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therealdisneyfan2319 · 1 year

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The Spider and The Witch Chapter 1: The Experiment and The Flu

Summary: Peter Parker and Y/N L/N are junior biochem majors at Empire State College. Peter needs a volunteer for his research project, and a series of events leads Y/N to come down with the flu...or does he?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Language, blood, needles, description of medical procedures

Word Count: 3.6K

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“I don’t know how I managed to let you talk me into going to the lab with you this early.” You stretched your arms out as you yawned, keeping your arm just so to keep your coffee upright.

“Dude. It’s 10 am,” Peter chuckled.

“These good looks don’t just happen, man. I need a full nine hours.”

“Maybe if you went to bed before 3 am-” “Now wait a minute. You’re lecturing me about going to bed early when you used to pull all-nighters slinging webs around Queens?”

“Shut up!” He swatted your arm before you had the chance to pull away. “At least I was doing something productive with my life, not playing Pokemon-” “Completing the Pokedex is extremely productive. Now it might not be the same kind of productive as extracting the Spidey mutation from your genome sequence, but categorizing all the Pokemon from the Galar region is an important, time-consuming task.”

Peter rolled his eyes as he rolled down the sidewalk next to you. You chuckled, taking a sip of your coffee as you shook your head. This sort of banter was typical of your friendship. Peter was one of your closest friends and easy to joke with, but you also worked well together. It didn’t hurt that you were both biochem majors and had the same sort of scientific mind. Since you met in world civ last fall the two of you had been as thick as thieves. It didn’t matter that he was three years older than you, a grade above you, or that he used to be Spider-Man. Finding out that the guy in the Stark tech wheelchair who loved Led Zeppelin and Star Wars was once the friendly neighborhood superhero was not what you expected when you went over to his dorm to hang out for the first time. Peter was used to people freaking out when they found out and was thrilled when you shrugged it off.

“So what exactly are we doing today?” you asked. You had volunteered to help him out with a research project he was working on. He hadn’t told you much about it, only that it was being funded by Tony Stark and dealt with genome sequencing.

“Nothing too crazy. I need to take samples of your blood. I’ll use those as test subjects against my blood. That’ll be the control sample.” He punched in a sequence on the keypad on the arm of his chair. Tank tracks dropped down from the bottom of the seat as the chair began to climb the stairs to the science building.

“You know how to take blood?” you asked, holding the door open for him as he wheeled into the building.

“Yeah, well…yeah. I mean Sam taught me how to start an IV and drawing blood is the same principle, right? You gotta find the vein.”

“Oh my god I’m gonna die,” you mumbled as you turned down the hall toward the lab Peter worked out of. It was one of the newest labs on campus. Tony Stark had donated a sizable amount of money toward the Empire State College science and research division with the provision that all the money go toward funding better facilities for students. The new building had just opened at the beginning of the semester. Peter was more than excited to have a space stocked with the latest Stark technology to work on his newest endeavor. It was more convenient than trying to head upstate to the Avengers Compound a few times a week.

“I won’t let you bleed out on me, man. Worst comes to worst we’ll just throw some webs on it and send you to New York Pres.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better about all of this? Because it’s totally not.” You hated needles. You hated doctors. The thought of someone who was decidedly NOT a medical professional fishing around your elbow for a vein made your stomach flip flop. Maybe a large coffee wasn’t the best idea for breakfast…

The bright fluorescent lights in the lab snapped on as you opened the door. They seemed unnecessary as sunlight flooded the windows that took up the entirety of the easternmost wall. The overhead haze added to the sterile feel of the room: the latest in Stark Technology, ranging from microscopes and test tubes to autoclaves and fabricators, shone brightly against the lights. It was nerd heaven, stuffed to the brim with everything anyone could ever need for any experiment they could dream of. You threw your backpack on a lab table adjacent to where Peter was setting up his laptop. Once you were done helping him out, you figured you’d swing by the library to start cracking on the paper for your art history course.

“So I already took my own samples earlier this week,” he explained. “I’m storing them in the fridge over there. Mind grabbing them for me?” He motioned with his head to the mini fridge that sat next to the sink. You walked over to the fridge, seeing a rack of blood vials sitting on the bottom shelf amongst the Petri dishes of spores and sole can of Coke. “Don’t drop it,” he cautioned as grabbed a ziploc baggie of medical supplies out of his bag.

“Whoop.” You fake tripped, stumbling around and swinging the tray to and fro aimlessly. He shot you a somewhat serious glare. You returned a toothy grin.

“Dude if you drop that-”

“Relax, Pete. I’ve got steady hands.” You placed the tray on the table in front of him with the grace of a swan. “See?” You raised your hands up defensively. “Steady hands. I should be a goddamn surgeon.”

“Ah yes, Dr. Y/N L/N, the surgeon who hates blood.” He dumped the contents onto the table. Out fell some rubber gloves, a rubber tourniquet, needles, tubes, alcohol wipes, and cotton balls. You gulped at the sight of the paraphernalia. “So why don’t you just sit there and roll up your sleeve so we can do this.”

“Are you sure you can’t just, like, prick my finger?” Plopping onto the stool you rolled up the sleeve of flannel.

“Do you want to sit here and fill up these tubes one drop at a time?” Peter asked from the sink. The tray of tubes, empty ones and ones full of his blood, sat next to him as he washed his hands.

“Good point,” you muttered. It felt like you were chewing on the flannel from your shirt.

“Just relax, I did it on myself the other day and I turned out just fine.” There was a slight waver in your friend’s voice as he spoke. Try as he might to hide it, Peter was nervous, too. He snapped on the baby blue gloves. You turned your head away, refusing to look until he was done. “Can you just make a fist for-good okay, yup, I see the vein.” The sudden coolness of the alcohol against your skin made you shiver, but you refused to look. Even as you felt the slight prick of the needle against your skin you kept your eyes firmly shut. “Told you I wouldn’t let you bleed out,” he chuckled, replacing the now full vial with an empty one.

“How many vials do you need?” You strained your neck as you tried to look as far away as you could from the scene unfolding in front of you.

“I don’t know, I did six of my own. That should be enough,” Peter shrugged.

Six vials of blood? Why did you even decide to do this in the first place? You could’ve been back in your dorm in the comfort of your bed, sleeping the morning away, instead of having your blood forcibly removed from your body. Peter definitely owed you big time.

He removed the tube from your arm, handing you a cotton ball to stop the bleeding. “That should be it. Mind putting those back in the fridge for me?”

The second your feet hit the floor your knees wobbled. It was probably psychosomatic, but the sight of all your blood sitting inches outside where it should be made you the slightest bit queasy. “Yeah, no problem.” You shook your head quickly. There was no way you were going to let yourself puke or, even worse, drop the vials and have to do it all over again.

It took all your effort not to look down at the plastic tray in your hands. You concentrated all your effort on staring down the refrigerator. That ultimately meant neglecting your untied shoelace. Before you realized what was happening you found yourself tripping over your feet. While you managed to not lose your balance completely, the sudden jolt sent two of the vials crashing to the floor.

“Shit,” you mumbled as you set the tray on the floor. There were shards of glass and blood splattered across the marble tile. You quickly glanced over your shoulder, hoping Peter hadn’t seen your mistake. Much to your relief he was engrossed in his notebook. That bought you some time to quickly clean up the mess. You looked around for a roll of paper towels, spotting the roll next to the sink and tearing off a few sheets. The crimson puddles looked like they’d be easy enough to clean up. Not thinking too much about it, you knelt down and started blotting at the spill. A sudden stab caused you to recoil from the ground in pain. As you examined your hand, you noticed a small scratch on the pad of your thumb.

“You good?” Peter’s voice broke you away from staring at your hand.

“Yeah. Dropped one of the vials and cut myself. I’m good.”

“Was it one of mine or yours?”

“Uhh, mine.” Truth be told you had no idea if it was yours or his. There was no way to know which vial was which. Peter knew. He probably had it marked down in his laptop or something. But you remembered that his vials were facing you when you pulled them out of the fridge. That meant yours were away from you and there was an empty spot there. Yeah, it’s mine. ��You need me for anything else?”

“Nah, you’re good,” Peter focused intensely on his laptop, typing away as you finished cleaning up your mess and putting the samples away. “Are we still on for dinner tonight? Ned’s dying to try out that new Thai place on Watts Street.”

“Yeah, shoot me a text. I’m headed to the library for a bit.” You slung your backpack over your shoulder as you headed for the door. “See you.”

“Thanks again, Y/N.”

******

You spent the rest of the day in the library researching and typing and revising your paper. The minutes ticked by as you lost yourself in the endless barrage of Western paintings you thought looked all too similar. Yet as the day passed you found yourself feeling strange. At first you thought you had been studying too long. The words on your laptop screen seemed fuzzy and you found yourself re-reading the same paragraph on Donatello about a dozen times before anything seemed to click. Then the library seemed to drop ten degrees before abruptly shooting up another twenty. Sweat on the back of your neck ran down your shirt and chilled you as fast as it cooled you off. The lights were suddenly too bright and even the silence was too loud.

Shit, you thought to yourself as your felt heat radiating off your forehead. It was probably the flu. It had been making the rounds through campus for the better part of a month, so you weren’t completely surprised. Closing your laptop and shoving your books in your bag, you texted Peter as you left the library:

Got the flu. You and Ned go without me. I’m gonna go to bed.

The walk back to your apartment wasn’t long, but it was a near-impossible task in your ever-worsening condition. Every step felt like you were trudging through molasses. Your legs were as heavy as cement and you prayed you wouldn’t trip because you weren’t sure you’d be able to get up again. Tears clouded your vision. Rubbing your eyes didn’t help. The only thing on your mind was downing half a bottle of Nyquil and passing out as soon as you got back to your room.

