a little teary writing this one---hit close to home for me. Hopefully I did your request justice anon

Summary: After an encounter with your high school bully, you're reminded that you don't have to be alone with your insecurities.

Word count: 2.2k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!plus-size!reader

Warnings: fatphobia, insecurities, self-doubt, bullying, arguing (happy ending!) Steve is the sweetest angel baby mkay?

MAIN MASTERLIST | Follow my notification blog @sanguine-stranger for fic updates!

****

You feel like a lampshade.

It's been a long time since you've dared to set foot at a party. The last one had been Eliza Meyer's eleventh birthday party at her house. A kid had eaten too much ice cream and threw up on the carpet.

Tonight's party isn't much different. Whoever's house it is, it's already trashed.

Maybe you should've fought harder to do literally anything else this weekend, except Steve's puppy eyes are brutal. And you can't deny the guilt you feel already, forcing him into trips to craft stores and the bookstore instead. Steve deserves a girl who can have fun. It's only been a year since Steve was King Steve. You know you're part of his fall from grace. You know that. You never fucking forget it, frankly.

But you feel like a lampshade. Dimmed light, hidden. As insignificant as wallpaper. As tiny as a fly.

You're used to taking up space; used to telling yourself that it's okay you take up space. That you deserve to exist just the same as anybody else.

But this is not your place to take up space. You don't belong here.

Steve is getting drinks. You'd opted to stay in the living room, not wanting to attempt navigating a kitchen full of drunk young people. Steve had kissed your cheek and promised a swift return.

"Hey!"

You turn. French manicured nails curl around a red plastic Solo cup. Andrea Burgess has the same big hair you remember from high school, hairsprayed and teased to the heavens. She will probably marry some schmuck and pop out three or four viper babies who have her fire hazard hair. Poor kids.

Andrea is all smiles, razors hidden beneath pearly whites. You remember how she'd dumped pudding over some poor band kid's uniform in junior year. How she'd terrorized girls in the locker room. How she'd terrorized you.

Maybe she doesn't remember you.

"Didn't think this was your scene, Y/N."

No such luck.

You nod tightly, praying she'll leave you be.

"Aw, c'mon. Nothing to say? I know your mouth is big enough for extra cafeteria pie. Surely you can spare a hello."

"Leave me alone, Andrea," you say.

Her eyes light up. She loves when her victims beg.

"Heard you're going out with Steve Harrington now. Like, I knew you were pathetic, but I didn't know you were a liar."

"It's not a lie. Steve's my boyfriend."

That only fuels the fire. You've seen the bitter jealousy before. Girls have no idea what the hell Steve is doing with someone like you. They're confused, then angry, hurling daggers with their eyes. You never mention it to Steve. You can't bear to see realization in his own eyes. He'll wake up from a fog. They're right. What am I doing with you?

Andrea laughs. "What, as like, charity work?"

Your eyes begin to burn. Where are you, Steve?

"Leave me alone, Andrea." Your voice is weaker now and sounds more like a plea.

"What're you gonna do? Chase me down?"

You are a lampshade. You are a feather floating in the wind. High school is past you. Andrea means nothing.

Oh, but her words hurt. You've always been sensitive, too soft. Steve thinks you're a dream. You feel like a raw nerve.

"You know, Steve used to make fun of you too."

Your blood runs cold. Andrea clocks your reaction and keeps going.

"You think he was above that? Look at who he dated. I mean, God, Nancy Wheeler's not winning any prizes, but she's tiny."

Nancy is beautiful. She's also incredibly smart and has become something of a friend. But that voice has always been there, sounding suspiciously like Andrea Burgess. A reminder that Nancy had Steve first for a reason.

"S-Steve would never do that."

Your voice wobbles. You're trying to be strong but you can't. You'd hoped all these years would've toughened you up but you can't do it. The Andreas of the world will break you every time.

"Called you every name in the book," Andrea informs you keenly. "Big girl and built like a linebacker. He was real creative. You're a joke to him, Y/N. He'll get you out of his system and move on."

Steve has never mentioned your weight or appearance. Kindly, he calls you beautiful, gorgeous, pretty, sweet, lovely. He akins you to a shrinking violet, a flower that just needs a little coaxing to bloom. He asks for you to let him take you shopping. You never seem to want to go shopping with him. Baby, how come we don't go to the mall? I have style, I swear!