Much to your relief you walked into an empty apartment. Peter and Ned must’ve already left for dinner. You kicked your shoes off and dropped your bag at the front door. There was no doubt in your mind that this was the flu: you felt like absolute garbage as you shuffled to your bedroom. As you flopped on the bed, clothes and all, your body felt like it was made of lead. Bone-crushing fatigue consumed you as you shivered on top of your bedspread. You prayed that you’d be able to get a little bit of sleep to help dull the pain.

When you woke the following morning, you were surprised to find that you didn’t feel sick at all. In fact, you felt better than you had in a long time. There wasn’t any evidence that you felt so poorly only a few hours ago. You swung your legs around to the side of the bed and stared at the floor as you thought about what you were going to do all day, but when you tried to stand up something was off. As you stretched your arms above your head, you felt something engulf you: it was your blanket. It was stuck to your hands.

Did I spill Nyquil on my hands? you wondered as you tugged at the fuzzy fabric. No, I didn’t take any Nyquil last night.

It took a considerable amount of effort to tear just one of your hands away only for it to stick on the wall as you balanced against it for support. Paint flaked away as you ripped your hand away. At that point you weren’t sure if you were still asleep or not. Squeezing your eyes shut, you reopened them to find flakes of drywall still attached to your fingers. What the hell? You shook your hands, trying to free yourself of the debris, but as you flicked your wrist downward, you heard a loud thwack. The sticky white residue covered Marty McFly’s face on the Back to the Future poster that hung next to your bed. That same white residue balled up on the inside of your wrist. When you tried to pull it off, a long spindly web came with it.

Oh fuck.

The implications of what just happened were huge to say the least. The vial you broke yesterday wasn’t yours: it was Peter’s. His blood contaminated yours when you cut yourself and now you had…spidey powers? It couldn’t be. This all had to be some sort of nightmare. You were just a normal guy trying to make it through college relatively unscathed. Sure, your roommate was an Avenger and that was a little weird, but other than that your experience was pretty normal. You had no interest in having superpowers or saving the world whatsoever.

“Everything okay in there, man?” Peter asked as he rapped on your door. It momentarily snapped you out of your panic.

“Uhh yeah, yeah. I’m good,” you hollered through the door, still looking at the web in your hand.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. Just, uhh, knocked my blankets off the bed.” You wiped the web up with a tissue, praying that it wouldn’t stick to your hand, too. It didn’t, much to your relief.

“How are you feeling?” he called as you started taking off your clothes from the day before. A long shower would help you figure out what your next move was.

“Good. Great actually. I feel fine,” you responded, throwing your dirty t-shirt on the ground. “How was dinner?” “It totally sucked, man. You didn’t miss much,” Ned’s voice was faint as he yelled from the kitchen.

“Bummer. I told you that you should’ve done Indian instead.”

“Well hey if you’re feeling better why don’t we go for lunch?” Your stomach grumbled at the thought, but images of getting stuck to the subway pole loomed in your mind. “Yeah, sure,” you responded absentmindedly while kicking your pants off and grabbing a clean pair of sweats off your bed.

Wearing nothing but your boxers, you opened the door fully intending to go straight to the bathroom. The second Peter and Ned saw you their jaws dropped.

“Dude!” Peter exclaimed.

“Wha-?”

“Woah! Y/N, when did you get ripped?” Ned asked. You were thoroughly confused. None of your hobbies included going to the gym or working out. What were they talking about? The lights came on in the bathroom and as your eyes adjusted to the brightness you were shocked. It was like someone took a chisel to your body overnight. There were muscles in places you didn't know there could be muscles. The reflection in the mirror showed you defined pecs, swollen biceps, and the faintest outline of a six pack.

“What the hell?” you mumbled in disbelief. Your fingers traced over your chest, taking in the new body you’d inadvertently fallen into. It was a surreal experience seeing an unfamiliar body in the mirror. It was almost like you were watching someone else live your life while you watched from outside yourself.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Y/N?” Peter asked as he wheeled himself in front of the bathroom door.

“Yeah. I’ve just got spidey powers now.” It didn’t even feel like you were the one saying those words. Haze clouded your periphery, forcing you to focus on the newness of your body. It was an out-of-body experience in every way. There was no way to really process the profundity of the situation.

“You WHAT?”

Time stopped. Everything stopped. Peter’s face contorted with dozens of emotions in the blink of an eye. Glass shattered on the kitchen floor as Ned’s glass slipped out of his hand.

“Umm, yeah I guess. I’m starting to think that was your blood that I cleaned up yesterday.” You half expected Peter to be furious at the truth, but the beaming grin on his face told you otherwise.

“It worked! Holy shit it WORKED!” He spun his chair around excitedly, whooping all the while. “Mr. Stark, oh man, he’s gonna be so excited! He’ll want to meet you. Man, now he doesn’t even need to look for someone to be the next Spider-Man because…oh this is great, I can teach you everything! That way you’ll be WAY ahead of where he thinks you should be and he’ll let you onto the team fas-”

“The next Spider-Man?”

“I mean yeah, Mr. Stark will definitely want to talk to you about it,” Peter replied.

“Dude, I’d kill to be Spider-Man!” Ned added, sweeping up what remained of his glass.

“No way, absolutely not,” you groused as you stormed out of the bathroom. “No offense, Pete, but I don’t want to be an Avenger.”

“You don’t have to make a decision now. I don’t even know if he’ll ask. I mean he probably will but that doesn’t mean anything. He might just want you to come in to do, like, more testing or something.” Peter gingerly walked back his excitement. The prospect of training the next Spider-Man brought a sense of optimism back into his life that had long been forgotten. Losing his identity as the local neighborhood web slinger stripped away a core part of his identity: Peter Parker and Spider-Man were one in the same. Sure, he still used his powers and webs when he could, but it wasn’t the same. Tony had offered to make him an exosuit after the accident, but he knew that he couldn’t do it anymore. One close brush with death was more than enough for him.

“Look,” you sighed, “I’m not you. I don’t want to go out and swing through Manhattan and stop burglars or fight weird lizard things. I just want to be a normal guy doing normal guy things with my normal guy friends if I can even call the two of you normal.” Peter chuckled half-heartedly.

“Wait, can you stick to the ceiling?” Ned suddenly asked. You sighed again, shaking your head as you extended your arm up and jumped: you stuck. “Woah! That’s sweet!”

“Yeah, it is kinda cool I guess,” you chuckled as you watched your fingertips completely suspend your dead weight from the ceiling. Getting used to your new body was a curious sensation. Everything felt sharper. Colors were brighter and bolder. You saw incredibly small movements even from the corners of your eye. Your body felt stronger and faster and more agile. It was strange, spending your entire life as a regular human being and then waking up one day twenty years later with these weird spidery feelings tingling inside you.

“Do you want one of my web shooters?” Peter asked as you dropped down.

“Web shooters?”

“Yeah,” Peter replied questioningly as he raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can actually make webs, do you?”

You responded by mimicking the hand gesture Peter frequently showed you, flicking your wrist downward as a raveled strand of webs flew out of your wrist. Peter ducked his head out of the way in the knick of time while Ned’s jaw dropped in amazement.

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

226 notes · View notes

f1letters · 1 year

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maroon | cs55

"how the hell did we lose sight of us again? sobbing with your head in your hands, ain't that the way shit always ends?"

summary: they both knew their relationship would ruin them both, but they couldn't stop themselves from running back to each other every goddamn time

warning: angst, toxic relationship, mentions of a vicious cycle of breaking up and making up, right person wrong time, suggestive language, swearing, a bunch of references to older classic rock bands and albums (and CAS because they are my fav band of all time haha), open ending

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

word count: 4.3k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past.

spanish words used: hermosa = beautiful; corazón = heart

hey everybody! honestly, this song is the one I've been looking forward to writing the most since the beginning... I worked so hard and I gave everything I had in me to this story (hence the story being the longest so far, something about writing for Carlos just makes me write so much more every time, haha), I couldn't be more proud of what I did! haha, hopefully, you guys love it as much as I do! happy holidays to everyone! 💜

masterlist

When the morning came

We were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf

'Cause we lost track of time again

Laughing with my feet in your lap

Like you were my closest friend

Dozens of voices echoed through the crowded room, engaged in different conversations and dialogues.

The crowd seemed to have a life of its own. Old friends catching up on the latest news in their lives. New friends being made unexpectedly. The sharing of the latest gossip and rumours among the most curious souls. The sound of endless, genuine laughter through the halls.

In the middle of the glowing lights, the shiny clothes and the loud music, hidden in the shadows, there she was.

Y/N had escaped the huddled bodies until she found refuge in an empty room. With the door closed, the noise of the party was now muffled, leaving the girl alone with her thoughts as she searched through a vinyl shelf she found there.

Led Zeppelin. Pink Floyd. Radiohead. The Clash. Their owner had taste, she thought, fascinated by their timeless records. The young woman also appreciated these older classic albums, although she couldn't find many people like her.

With her hands roaming over the vinyl without much care for the party happening, Y/N nearly dropped a Nirvana album on the floor when the bedroom door burst open.

"Oh." The unknown man said, stopping in his track when he came face to face with her. "Sorry, but do I know you?"

"Hmm, I don't think so." The girl frowned in doubt. Her eyes widened as she realized she was clearly breaking into someone's room. "Oh my god, is this your room? It is, isn't it? What was I thinking going in like that-"

"Hey, don't worry! It's okay! I just wasn't expecting to see anyone in here." He chuckled softly, extending his hand to the girl. "I'm Carlos, and you are...?"