You don't mention your weight to him in fear he'll notice. Steve will notice, and then he'll realize what a huge mistake he's made. So you keep quiet. Maybe he won't know. Maybe you'll get to keep him. Steve is a patch of golden sunshine in this hellhole.

You love him. The thought, however frightening, is there, real and true. You don't want to mess this up. You'll suck in your stomach and cover all the mirrors if that's what it takes.

"He's already ditched you," Andrea continues cruelly. "Probably glad to be rid of the dead weight."

You can't take anymore. You run.

Andrea doesn't follow you. There's too many people in the hallway and your vision is blurring fast. You go upstairs, blindly checking doors. Your hand hovers over a knob to a bedroom. The thought that Steve is inside with someone else briefly crosses your mind. You sprint down the hall, away from that thought.

You find the bathroom and lock the door. Then you sit on the toilet lid. And you cry.

You try to keep quiet. The bass from the speakers thumps below, but still. You can't risk anybody finding you. Least of all Steve. Steve would ask you about what happened. Steve would want to fix it, because Steve always wants to make things better.

You can't be fixed. He can't know.

Your nose is snotty, tears clumping in your lashes. You grab the edge of the window sill and cry harder. Your chest aches from lack of air but you can't stop.

You have to calm down if you want Steve to take you home. You'll need an excuse, though. Sick, you feel sick. You threw up. Steve won't question that. He'll touch your forehead and coo and you'll never have to talk about tonight.

You scrub your face with cold water. Your eyes are puffy from crying and you can't smooth your frown no matter how hard you try. You wipe your face with toilet paper.

You can't look in the mirror too long or you'll break and start crying again. So you spin on your heel and unlock the door, slipping out. The hallway is still empty. All of the noise is downstairs. Your secret is safe.

Steve will likely be searching for you. Hopefully, you haven't been gone too long. You can say you got lost, or caught up with an old friend. You're a terrible liar, especially to Steve.

Andrea's words creep back in. Maybe you're lying to yourself too.

You wipe your nose with a knuckle and swallow. You just need to keep it together for another hour. Then you're home free.

Steve looks like he belongs here. Two cups in hand, coolly perched on the edge of the armchair, Steve Harrington is certainly somebody's king.

Andrea touches his arm and giggles. Steve's barely looking at her. A wave of nausea turns your stomach.

He sees you and stands, shaking her off. But it's too late. You're out of Steve's system.

"Y/N? Baby, where are you g—"

You barrel through the crowd by the front door. You don't care about your jacket in Steve's car. You'll walk home if that's what it takes. Anything to get away.

It's more than chilly tonight. But the air feels good on your face, hot tears having returned. You scrub furiously at them.

You should've known. Why hadn't you seen it? You know better than to let your guard down around somebody like Steve Harrington. To think he could want you. Who are you? You're never making that mistake again.

"Y/N!"

Steve is running. Of course you had to go and fall in love with a guy who's athletically inclined.

You pick up your pace.

"Go 'way, Steve!" you hiccup.

Your voice is hoarse and raw from crying. You know Steve can hear it.

"Y/N, honey—"

"I'm walking home," you shout, voice cracking. You ache so bad. You want to stop and break right there on the sidewalk.

He catches your elbow. You wrench your arm away. When you turn, Steve looks like he's been slapped.

You keep wiping your eyes but the tears are coming too fast now.

"Y/N, what happened? Tell me what happened," he begs.

You cry harder and bend, holding your arms. Steve steps forward, hands fluttering over you.

"Baby, baby. Please, I need you to breathe, please. What hurts? Tell me what hurts."

"I'm your joke," you grit through tears. "You've got me out of your system."

"What?" Steve gasps. "What are you talking about?"

"Look at me!" You're too loud. You've never been this loud with Steve. "Look at the fucking big girl! Did you have fun?"

"Y/N." Steve looks like he's close to breaking. His eyes are glassy. "Please stop. Please. Don't call yourself that. Was it her in the chair? I pushed her away. I don't even know her name, I—"

"Her name is Andrea Burgess. And you're all the same. You lie," you grit. "I love you and you love girls like Nancy. You would’ve laughed at me back then and you—you—"

Your hands ball into fists. Steve gently takes your wrists. You want to fight, want to push. But you can't. You're not strong enough. So you collapse.