"Y/N, nice to meet you!" She shook his hand back. The girl could have sworn she felt a spark run through her veins as soon as she felt his touch.

"Hmm, sorry for going through your stuff. I- I'm a huge music lover and I- Just couldn't help myself." The girl continued, half choking up, half laughing at herself, lifting the album in her hand to show Carlos what she was doing.

"I don't mind." The driver responded, approaching her and taking the vinyl from her hold. The warm skin of his hand contrasted with her cool one, letting his touch linger. "So, are you a Nevermind fan?"

"More of a Bleach girl myself." Y/N said smugly, her eyes glazing over the boy's charming figure before returning to the shelf. "You have an incredible collection. I wish I had this many records."

"How'd we end up on the floor, anyway?" you say

"Your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that's how"

I see you every day now

Hours passed, and both lost track of time as they talked about everything and anything.

Y/N and Carlos were instantly attracted to each other, bonded not just by their shared love of music but by a soul connection neither could explain.

It was profound in ways that were beyond physical attraction, it had to be experienced to be truly understood.

Almost like their souls knew each other from the past.

The couple stood there, only a few hours after they met, sitting on the floor of his bedroom. They laughed with her feet in his lap, with a cheap-ass screw-top bottle of rosé beside them.

It was like an enchanting enigma how much they felt like each other's closest friends, like they had been part of each other's lives forever.

A Fleetwood Mac song was playing from Carlos's red vinyl record player when the woman spoke. "Isn't it crazy that I ended up at your house party and didn't even know who you were until you walked into this room?"

The two chuckled softly as their eyes locked and the driver's hand ran along the top of her thigh. "A bit maybe." He bit his bottom lip, a little unsure and nervous. Deciding to take risks that night, he continued. "But it was totally worth sneaking in here and skipping the party just to meet you."

Y/N could feel her cheeks heat up as they flushed. The girl tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and looked away from him to the floor.

"I don't know about you," Carlos again captured the attention of the girl beside him, approaching her little by little. "But I don't think I've ever felt this chemistry with anyone in my entire life, hermosa."

Driven by her impulsiveness and by the tension that hung in the air, the young woman made the first move and closed the space between them, letting her lips rest on his in a much-desired kiss.

It started out soft and slow, their hearts beating faster and faster as the adrenaline grew. Y/N let her mouth open a little, and the driver took that as a sign to let his tongue swirl in her mouth. Her hands found their place among the brown locks of his wild hair, as he pulled her body towards him until she was on top of him.

Y/N was never one for one-night stands or sex on the first date, but that moment felt different for her. None of it felt sudden, ill-considered, or a mistake.

In fact, Y/N had never felt like anything was so right as pulling the Spaniard onto his bed mattress that night.

And I chose you

The one I was dancing with

In New York, no shoes

Looked up at the sky and it was

For the next six months, Y/N and Carlos were inseparable.

Their feelings for each other continued to grow stronger and stronger with every passing day. However, the two kept them secret from each other, hidden in the privacy of their own minds.

During those magical months since the night they'd met, they'd given themselves to each other, body and soul. But they both knew there was something more between them: something impossible to ignore, something special.

So special that the two feared they would ruin it by putting a title on their relationship.

They were… Friends with benefits, lovers, soulmates? All options were honest and sincere, but they were only attempts to escape the term "boyfriend and girlfriend".

Painting New York City white, snowflakes fell from the skies while shimmering under the lights like jewels bestowed by winter.

The couple could already see their destination, such was the way the girl's maroon apartment building stood out among the snow-covered sidewalks.

Carlos hugged her waist from behind, squeezing the girl's body and picking her up off the ground.

"Carlos, stop! You're going to drop me, you idiot!" Y/N squealed playfully, being immediately put down again in front of her door.

The driver placed a tender kiss on her forehead and then adjusted the black beanie that covered the top of her head. "I would never let you fall, corazón."

Except I already fell for you, she thought to herself, making her heart ache.

The two hurriedly climbed the building's stairs, eager to return to the warmth of her home. They had barely passed the front door when the two started taking off their cold and damp shoes in search of some relief from the discomfort in their feet.

The Cigarettes After Sex album that they were listening to before leaving her living room continued to echo through the walls of the apartment. Immediately, Carlos grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him, wrapping her shoulders with his arms as he started to sway their connected bodies gently to the music.

"What are you doing?" Y/N asked, caught off guard by the driver's movements.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Carlos asked playfully, running his hand through the young woman's long hair. "I'm dancing with you to your favourite band."

Just when she thought it wasn't possible for her feelings to grow any further, Carlos seemed to challenge her, proving her wrong all over again. Her heart could explode at any second with how much love for the Spaniard she kept in it.

"Carlos?" She asked in a whisper.

"Yes, hermosa?" He replied in the same tone.

"I'm so glad I chose you."

In the end, what mattered to them was seizing the moment before it was over, being happy with each other before the inevitable end came.

Both Y/N and Carlos couldn't help sensing that they were doomed to end sooner or later.

The burgundy on my t-shirt

When you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks

So scarlet, it was

Eventually, the first signs of the end of their honeymoon phase began to appear.

Their flaws seemed more noticeable, their patience thinner, and their problems more difficult to solve.

All of a sudden, the illusion that their relationship was perfect started to fade with time.

The two began to see themselves as opponents with their backs turned to each other instead of the hopelessly in love souls they were in the beginning.

On a random spring night, the two were getting ready for another one of their dates, in the privacy of his house, like they did so many times before.

The two naturally assumed their tasks without much dialogue at this point: Y/N was leaning over the stove as she finished cooking dinner for them, while Carlos was in the dining room setting the table.

After completing what he had to do, the driver went to the kitchen in search of a wine to serve with the pasta that his lover was preparing. He opened the pantry and took out his favourite red wine from one of the bottom shelves.

Carlos walked to one of the drawers, removing his corkscrew from it, and opened the bottle without knowing that Y/N was moving dangerously close to him.

By accident, his sudden movement caused the bottle to splash onto the once-white t-shirt the young woman wore, now leaving a huge burgundy mark on it.

"Are you fucking serious?" Y/N complained, disgusted with the state of her outfit. "This t-shirt is new, Carlos. For fuck's sake, this stain is never coming off."

"Calm down, it's not like someone died. It's just a fucking t-shirt, Y/N." Carlos replied, in the same aggressive tone. "I'll buy you a new one. Don't let this night be ruined for something so small."

"You'll buy it?! You always think that your money solves everything, don't you?" The girl spat, starting her way to her room to change her clothes. "I just wish you would be careful for once in your life and not be so fucking clumsy."

"It's a piece of fabric, oh my God." Carlos followed her, not ready to give up. "Get over it!"

"You know what? Enjoy your dinner alone. I'm out of here."

And so their new routine began: they argued, they fucked, they made up, they repeated.

The rooms they'd once set on fire with their burning, sizzling passion were now left in ashes, burned by the flame that brought them back to each other's arms, time after time.

The mark they saw on my collarbone

The rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home

So scarlet, it was maroon

Fight after fight, the two kept finding their way to each other every single time, like two individuals relapsing on their favourite addiction.

The young woman had been dragged by the Spaniard to another one of his races, though as a very discreet and unknown guest.

Nobody knew her in that world, not even his closest colleagues, and Y/N couldn't help but feel hurt by all of Carlos' secrecy.

Okay, they weren't together-together, but the fact that she wasn't even mentioned to his best friends still seemed like a red flag to her.

Y/N had managed to escape to his room without anyone noticing, coming face to face with the shirtless figure with his back to her.

"Hey, handsome." The girl approached him, placing her hands on his chest as she leaned against his naked back.

"Corazón, you are here." The driver turned towards her, placing a kiss on her lips and down along the side of her neck. "I missed you so much. These weeks without you have driven me crazy."

"Hmm... Were you missing me or having me?" Y/N questioned, trying to pretend to be unaffected by the way his mouth sucked on her collarbone so sensually.

The boy turned his eyes to her gaze and cupped her face gently in his hands. "You, hermosa. You."

Their moment was interrupted by a member of Ferrari knocking on the door, warning Carlos that he would have to prepare for the driver's parade. Both of them slipped from his room and the motorhome, coming across two other drivers she recognized from watching other races.

"Well, well, well," Lando announced, messing with Carlos and his mystery companion. "What do we have here? Sainz, you don't even introduce your 'friend' here to your boys"

"Pfff, friend." The Spaniard's teammate, Charles, replied, also joking. "At least her fresh hickey tells me otherwise."

The girl immediately looked down at the neckline of her shirt, where she noticed the love bite near her neck.

And when her gaze rested on her lover's annoyed face, she realized how unhappy he was that they got caught.

When the silence came

We were shaking, blind and hazy

How the hell did we lose sight of us again?

Sobbing with your head in your hands

Ain't that the way shit always ends?

"Since this muppet here doesn't want to introduce us, I'll do the honours. I'm Lando, this is Charles." The McLaren driver said, pointing to his Ferrari friend, followed by his outstretched hand towards the girl.

"Nice to meet you both, I'm Y/N." She greeted the British, and then the Monegasque.

"So why are you hiding your beautiful girlfriend from us, Sainz?" Charles asked curiously.

"She's not my girlfriend, I have to go." Carlos replied, turning away and leaving behind two shocked friends, a hurt girl and her heart broken into little pieces.

After hearing a thousand apologies from the two nice guys for meddling in matters that weren't theirs, Y/N decided to walk to the exit of the circuit and skip the race altogether.

Hours passed and only silence came to her hotel room, with no sign of Carlos.

The girl sat on the floor, back against the bed covered with a maroon duvet, shaking, blind and hazy, until he eventually appeared.

How the hell did we lose sight of us again, she thought to herself over and over again.

The driver entered the room, shoulders slumped in regret, expecting to find an upset Y/N he had to apologize to.

Never did he expect to find the girl he loved sobbing with her head in her hands.

Carlos knelt down in front of the young woman, placing his hands on her knees, which provoked her to look at him with eyes smudged with mascara.

"Sorry, hermosa." The boy apologized, letting his forehead rest against her knee.

"Sorry for what, Carlos?" Y/N asked, determined to get the truth out of him.

"I shouldn't have turned away and left you alone with Lando and Charles." The Spaniard confessed. "I understand that you didn't see the race, but it's done now, you don't need to be like that..."

"The discussion is over, yes." The girl spoke, getting up from the floor and looking at the image of him still kneeling. "But us, this, whatever it is, that is over too."

"Stop, Y/N!" The driver also got to his feet, trying to stop her from leaving. "This is just another argument. We always come back to each other, that's the way shit always ends."

The woman released her wrist from his hold, opened the door and glanced at him over her shoulder before walking away.

"Not this time."

You were standing hollow-eyed in the hallway

Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us

I feel you, no matter what

The rubies that I gave up

A day passed. Then two days. Three days.

On the fourth day, the doorbell to her New York apartment rang and her heart just knew that he was going to be the person behind the door.

Y/N opened the entrance to her house and there he was as expected: Carlos, standing there, hollow-eyed in the hallway, flowers in hand.

"Before you interrupt me, I beg you: please, listen to what I have to say. Then you can send me away if you want and I'll go." Carlos begged her, his hands gripping the red flowers more tightly. "I love you. I'm sorry I came to that conclusion so late but I do, I love you. So much my chest hurts whenever I'm not with you. And I know I've been an asshole to you, especially on this last race, and I know I don't deserve you but I'm not ready to give up on you, on us."

The young woman remained silent, listening to the words she'd been waiting to hear all these months.

But they were too late.

"These roses are for you, corazón. I know they are your favourite flowers." The driver held the flowers out to her.

"Carnations," Y/N replied, leaving the Spaniard more confused than ever. "These are carnations, not roses."

The two kept their eyes together until a tear ran down the girl's eyes. And both of them knew.

"I'm sorry, Carlos, but you should leave." Y/N sobbed. "I loved you all this time but I had enough."

And I lost you

The one I was dancing with

In New York, no shoes

Looked up at the sky and it was

Maroon

It took six months for them to end their perfect, magical honeymoon phase.

Followed by another six months of endless fighting and pain inflicted on each other.

Perhaps in some poetic way, six months passed from Y/N losing him until they saw each other again.

Nothing hurt more than being away from the one person she loved more than anyone. Especially when she knew the passion and the love between them were still there.

She couldn't help feeling that they were two cursed souls destined to suffer for their love.

Without Carlos, even music seemed to sound different.

Since the day she saw the boy walk out the door, her vinyl had remained exactly in the same place, gathering dust, as she didn't have the courage to listen to them again without being consumed by memories of them.

Trapped in her thoughts on yet another sleepless night, Y/N looked up at the sky and thought to herself: I can't die from a broken heart, but I can't help but feel like a part of me did that day.

The burgundy on my t-shirt

When you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks

So scarlet, it was

Maroon

Tired of brooding over the excruciating time away from the driver, Y/N relented and agreed to leave the comfort of her home to go to a party for the first time in a long time.

Dressed to the nines, the girl found herself in a crowd in the middle of an unfamiliar house.

It was the same as always: old friends, new friends, gossip, rumours, laughter, shining lights, loud music.

The young woman simply couldn't enjoy that life as she did before. All she wanted was to go home, lay under the covers, with the fire burning on her fireplace... But the memories that place held of him began to feel like they were too much for her to bear.

Alcohol in her hand, as usual, Y/N escaped the noise to a random room in the house, much like the night she met Carlos.

This time, the girl found herself in the middle of a guest room, with nothing more than a bed and some basic furniture, where she sat enjoying a sweet drink.

Mirroring that night even further, Y/N was stunned when the white bedroom door opened to let in the tanned, handsome boy who was consuming her head.

"Oh," Carlos said, unable to contain his feelings when he saw the woman again after so long. "Hey, I- I was just looking for the bathroom. I- I'm going to go."

"No, wait!" Unconsciously, Y/N stood up, grabbing the driver's wrist without giving it much thought until she felt the blood rush into her cheeks. "Sorry, I don't know what I'm doing. I just- I don't know... I miss you."

The Spaniard let her words sink in, all emotions on the surface. "Y/N... Please, don't do this. I don't know if I can survive another heartbreak."

"You're right, I'm sorry. Forget this ever happened." Y/N got ready to walk out the door until it was the boy's turn to grab her arm.

Carlos pulled her towards him, grabbing her face with both hands and pulling her into a so-desired kiss filled with longing, pain, and lust.

The mark they saw on my collarbone

The rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home

So scarlet, it was maroon

His lips brushed hers, allowing him to inhale her breath and feel the warmth of her mouth, until he let his lips mash against hers in a rough, heated kiss.

She opened her mouth quickly, pushing her tongue past his teeth and meeting him in an electric and passionate battle.

Both lay on the bed, her straddling his body like she did a million other times, her lips still glued to the ones she used to call home.

They both pull away, panting with their gazes focused on each other almost as if they were afraid the moment would suddenly be over.

"I still love you, hermosa." Carlos confessed, letting the words slip out. "There wasn't a day that I didn't think of you, or that I didn't want your body next to mine just like this."

For one more night, Y/N gave in to her most intimate desires and allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of belonging in the arms of the man she loved again, as she removed her dress and her lips returned to where they belonged - his.

And I wake with your memory over me

That's a real fucking legacy, legacy

And I wake with your memory over me

That's a real fucking legacy to leave

Such was the girl's amazement when hours later she woke up in the same bed, alone with only his memory over her.

The wrinkled sheets on the right side of the mattress were the only sign that the driver had been in that room the night before.

Not a note, a discarded piece of clothing, a stray hair.

Just crumpled linens and the marks of his love smeared across her soft skin.

Once again, Y/N was left with only her regrets and her sorrows for being so weak and so naive to think this time would be different.

That was the legacy he left every time: his touch on her remained, as did his absence.

The burgundy on my t-shirt

When you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks

So scarlet, it was maroon

Back at home, the girl went straight to her room, wanting nothing more than to get out of her dirty clothes from the night before.

Her hands started their work of removing the dress, until she stopped in her tracks, naked in front of her bathroom mirror, when she saw the marks left by Carlos all over her for the first time.

She swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, as she stepped into the shower.

The hot water ran through her hair, over her shoulders, and down her back, until loneliness overcame her and her eyes wept and wept away all the hurt she felt.

How could I have been stupid enough to fall again, she wondered.

After a few minutes of crying and showering, Y/N left the bathroom, towel wrapped around her body, and went to her dresser in search of an old t-shirt to wear.

Among the dozens of her neutral shirts, one stood out. It was scarlet, and it was his.

Without thinking twice, she grabbed the t-shirt and draped it over her body, ready to give in to the sadness. Her arms hugged her own torso, seeking physical comfort in a place where she was the only person left.

Or so she thought until she heard the familiar doorbell ring later that night.

The mark they saw on my collarbone

The rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home

So scarlet, it was maroon

The only light on the dark street that night was the street light that lit up the star-crossed lovers ever so slightly.

There he was, standing outside of the door of her maroon building, red roses in hand this time, face pleading for forgiveness.

Although their lives might not have fit together, they were just two broken souls who had found solace in each other's hearts, unwilling to give up on the greatest love they had ever known.

And just like that, pulled back into their vicious cycle, all she had consuming her mind was him all over again.

"Hey, corazón."

It was maroon

taglist: @dan3avocado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

@idkiwantchocolatee @simpforsunwoo @kissatelier @xweirdxsceletton @micksmidnights @miniminescapist @inchidentwithmax @hopelesslyromantics-world @alwaysclassyeagle @indieclarke @capela-miranda @okokoksblog @pulpfixion @sins-only33 @sainzclerc @allisonxf1 @honethatty12

@amsofftrack @scuderiamh @junkiespromise @loudoperahumanoidpanda @honeyric3 @holy-macncheese-balls @ricciardosheart @pierreverstapkin @ravenqueen27 @majkaftorek @home-of-disaster @buendiabebeta @itgirlofnowhere @roses-of-eden @thewintersunset @rubychocolatechips

(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 8 months

Note

i've been thinking abt this for the last 10 seconds and i need to share this LMFAOO but how but either jack or kappa with "i would never let anyone or anything hurt you. i've never felt that way about anyone." AAAAAAAA imma pass out oki lob u lots and i love the way you write i like hang on to every word ITS SO GOOD EVERYTIME

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 1000 FOLLOWERS! Let's celebrate that with this little something something here 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 I'm very much left speechless by the sheere amount of people that apparently enjoy my deranged writings enough to follow this flaming dumpster fire of a Tumblr blog. I love and appreciate all of you so incedibly much! 🖤 Thank you from the very bottom of my heart!

Going To California

Summary: Kappa displaying insane amounts of husband material.

Pairing: hippie!Kappa x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Content Warnings: Romantic Van Life Smut 18+!, Unprotected P In V, L-Bombs, Very Fluffy And Domestic, Kappa Being A Heartthrob, Kappa Talking You Through It, Sprinkles Of Actual Plot, Dad!Kappa 👀

A/N: To the wonderful nonnie, I have to confess that I thought much longer than 10 seconds about this 🤭🥴

I put together a hippie!Kappa playlist!