Steve holds you like you might float away if he doesn't. You cry into his shirt, clutching fistfuls of fabric. Steve folds over you, shielding you from it all. He rubs your back in slow circles.

"I'm sorry," you sob. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"Baby, stop. Y/N. Sweetheart. Stop, stop it."

Steve takes your face in his hands, thumbs wiping your cheeks. He kisses your forehead ever so gently. More tears spill.

"I'm not strong enough for her," you choke. "She got in my head. I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"Y/N, hey, hey, no. I should've been there. God, I'm so sorry. You don't have to face this alone. Whatever she said isn't true. You're not a–a joke."

Steve looks like the word makes him sick. Your arms curl around his neck. He cradles you like you're something precious.

"I don't want to lose you," you whisper. "I'm sorry I said those things. You've only been good. You deserve better."

"Baby, you're not gonna lose me," Steve replies brokenly. "Is that what you think? That I'll leave?"

"I wouldn't blame you," you sniff. "You could have anybody. I couldn't even go to one party without ruining it."

"You did not ruin anything. Okay? She said those terrible things. None of it is true. You are not a joke or something to get out of my system or any other horrible shit she said. I don't—I'm not like that. I would never hurt you."

"I know you wouldn't," you say shakily. "I know, I know. She said you teased me and I know you didn't, I know that."

"But there were people like me who did," Steve says quietly.

You sag. "You're not like them."

"I could've been. If I hadn't gotten some sense knocked into me..."

Steve shudders and tightens his grip.

"Is that why you didn't tell me?" he asks.

"I... no, I know you're a good guy, Steve. I just—I was scared. I am scared. You might wake up one morning and decide you can do better than me."

"Hey. Listen to me." Steve backs up slightly so you can see his face. "You are the most incredible person I have ever met. Nothing is going to change that. Okay? You're beautiful and I love you. I love you. Not despite anything. I love you for you."

Your eyes burn again. You bury your face in Steve's arm.

"I didn't mean that stuff."

"I know," he murmurs, cheek on your head. "It's okay. I can't—I don't know what that kind of hurt feels like. But I know I'd never want you to feel it. So will you do me a favor?"

"Hmm?"

"Promise me you'll tell me if you’re feeling like this?"

The wind cuts through with a whistle. You don't feel it with Steve around you. He rubs your arms.

"I promise," you nod.

"Thank you," he says and gently tilts your chin. "D'you want me to pull the car around?"

You shake your head. "That's okay. I wanna walk with you."

Steve takes your hand.

"Next time we'll go to the bookstore," he promises.

"I don't wanna force you to go," you sigh. "You like these parties."

He shrugs, kisses your temple.

"Nah. Party Steve was a long time ago. 'Long as I'm with you, I'm good. I've got you."

You smile and kiss him, bumping your nose with his. Eventually you pull away. Steve clears his throat, suddenly bashful.

"So back there... you, uh, love me?"

Your eyes widen, heart pounding. Don't back down. You're safe here.

"Yeah," you say softly. "I do. I meant to tell you in a far nicer way, I swear."

"You could... say it again?"

You grin. "I love you."

Steve is sunshine. No more hiding in the dark for you.

"I love you too, baby. So much."

And your insecurities won't disappear overnight, true. But you won't face them alone. Not anymore.

[barblaz-arts]

Hey, I tried to message you this, but my phone is dumb and sorry if I spammed you! But I love your work, and I don't want to take any credit, but here's my fanfiction on your work of how Vega and Elosie met.

"Hey, Vega! There's where you've been hiding!" I feel my right ear flick at the annoying voice. We're literally five feet apart he doesn't need to shout.

He giggles to himself and I feel his body drape over my shoulder and I harshly elbow him at the contact.

He whimpers briefly and then chuckles as he covers the brusing area with a hand. His drink in the other sloshes a little as he staggers back.

"Piss off, Duke. I already came to this annoying function, because I gave your mom my word that I'd watch out for you at school," I growl as I look over toward the pit.

The natural collection of jagged rocks in a circle created a perfect pit for, you guessed it, parties hosted by drunk dumb teens in the middle of the black forest. The area keeps the bonfire large but safe from spreading to the forest and its great to keep the crowd together, but apart enough so loners like me can observe safley at the tree Iine.

The various teens shout and laugh as the light causes some eyes to reflect in the dark. The myriad of smells clog up my nose. Doesn't anyone teach them there's a thing as too much perfume?