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @r0ttenmess @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai

Spent my days with a woman unkind

Smoked my stuff and drank all my wine

Made up my mind to make a new start

Going to California with an aching in my heart

Someone told me there's a girl out there

With love in her eyes and flowers in her hair

- Going To California By Led Zeppelin

With his plush, soft lips Kappa left a trail of slightly sloppy kisses all the way from your forehead down to the tip of your nose that he eventually nudged playfully with the tip of his own.

"And here I thought you'd let me sleep.." You giggled, your tone a little drowsy as your senses had already been on the best way to slip towards warm and comforting dreams for tonight.

" 'M sorry, sugar, didn't wanna wake you up again." He nuzzled his face into the curve of your neck, his left cheek soft against your jawline.

"Are you though?" You pushed somewhat teasingly, arching your brows in the dark of the van while a smile tugged your lips.

"Well, yeah…but also not really." Kappa admitted, his curly, black hair ghosting over your collarbone whilst his hands searched for your waist further down underneath the woolen blanket that the two of you shared.

In gingerly soft touches, his fingertips caressed over the bare skin of your hips, tracing your curves slowly to savor every inch of you next to him.

"Go on.." You inquired, feeling how he sent little waves of gentle goosebumps all over your body.

"I'm just..y'know…I've never been just that happy and I can't help myself here, really. I hardly get enough of you, babe." His slightly raspy voice hummed into the crook of your neck which had you leaning your head back just a little yet enough for him to take note of the invitation.

"Hardly enough, yeah?", It rolled over your tongue in a tender laugh as you recognised his lips softly nipping right underneath your earlobe, "I'm with you all day everyday. How are you not tired of that yet, honey?"

"How could I ever, hm?", To underline his point, Kappa suckled your sensitive skin right between his teeth, effectively leaving a hickey just like a love-sick teenager, "None of this would just be remotely as heavenly as it is right now without you. Living in a van this, being free to go wherever that…but I wouldn't wanna go anywhere without you anymore. I love you."

"Good god, you're so sweet, Kappa.", You felt your entire chest swelling with a very distinct kind of fulfilling warmth as you led your fingertips to sneak under the hem of his linen shirt and caress his soft skin all the way up to his shoulders, "I love you, too. So incedibly much."

Turning your face to the side just a notch, you pressed a long kiss to the crown of his head, holding him close in your embrace, your senses following closely how his body heat quickly engulfed your statue, seeping through the layers of fabric.

'Hmhmm…right there, sugar." Kappa quietly groaned into your neck, pressing his front further against yours.

You very well knew how much of a slave he was to being touched around his shoulders and you eagerly followed his plea for more of your tender strokes. Planting another kiss to his hair, you started drawing random shapes and forms, curly waves and loops all over his shoulder blades and along his spine, pulling little moans and whines oozing with enjoyment from his mouth.

"S-so good to me, love." He hummed in a low voice, his own hands fastening their hold on your hips.

"Always." You returned softly while it didn't go unnoticed how both of your bodies reacted to one another.

You could feel Kappa's growing hard on pressing through his pants against your thighs just as much as you acknowledged your perked up nipples brushing against his collarbones whilst your own arousal throbbed between your legs.

"So much for just falling asleep, huh?" You joked amicably, pressing both of your palms against his back before pulling him on top of you as you turned to lay on your back.

"Oh, that's all you now!" Kappa reciprocated with a hearty laugh right before lowering his lips onto yours, nipping and nibbling at them teasingly.

"Is that so?" It left your mouth in a chuckle, your hands busy with pulling his trousers off of him.

"I might just be a tad bit involved in this.." He groaned, feeling his cock prodding against your cunt without anything left in between.

"A tad bit, yeah?" You inhaled sharply at the sensation, noticing how your body turned gradually more greedy.

"Probably severely very interested, s'that what you wanna hear, sugar?" Kappa sighed against your mouth before thrusting into you in one languid, careful stroke.

"Fuck…", It rushed over your tongue as you felt his girth stretching you out, "Feels so good, damn."

"Still mad about being awake?" Your lover huffed against your jawline as he rolled his hips into your lap, having your eyes flutter shut at the sensation.

"Hmhmmm…" You moaned out whilst allowing your head loll back into one of the plenty tie-dye patterned cushions.

"Fuck, I love you so much.", Kappa groaned, raising his forehead to rest right against yours as he thrusted into you anew, "I'd never let anything or anyone hurt you, sugar. You know that, right?"

Kappa's words reverberated, echoed right through you, making you feel as one with him.

"I've never felt that way about anyone before." His voice filled your mind as the tip of his cock nudged against that especially sensitive spot on your inside.

"My one and only…", You moaned softly against his warm, slightly sweaty cheek, your lips brushing over his upper lip and pressing soft pecks to the corner of his mouth, "Wouldn't trade the world for you. Ugh, god, hear that? You turned me all soft, damn hippie."

Both of you chuckled for a moment, the vibrations of his chest against yours making your heart feel like it was about to explode right into his aura that smelled like lavender and freshly cut grass to you. The warmth of his character, the carelessness in the most inappropriate of moments and just simply being with Kappa had done things to you…good things for once in your life.

"You were soft way before me, love, the world just didn't appreciate you showing it, but be certain that I do." You couldn't quite decipher if it was the way Kappa spoke to you or the way he cradled the curves of your waist in his grip, making you feels safe and protected with him right on top you, between your legs, that eventually pushed your body over the threshold of a rapidly building orgasm and quite frankly you didn't care.

Soft moans, repeated chants of his name cascaded from your lips as you arched your back to shove your hips into his lap, needing to feel him inside of you as deep as you possibly could, your pulsing and contacting cunt clenching down around his cock.

"There, there…let it all just go, 'm here, sugar." He cooed into your flushed cheek in a low groan, his own body turning rigid as he felt your walls pulling him in deeper.

The tide of your orgasm, the push and pull of your release was enough for Kappa to come undone himself, spilling his load as deep as possible, shoving it and pushing it deep inside of you.

"I gotchu…" Kappa hummed, enjoying the bliss of his own release rippling through his muscles, allowing himself to get lost in that instant of being ultimately close to you.

Only very reluctantly he pulled out of you eventually, the load of his seed trickling out and pooling all over the inside of your thigh.

"Uh, I gotta tell you something, actually…" You started awkwardly, immediately drawing Kappa's attention towards you.

"Huh? Are you trying to give a panic attack right after cumming now?" His hand fumbled around the headboard above the mattress, fingertips eagerly trying to find the light switch for the fairy lights dangling from all over the ceiling.

"No, sorry, oh god, sorry. It's just… come here.", Right after he flipped the switch, illuminating the inside of your van in a warm, almost orangy tint, you reached for his hand and gently pressed it against your lower abdomen, "I have a strong feeling that we are at least 3 now."

"What?" It blurted out of him, brows knit together in confusion as he stared at you with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"I'm way past my period, Kappa.", You hinted further, "Sore breasts and, good god, the nausea lately?"

"What I'm hearing you say right now is that you are… pregnant?" His forehead crinkled in soft creases.

"Ah, there we go. That took you a hot second, no?" You chuckled out softly, planting a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

" 'M gonna be a dad?!", Confusion was swept aside by unbridled joy and excitement, "And you're gonna be a momma?!"

"Looks like it an awful lot now, babe." You couldn't hold back the wide grin spreading on your face before Kappa practically jumped you, attacking you with a wave of kisses, pecks and smooches all over.

#tam rambles #asks are appreciated #asks are always open #kappa #kappa black mirror #kappa x reader #kappa x you #rory culkin #kappa smut #kappa x fem!reader #black mirror #black mirror 6 #black mirror: beyond the sea

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

Text

That Girl is a Problem

Part 1: “Sinful Colors”

(AU street racing! Joel x f! tattoo artist reader)

A/N: so this idea came to me because I rediscovered the song, ‘Problem’ by Natalia Kills. Suddenly I was like YES. Tatted up street racing Joel 😵‍💫 + tattoo artist female reader? Jesus Christ, my panties have been flung across the room. I’m blushing as I type this all out because this Joel is just on another level 🥵 get your engines revving laideaze.

~word count: 2.6k~

Summary: Joel Miller & Tommy Miller left their Texas homestead seeking new thrills. They find themselves working at an auto body shop on Hollywood Blvd. Joel meets you, a self taught tattoo artist working on the strip. You might be just the adrenaline rush that he was searching for. Or, his ultimate heartbreak.

Warnings: Early 1990’s Los Angeles violence/scandals. Drug use, drinking, smoking, mentions of tattooing and needles, street racing, infidelity, adrenaline junkies, Joel & reader have emotional baggage, reader is a badass, love triangle between reader, Joel, and readers boyfriend, flirting, teasing, banter, jealousy, rage, trauma, dark themes, domestic emotional/physical abuse from readers boyfriend, pining, unrequited feelings, excessive drinking/drug use, sustained injuries from street racing, bar fights, 2 character deaths, jealous! Joel, darkish! Joel, possessive! Joel, eventual smut, consent, eventual established relationship, no use of (y/n) readers nickname is Angel, (+18) minors dni!

That Girl is a Problem Playlist:

𝙄’𝙢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡.

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙚...

𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙢.

Los Angeles, California: Summer of 1993

When Joel Miller, and his brother Tommy Miller moved to the City of Angels, Los Angeles California, they had no idea what they were in store for. LA was a cultural shock compared to their homestead in Texas. They were looking to get in on the action, live life on the high side and they had come just to the right place.

It didn’t take long for the Miller boys to find work at a local mechanic shop on the Hollywood strip. Both brothers knew a thing or two about cars and motorcycles. Wasn’t the first time they had gotten down and dirty, and it wouldn’t be the last. Joel had discovered your tattoo shop on his lunch break. Hollywood had street vendors by the lot and he stopped in front of the bright red neon sign that read, Sinful Colors.

Joel wasn’t shy of his ink. He had gotten his first tattoo at the sharp age of 18 and from there, he became addicted to the buzzing sound of the machine, and quick jabs of the needle into his skin. It was a euphoric sensation. The only way he knew how to describe the feeling without sounding entirely masochistic, was that it was a good pain. A comforting pain that eased stress and tension. Maybe he enjoyed it too much. Who the hell was anyone to tell him that he was fucked up for feeling that way? Tattoos were fucking dope, as far as he was concerned.

Curiosity got the best out of him as he pushed open the door to your shop. He was greeted with the familiar buzz of the tattoo machine and the low tremble of Led Zeppelin’s, I Can’t Quit You Baby. There was the faint aroma of cigarette smoke, mixed in with burning incense wafting through the thick beaded curtain that separated the waiting area from the room where the clients and walk in’s would receive their new ink.

You had a cigarette perched between your lips as you were finishing up on a walk in that requested a tramp stamp to piss off her ex boyfriend. Although in your eyes, tramp stamps weren’t trampy at all. They were fucking hot as hell, considering you had one yourself. “You’re doing great, babe. You’re gonna love this one. As soon as your ex sees it, he’s gonna be foaming at the mouth.”

“As he fucking should be. Fuck him. He’s never gonna get his hands on my body again.” The client glanced over her shoulder at you, letting out a low hum from the sensation of the needle piercing her skin over, and over again. Once you were finished, you lightly doused a paper towel in rubbing alcohol before gently wiping the tattoo.

“Alright babe. You let me know how this looks, Kay? If you wanna change anything, don’t hesitate.” You had your walk-in gently sit up before you handed her a hand held mirror so she could check out her new ink. The tattoo was a gothic heart in red ink. The structured lines coming from the sides of the heart were like a crown of pointy thorns. The tattoo itself was delicate but possessed that edgy vibe that she was looking for.

“Holy fucking shit, Angel. You outdid yourself again! Oh my god, this is so fucking beautiful.”

It brought you undeniable joy to see someone happy with your art. You took immense pride in making sure that your clients and walk-ins got exactly what they were looking for. It was always fun when you got to throw in your own artistic flare in your work. “I’m so happy you love it babe. You know I would be more than happy to add you as one of my clients? You keep coming back for more..so I must be doing something right huh?” You said with a small grin.

“At this point, I’m just gonna keep throwing my money at you because girl, this is insane! Thank you so so so much!” She was already reaching into her hot pink wallet, pulling out a stack of cash for you.

“You mind if I take a picture of it real quick? I’ll give you a copy as well. Just like to keep a collection, y’know?” Your walk-in, Maddi nodded. You tapped your cigarette out in the nearby ashtray, far enough away from your supplies to stay within regulation code. You opened up your drawer pulling out your Polaroid camera as you got behind the bench. “Alright baby cakes, hold your shirt up for me just a little, just like that gorgeous.”

You snapped one picture, followed by another, gently shaking the photos as they developed. Once they were finished, you grabbed a fine tip sharpie and wrote the date, along with Maddi’s name, and handed her the second copy.

“Okay, this is so fucking hot. I’m hanging this picture up on my fridge. I don't care.”

You set your copy of the picture down before grabbing her a “goody bag.” Now remember, no harsh scented soaps, no swimming for at least 2-4 weeks. Please don’t let anyone cum on your back for at least a week either. I know how you are babe. Keep it moisturized, and a little bit of the stuff I gave you goes a long way.” You wheeled your stool over as you placed a light patch off the open wound. “You can take this off in a couple hours and gently wash it with water only.”

“Sooo no cum-shots on my back for at least a week? Got it!” Maddi said with a light giggle. “Oh, by the way, is Dylan still racing this weekend?”

“Yeah you’ll just have to stick with it on your tits or ass babe. Think you can handle that? He is racing this weekend. You and the girls gonna be there?”

“I do love a good ass shot. Hell yeah we’re gonna be there! We don’t miss that shit for the world babe.” She pulled her shirt down over the bandage gently before gathering up her things. Maddi always left you a hefty tip, which you appreciated greatly. You gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek before you counted up your money and placed it in the safe under your work area.

Maddi slipped past the beaded curtain to be met with the tall, handsome stranger in the waiting area. She shot the man a wink before she left through the front entrance.

You wiped down your work area, sanitizing everything for your next client before you stood up. You didn’t know anyone but yourself and maddi were in the shop till you slipped through the beaded curtain and were met with Joel Miller.

“Oh shit, sorry man. I didn’t hear anyone else come in. How long have you been standing there?” The first thing you took notice of was his height and the way the leather jacket he was wearing, seemed to bulge at the seams from his prominent broad muscles. You could see some ink peeking out along his wrists and the visible skin exposed beneath his t-shirt.

“Long enough to hear about cum shots.” He chuckled, Texas accent drawling smoothly past his lips.

“She’s a wild one, that’s for damn sure. You’re not from around here I take it? Based on the accent. Texas maybe?”

The first thing Joel noticed about you was your clothing attire. You weren’t afraid to show skin that was for damn sure. He took in the fact that you were wearing a short denim skirt with a tight little top that did little to cover your nipples. You wore fishnets paired with black heeled boots. You were hot, there was no denying that. You were also positively covered in tattoos. He noticed right away that your style was patchwork mixed in with American traditional. You even had a little red ink queen of hearts tattoo along the front of your ear. It easily could pass as a face tattoo. Besides your tattoos, you had a septum piercing and an array of earrings on the same ear that had the tattoo close to it.

“Based on that conversation, she does sound pretty wild. How’d you guess from my accent alone that I’m from Texas? Does it really stick out that much?” Joel asked, crossing his arms across his broad chest, stretching the leather fabric even more.

You knew he was checking you out. It was flattering to have attractive people unashamedly check you out. You knew you were hot. Something that both men, and women and everyone in between desired. You were well known in the LA nightlife. Your boyfriend Dylan hated it. He hated that you dressed a certain way, that you were naturally bubbly, alluring. You had a bit of a mouth to you but hey, momma didn’t raise no bitch. You were everyone’s dream girl, but a real damn problem.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer, handsome.” you grinned and mirrored his movements, crossing your arms over your chest with a raise of your brow. “Yeah, I don’t get many Texas men wandering in here. You stick out like a damn sore thumb man.”

Joel felt his mouth go dry at your suggestion. Was he really staring that damn hard at you? Fuck. He had only just met you, and you were already scrambling his brain. He cleared his throat as he stuck with his intimidating stance. “Can’t deny that I like what I see, huh Angel? Now, is that your real name darlin’, or like one of those fake stage names like the girls in Vegas use?”

“Between you and me, I like what I see as well. Oh, I’m sure you’d love to hear my real name, cowboy. We’re not on those personal terms unfortunately.” You said with a faux sigh of disappointment.

“Ahh, I see. You’re what men like to call a class A tease. Gotta hand it to ya darlin’ you got me hooked already.”

“Consider yourself unspecial, and most definitely unlucky.” You responded with a sickly sweet grin. “So, did you come in here to flirt me up or did you want to get something done? What was your name again? I don’t believe I caught it.”

Joel liked the fact that you could banter and hold your ground. He was unlucky indeed considering the fact that you already had the upper hand on him. “I don’t believe I introduced myself at all. I’m Joel.” He held his hand out for you to shake, a small grin plastered on his lips. “I was actually lookin’ to get somethin’ done. I’m only on my lunch break at the moment so I’d have to come back later unfortunately.”

“Joel? Never heard of a man with that name before. It’s different.” You shook his hand firmly. You could feel the ridges and veins in his hand against your soft skin. “What were you looking to get done? I can pencil you in for my next availability.”

“Well, now you’ve gone and boosted my ego up a notch darlin’. I was lookin’ to get both of my hands done. The knuckles and my fingers. I was thinking American traditional. Nothing really specific. Maybe a skull, snake or somethin’ along those lines.”

“Don’t let it go to your head too fast, cowboy. Knuckle tattoos are fucking sick. I love doing American traditional as well. Tell you what, I’ll sketch something up for you and then you can stop on by after your shift? Where do you work anyway?” You asked, already penciling his name down in your little notebook.

“Damn woman. You gotta take a man out to dinner first before you just start askin’ him personal questions like that.” He chuckled, shooting you a playful wink. “I work at S&M auto body just down the strip. My brother Tommy works there as well.”

“Fuck me. There’s two of you?” You said with a light giggle. Yeah, my boyfriend actually uses that place when he’s reckless with his car. Which is about every other fucking day I swear.”

Of course you had a boyfriend. Of fucking course a vixen, such as yourself was taken.

“Yeah but if I’m being honest, I’m the handsome one. Tommy is just eh. Although, believe it or not, he’s totally a bigger ladies man than I am. Dude can’t keep it in his fucking pants for more than a day, if that.”

“Wow, he sounds like the male version of my friend Maddi. The hot babe that was just in here. She’s out here breaking guys' hearts every other day of the week. I absolutely hype her up for it though. She’s getting it good all the time.”

“No shit? Well, sounds like they would be a perfect match for one another. Maybe we’ll have to make sure they meet or somethin’.”

“Oh, we? No. Sorry Joel. There will be no we but i’m sure they’ll end up meeting eventually. You and Tommy should come to the race Saturday night. Maddi will be there and they can meet and rip each other's clothes off and all that fun stuff.”