He pouts and the flames reflect in is dark glasses. Tomorrow his baggy grey sweatshirt will be gone and the purple and black Nevermore uniforms will decorate the halls of the newest supernatural generation.

"You know you didn't have to come. My mom wouldn't have known," he rubs his hand on his neck.

"An Addams never breaks a promise," I snarl as I watch the untouched contents of my cup swirl. That, and mother would totally kill me.

I know mom would be upset too and her disappointed puppy eyes are one of the few things that I would make me rather be trampled on by an angry mob.

Now. That's a party.

Duke shakes his head,"You're not having any fun, are you?" He runs a hand through his wavy hair causing it to be even more of a mess.

No. None at all. I'd rather be sniffing around school for hidden things that weren’t on the freshmen tour. Like the hidden society that mother claimed was so easily spotted it was a joke.

"The seniors throw this Homecoming party for new and returning students. It's a tradition to go. Even as irritating as it is." I reply.

"Vega," he sighs. He takes my cup and throws it over his shoulder.

"Your littering." I state as I walk around him and pick up the plastic. I hate it when people defile mother earth.

"Listen, leave. I'm safe here. Just because my mom is your godmother doesn't mean you need to stick around a place that's making you miserable."

I can feel my brow twitch, "I am not. Plus this isn't nearly as fun as you say it is."

He pushes down his glasses and his green eyes reflect the orange flames, "Don't make me use my siren voice."

I stiffen and growl, "Don't you dare. Yoko would kick your ass if you did that to me."

He smirks and puts them back on, "Maybe. But seriously, I'll be fine! Go run around in the woods and dig up a grave or something!"

"YO!" We all turn our heads as a large gorgon holds out a whimpering girl, "Looks like we got a normie crashing the party!"

A few whistles and snarls of irritation echo off of the rocks. The boy throws her down in front of the flames and Duke winces as the girl face plants in the dirt. The crowd approaches her with manic glee.

Someone turns off the music and the cracks of the fire are the only sound.

I know the smell of bloodlust. I usually salivate at the feel of it but this time? It's not worth it to someone whose innocent.

The gorgon jumps down to her feet and crouches. His hat rattles and his eyes grow to slits. "Why are you here, human?"

She whimpers, "S-someone was-s following me and I heard the music-c."

He laughs, "What and you expect me to believe that you'd cross into Nevermore territory willingly?"

"My phone died and I got lost!" She tries to defend. She crab crawls away. Her wide blue eyes scan the area for any allies, "I was at a party and-d,"

A few watch on with smirks, other with disinterested and some in awkward uncomfortableness. The town is still split but not as bad as it should've been.

He stands up and laughs, "You should’ve stayed with your kind."

"Vega." Duke hisses. But before he can grab my hand I leap the impressive distance down.

The gorgon pauses as I calmly stroll forward.

"Mind if I take her off of your hands?" I put my hands into my pockets, my nails have already grown into claws and I smirk putting my enlarged canines on display. I can't help but feel a little excited.

I've never got to fight a gorgon yet.

"And, who are you, Barbie?" I blow one of my neon pink strands out of my face. And I see Duke push his way into the front of the crowd.

My smirk turns into a malic grin and I take my hands out and crack my knuckles together, "Do you wanna find out?

"Don't." Another large male steps next to him and the way his eyes reflect, werewolf.

The gorgon looks to his companion confused. The wolf eyes me and I maintain eye contact.

I'm not sure who the new player is but I'll be more than happy to fight him as well.

The only werewolves I've interacted with were family. And no one wants to fight the Alpha's daughter.

"She's an Addams," the boy says. I cringe as the loud whisper overtakes the area.

"An Addams?"

"Oh, great. Another one."

"Like as in Wednesday Addams?"

"I thought her mom was human?"

The gorgon huffs,"Take the human. You'll do way worse than we ever could."

I make sure to keep eyes on them as I slowly approach the girl, "Are you okay?"

She nods and I wait as she gets up and she grimaces as she puts weight on her right leg.

Duke steps forward and lifts his cup, "Come on Nevermore! I thought this was a party!?" Soon the crowd joins in and I nod my head in appreciation. The music blasts back on. And soon everyone returns as dumb teens instead of scary monsters.

He shoots me a thumbs up and I look to the girl as she looks to the wall of rocks with a frown.

"Hey, can I pick you up?"