“What kind of race are we talkin’ here Angel?” Joel asked with curiosity laced in his tone.

“The only kind of racing that is actually entertaining to watch. Street racing babe. Happens every Friday and Saturday night, right here on the strip. Well, as long as the cops don’t come and bust up our party first.”

“Street racing? Can anyone sign up for it or is it like an invite only kinda deal? Are you gonna be there?”

“Anyone and everyone can sign up. You got a car or bike and you’re good to go. Entry fee is $50 and well..there’s not many rules either. That’s what really draws the crowds in. Just some down and dirty street racing. I’ll be there. I always am. My boyfriend holds the raining title in LA county.”

Joel fought the urge to roll his eyes at you mentioning this boyfriend of yours again. Dude sounded like a total tool and Joel didn’t even know his name, let alone what his stupid face looked like. “Well, Angel. Count me in. I’ll be there and I’ll bring Tommy. How do I sign up?”

“Alright, rookie. You got a taste for some action, huh? We’ve been looking for some new meat to join anyway.” You grabbed a clipboard from one of the drawers and handed it to him. “The $50 isn’t required till the race so just need your name, pretty boy.”

“Came all the way out here for some action darlin’. Any, and all kinds of it. Whatever I can get my hands on really. Your boyfriend might have some competition on his hands. We did somethin’ similar to this back in Texas. Only difference was, it was a bunch of hillbillies and their trucks in an abandoned cornfield. Same concept, I imagine.” He grabbed the clipboard from you, lightly brushing his fingers across your knuckles on purpose. He wasted no time signing his first and last name before handing you the clipboard back.

“We’ll see about all that, cowboy. My next client will be here in about 10. I’ll work on your sketch on my lunch break and then feel free to stop by anytime after 3 today.” You set the clipboard down along the table.

“Sounds like a date, Angel. Catch ya around hot stuff.” He winked before he turned on his heel and slipped past the front entrance door.

Dylan was positively gonna give you hell for this. Did you care? Not one fucking bit. Joel Miller was hot. He was handsome and sexy and you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t want to get a taste of what Texas had to offer. What your boyfriend didn’t know, wasn’t going to kill him.

Tag list: @chaotic-mystery @peterhollandkait @lovers-liability @korynnekorynne @loquaciousferret @cutesyscreenname @atinylittlepain @yazsos @kirsteng42 @777-wonders @last-girl @pedgeitopascalreads @pedrostories

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chromations · 2 months

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The Robert Plant post that's been on my mind since the jimmy post.

EDIT: tumblr fucked up and deleted half the post AND put it without tags. Now complete

It's easier to write about psychology I relate to. To dive into something so clear, so easy to point out the faults of. Writing Jimmy's story was easy. What I'm writing now is less than.

This is how Led Zeppelin impacted Robert Plant. As usual, feel free to add, and the rest is under the cut. This is gonna be sad (and long)

Anyone can spot how, now, Robert reflects on his Zeppelin days with disdain. He doesn't perform nor relate to the majority of his Zeppelin songs anymore. Of course, just as the rest of the band, he's sick of the press asking for another tour. Another reunion. Another reminder of a dark spot in who we see as the golden god.

What happened?

What *didn't* happen?? At first, Zeppelin started out and grazed the sun. And the sun had been spun for years, so to speak. Popularity, sex, riches, women, freedom, *music*. Who wouldn't want that? Of course, there had been the lyrics written by a guy in his early 20s, the many meanings eluding and warping to the ears of the listener. There was criticism over the different lifestyles, tear gassing, police raids, there was Jimmy and Lori. Even recounted by Jimmy Page (Through the On This Day feature), they'd perform in Memphis, only to be stopped by a man with a gun when they'd wanted to perform an encore.

Still, each life had its faults. Robert would write Sick Again's lyrics with the groupees in mind, with the underlying sadness for what Lori had gone through.

Come 1975, and the wax starts to melt. Jimmy starts on heroin at some point during their tours that year. After Plant's family flies out, he and Robert vacation in Morocco. After, in Greece, Robert is driving with his family, and they get into an accident: Almost fatal on Maureen, a broken ankle + elbow on Robert, and bruises on the kids. Back in England, they'd receive care... Only for Plant to have to leave England due to his tax exile. He'd spend the time in a wheelchair, writing and developing Presence. Achilles Last Stand, about his time in Morocco with Jimmy, previously called The Wheelchair Song. Tea For One, about the loneliness and despair on tour, of being away from his family. For Your Life is about a friend of Robert's who had been heavy in drugs. Quote from faroutmagazine, it's reflected that Presence was "a cry from the depths"/"a cry of survival"

Presence is often shat on for what's perceived as a lackluster, boring, rehashed album. While I see where these statements come from, Presence happens to be my favorite album.

In 76, Presence is released, and in the same year, Zeppelin's concert film The Song Remains The Same, to make up for the canceled tours in pursuit of Plant's recovery.

1977 comes around. American tour. Everyone's unsure if the band will perform the same after such a hiatus, but it works out. Mostly. Page, as in my other post, is emotionally unavailable, to say the least, in his own struggles. The band in total is still imbibing in heavy drug usage (JPJ, however, more discreet with his use and not to be found in embarrassing situations), but the tour breaks records, a heavy hitting comeback.

Icarus falls, the zeppelin crashes.

Come summer, the third leg just there, and Robert gets the call: Karac Plant, his son, passed while he was away. The cause had been an unknown stomach illness, and he couldn't have even been there for his son. Gut wrenching. Karac was 5.

Tour canceled, and the last time Zeppelin played North America, Plant flies back home with Bonham and Richard Cole at his side. Jimmy and Peter Grant remain in America, while Jones takes time for vacation. During his time of immense grief, Plant heavily considered quitting music all together to be a teacher, as he just wanted to be with his family. While everyone else was off flitting about, Robert says John Bonham was the only one really at his side for the entire process. Out of the members of Zeppelin, Bonzo was the only one attending Karac's funeral at Plant's side. The darkest, most heartbreaking moment of your life, and your friends aren't around (Of course Bonham was, of course he was around. They were best friends). Jones had said, later, with what Elvis dying, all he knew was that he (Robert) should have his space. Lacking etiquette and not knowing consolation shouldn't mean you (in context, Jones and Page) lack the ability to be there for your friend, though.

Robert never fully got over Karac's death. I wouldn't blame him. He wrote multiple songs over the years honoring his son (All My Love, Blue Train, I Believe).

In addition, he would have a talk with himself, in which he would quit drugs. Quote below.

After everything of 1977, the future of Led Zeppelin became uncertain. Just about silence for a long time, while Plant went through the grief process. About 1977, he says: “[it was] the year it all stopped for me. Nothing could make it all right again and nothing ever will.”

"During the absolute darkest times of my life when I lost my boy and my family was in disarray, it was Bonzo who came to me."

Finally, Page and Bonham convince Plant to stay in music, to stay with Zeppelin, when Jimmy told him to take a break until he's ready, and that the band is nothing without Robert.

Zeppelin returns in 1979, though the light has dimmed. Jimmy and Bonham lose themselves further. If you take a look, In Through The Out Door is largely about Robert's feelings once more. When recording and writing, it's often said that the band had split in two: Sober (Plant and JPJ) and not sober (Page, Bonham) . While Plant and Jones wrote and composed, the other two would fail to show up on time, sometimes even at all. As previously mentioned, All My Love and I'm Gonna Crawl are tributes to Karac. In The Evening is about the struggles and stress faced even through his stardom and wealth.

Carouselambra tells the story of Zeppelin's fall. From kings, gods, to rust. In particular, it details the loneliness and betrayal felt by Plant after his band mates failed to be there for him.

"Where was your word, where did you go?

Where was your helping, where was your bow?

Dull is the armour, cold is the day

Hard was the journey, dark was the way, way

I heard the word, I couldn't stay, oh

I couldn't stand it another day, another day"

In particular, "Where was your word, where did you go?" struck with me.

The rest of the album is filled with lighter, story centered, and explorational songs. Plant knew that while Zeppelin was there, it was nearing its end. Come Knebworth, a great show, but Robert is different, you see it in his eyes. The naivety, the innocence, the belief that he could have it all, has faded.

And nobody else is the same at knebworth, either.

Fast forward a year and John Bonham dies, god rest his soul. Led Zeppelin breaks up. Robert loses his best friend and son in the span of 3 years.

Icarus burns. The zeppelin crashes.

Robert distances himself from the rock scene, exchanging most of his heavy vocals to explore different genres of music. He shies away from Zeppelin, but the public is calling for more. An encore. A reunion. Each one goes wrong, between being too stoned and ill timed, the improper rehearsals, the matter not being taken seriously.

Page and Plant starts and Robert finds himself back in his old shoes, polished and new. He enjoyed it this time around, digging up unreleased material and playing it "Unledded."

The masses want more. The golden god, playing the same old tune and having to visit the same old wounds of life. They want the sun to shine like it had been touched again, but the sun shined differently back then. The public dooms him to the same old song he's been fighting to escape, but the song doesn't remain the same, the song has changed.

He's still beautiful. Still Robert Plant. But he's not the same as he was, he's not the bright, young boy performing Stairway to the crowd for the first time, or 50 playing as Page and Plant. He's past that.

December 10th, 2007, O2 Arena, London. He says good evening. One last show. Jason Bonham on drums and backing vocals. John Paul Jones, keyboard and bass guitar. Jimmy Page, electric guitar. And himself, Robert Plant. A legendary show, honored to Ahmet Ertegun.