She looks over with wide eyes. "Huh?" Dirt covers her face and clothes. There's a few scrapes that are bleeding.

I clear my throat and point to her leg that's she's gingerly standing on. She blushes, "Oh. Yeah, sure."

I crouch and look over my shoulder and try to give a friendly smile, "Get on!"

She gives me a confused look before strattling my hips and I stand with her piggy backing.

"Alright I'm going to jump."

She tightens her grip, "What!?"

I bend me knees and she goes, "Wai--!!!"

I stumble as we land on top of the Boulder. I laugh trying to calm her down, "Wow! You sure are light, aren't yah?" I can feel and hear her heart pounding out of her skull.

She gives me a quizzed smile, "You're weird."

"Thanks!"

I look into the woods as try to see which way is town. Unfortunately, we're upwind and no lights or car noises are coming through the thick compass of trees.

"I came from that way. I think." She points in a direction and I decide to take it.

The walk through the woods is quiet and surprisingly, I find myself starting to relax. I like the solidarity that the woods provides. I walk for some time as my gently swaying makes the girl relax and she puts her chin on my shoulder.

"Is it true?" The girl whispers. I flick my ear as I look out of the corner of my eye she looks away from my pointed ear.

"That you're an Addams?" I feel my arms stiffen. I never cared for the purgatory that comes with my family. I'm quiet proud and don't care for others opinions. Still it's annoying.

She quickly covers, "Not that I care! It's just that I heard from my Uncle Lucas of your mom and how she made a statue explode."

I roll my eyes. That was Thing actually, but not that she needs to know.

"I'm Eloise. Eloise Johnson" She says. I carefully go over a log. She twitchesat my silence and goes, "You know this is when someone would tell me their name in return."

"Vega." I state. I pause as we come out to a field. There's wild flowers everywhere and I feel a smile grace my lips.

It's so pretty. I look as I count the flowers, black eyed Susan's, different asters, and numerous lillys.

I stop and close my eyes as the sweet nectar and fresh air enters my nostrils. The girl behind me seems to be enjoying it too.

I look up at the clear sky and stars. I smile when I see the stars that copy my name. Then, I remember that the town is south of school. So, I go in the opposite of Polaris.

"There was something there. You know?" Eloise whispers so quietly I even have to strain my superhearing.

"It was supposed to be fun. I made myself go out l, cause I promised my mom I'd get into trouble to stop her worrying. I'm also a loner at my normie school. I've never had many friends but everyone was going. So," she shrugged,"Then, the cops came and everyone panicked. I just ran. But when I stopped, I had no idea where I was, and then my phone died. I used the flashlight setting to try to find my way back. I wandered around in the woods for a long time and then this loud crack happened." Her hand tightens on my shirt, "I know you shouldn't run from a predator but I was just...something told me to just run."

"You're human. Not your fault." I try to comfort. She snorts with a watery chuckle.

I stumble out of a thick pair of bushes and end up on asphalt of a road. I turn and see the generic Welcome sign to the town.

I lower down and she takes the sign and slides off of my back.

"You think you can go the rest of the way?" I ask. I look to her leg and she brushes some of her red hair out of her face.

"I suppose I can. Thank you."

I nod and she says, "It was nice meeting you, Vega Addams!"

....

" Can Vega Addams report to the principals office?"

I pick my head up as my cheeks are stuffed of breakfast sausage. I glare at the box and ignore of the student body stares.

Ugh. I quickly inhale my food and then walk to the school's office.

The secretary politely opens the door for me and I pause as principal Barcaly turns around with Sheirf Walker standing next to her. His eyes red and bags underneath showing little sleep.

"Morning Miss Addams," Principal Barclay drawls, "You make take a seat."

"I'm in trouble." I sit and cross my legs waiting for the adults to tell me what I supposedly did.

Mr. Walkers rubs his five o'clock shadow, "Depending."

I raise a brow. Principal Barclay sit and folds her hands on her desk.

"Did you escort a Miss Eloise Johnson home the other night?"

I tilt my head to the side, "Yes, she was lost and I took her to the town sign."

"It that all?" Sheirf asks. I smell the coffee and desperation waving off of him. I try my best to not scrunch my nose.

"Why?" I can feel my heart pick up.

Principal Barclay and Sheirf glance at each other. After a moment.

"Eloise was found dead this morning."

The author shared this to me in my dms too but I figured you guys might wanna read it too :)