After, Jones and Jimmy want to continue with a reunion. Robert doesn't, won't. He has a solo career. He's fought to free himself from the golden boy he was. This isn't him anymore. These aren't his songs.

He grows disconnected from his songs of Zeppelin, a lifetime ago. He grows to hate stairway, until it's 2012 at the Kennedy Honors Center. Heart performs Stairway to Heaven with a choir and Jason Bonham. Robert tears up, seeing his best friends son out there. In that moment, he grows to appreciate Stairway: Only if it's sung by a younger voice, though.

The media wants more. The people want more. They will always want more, it's never enough, but he can't sing a song that's lost its meaning to him.

Robert Plant is a man of many times. The golden god we know of now is eternally different from who he was. I will always love him through all walks of life, each and every stage.

#robert plant #led zeppelin #tw child death #i guess

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whiskyanndboots · 8 months

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SNAP Summary- You’d never seen Dean so angry, especially at you and he was a pretty aggressive guy. Companion piece to Not A Fool & Part 2

Pairing- DeanXReader Warnings- 18+ only, swearing, canon divergence, violence.

A/N- This has been sitting in my drafts for many months and I thought I should just let it be, not edited, sorry.

The hunt, in your opinion, hadn’t gone too badly, or rather as badly as it could have. Both of you were breathing and still in one piece so you couldn’t really say it was a total fail.

You thought back to the morning two days ago when you and Dean had driven out of Harvelle’s farm, the sun was out and Dean was smiling wide in the passenger seat making jokes to try and coax you out of your bad mood. You’d stopped for food as soon as you drove into town, Dean had practically waxed poetic about some Baconater burger he’d discovered on his travels, he’d been right too, you’d have dreams about that burger. Then it was straight to business to get the low-down on the deaths from the local cops, the case was a slightly confusing one, the timelines were off somehow, but neither you or Dean could put your finger on it.

You wondered now if Sam had been here instead of you if the surprise ambush would have been avoided.

Dean had kept good on his promise to let you take the reins and up until the point where you were being strangled by one of three serial killing spirits in an abandoned run down house in the woods, it had actually been fun.

It had been a nice reprieve from how things had been before you went to Harvelle’s. Dean had been different, more closed off from you then he had ever been, and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why.

You and Dean had fallen into friendship quite easily, well after the initial drunken come-on and subsequent rejection on your part. Dean had even taken you out to buy cassette tapes, on one of their visits to Bobby’s, when you told him you were thinking of putting something more modern than a tape player in the Chevelle. He’d been passionately against you screwing ‘her’ up and even more offended when you told him you’d never listened to any Motorhead or Black Sabbath. So off you both went into Sioux Falls to a small old school cassette store where he picked out a bunch of Dean Winchester approved albums while explaining why you needed them, no Led Zeppelin though since the store was out much to Dean’s dismay.

As Sam and Dean were packing up to leave the next day Dean had walked over to you a little sheepishly and handed you a cassette of his favourite Zeppelin album with orders not to break it or there’d be dire consequences. Sam had looked slightly bewildered so you figured this was not a common gesture from Dean.

After that day you realised you may have judged him a little too quickly, yeah Dean was definitely a womanising, whisky loving, charming goofball with a whole lotta baggage, but above all that he was undeniably a very good man.

You had since genuinely looked forward to the sound of the Impala rolling into Singer’s Salvage Yard knowing that you’d get to hang out with Sam and Dean for atleast a night, well if Bobby didn’t banish you on the grounds of ‘serious shit’ they had shown up for. You didn’t mind about that at all since you weren’t interested in getting involved in any demon or angel business at the time.

Alot of good that did now that Lilith was on your ass.

When Dean found out Lilith wanted you he decided to start treating you as if you didn’t have a competent bone in your body. He was harsher with you and you weren’t really in the mood for his bullshit considering you were still having a hard enough time accepting that you couldn’t just tap out when it got too scary now.

So you had enjoyed the shift back to the old Dean for the last 48 hours.

You glanced over at Dean who was driving your car, you didn’t think it wise to argue with how tightly clenched his jaw was, it was a stark contrast to the easy smile you’d seen from him as he sat shotgun on the way here. Dean hadn’t spoken to you since he half carried you out of the burning house. You pulled away the jacket you were pushing against the gash on your shoulder, blood had seeped through the fabric of your long sleeved shirt starting up near your shoulder and ending near your elbow, you could just see the nasty cut through the rip. You didn’t even know what slashed you, once you entered the rundown house in search of bones to burn, in the basement according to a bunch a traumatised teenagers, Dean didn’t even have time to fully open the door to said basement before the ambush began.

You traced your fingers over your throat , it was already tender to touch. The feeling of being strangled was fresh in your mind, the tightening of whatever the spirit had wrapped around your neck from behind pulling hard and lifting you off the ground, gasping for air and desperately trying to get your fingers underneath it to loosen it’s hold. You don’t think you’d ever been so scared in your life, that was the first time you actually thought your number was up.

Movement caught your eye and you turned your head to look at Dean, his eyes were trained on the fingers on your throat, you dropped your hand into your lap and his eyes flicked up to meet yours. You took a deep inhale at the anger in them, you’d never seen Dean so angry, especially at you and he was a pretty aggressive guy. He quickly looked back to the road, but you saw his hand tighten around the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

You were at a loss for any reason he was so mad at you, you did everything right, yeah you set the entire basement on fire in a panic, but it worked. Your own anger was starting to build inside your chest, you knew what was waiting for you back at the hotel room, you’d be getting a lecture about how this is the reason you shouldn’t be hunting alone. Honestly you will be the first to admit you didn’t want to hunt, you were perfectly happy safe and sound at Singer Salvage answering phones while Bobby was out on hunts and researching lore from Bobby’s infinite shelves of books.

Finally Dean swerved into the motel parking lot pulling the car into a space infront of the room he made you share with him, despite your protest about wanting a double bed. Dean turned off the car with a heavy sigh. He licked his lips like he was gearing up to say something, he moved to face you eyes flicking between your wounds, his face closed off again suddenly and he was out of the car before you could speak.

You followed him silently to the door as he roughly unlocked it and pushed it open, you closed the door behind you awkwardly standing with your back to it still pressing your jacket to your arm.

“How bad is it?” Dean asked flatly as he sat on his bed.

“It’ll need stitches” you replied, your voice hoarse.

“Shower” Dean gestured to the bathroom door as he ran a hand over his face looking anywhere but at you. You didn’t answer as you grabbed your duffel bag and slammed the door behind you.

You balked at your own reflection in the mirror, you’d been through it alright, you looked like hell. You leaned toward the mirror to inspect the bruise that was already a dark purple around your throat and winced. You let out a long sigh and got to work on getting your shirt off, some of the blood had dried so not a pleasant experience.

The cut looked pretty gnarly, it ran from the top of your shoulder stopping about half way down your bicep. After your shower you went through your bag finding the only black tank top you’d packed and a pair of grey sweatpants, you blowdried your hair grateful the smoke smell hadn’t hung around, you tried to focus on the task at hand rather than letting yourself get worked up at the conversation awaiting you behind that door.

You finally had to force yourself to leave the bathroom, Dean was sitting at the small table in the room, he was holding a bottle of whiskey that you knew was much fuller this morning. Dean kicked a chair infront of him forward gesturing for you to sit. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch” Dean said as you sat down.

“I figured” You replied taking the bottle of whiskey from him and taking a swig, your face screwed up at the burn in your throat, but you took another for good measure.

He took the bottle back of you and placed the opening at the top of your gash, you jerked away as the liquid ran down your arm, holy shit it burned.

“Gotta stay still” Dean murmured as he picked up the needle and thread

You quickly pulled your hair aside staring straight ahead trying to make your body relax as Dean used his hand to move your left arm where he needed. You felt the cold tip of the needle press against your skin and braced yourself. Dean hesitated for a moment before breathing deep and pushing it in.

“If you need to stop tell me” This was the least monotone he'd sounded all night.

“Just get it done” You closed your eyes and tried to breathe deep, you’d sit through this in one go from sheer pride at this point.

“How’s the face?” You asked, he’d gotten a nasty hit to the jaw and a bruise was starting to darken across his cheek.

“Fine” Dean answered bluntly.

You breathed out a deep sigh, no conversation then.

The silence was making you nervous, the suspense of waiting for him to say something, anything was getting too much. You dreaded the argument the whole car ride, but now that you were getting the silent treatment you were ready to hash it out

“Done” Dean said throwing the needle on the table. You felt your body relax in relief, it was still throbbing like hell.

You turned your head, the bruise on his face was not fine it was spreading further by the minute, His expression was tense and his movements sharp. He pushed himself out of his chair and walked towards the small kitchenette grabbing his wallet.

“Dean" you stood to walk towards him, resigned to get him out of this shitty mood.

“Hungry?” He answered gruffly.

“Dean” You said again more forcefully.

“I’m goin’ to get pizza” he darted past you for the door.

“You gonna give me an ‘i told you so’ or not?” You ran a hand through your hair, you were getting bored of this already.

“What’s the point of that, huh?” He whipped around so quick you stepped back even though he was five feet away from you, you weren’t expecting him to raise his voice so suddenly. He’d spent the last hour quietly seething, now he was boiling over.

“Well, you obviously have something on your mind, Dean” you dragged your voice out provokingly.

“Damn right I do, everyone’s lost their frickin’ minds sending you out here alone, especially you! You just want me to sit on my ass at Ellen's until I have to come find whatever's left of you in some Podunk back road town?” He crossed the room towards you, his face dark, you could understand why people and monsters feared Dean Winchester, but you’d be damned if you backed down now.

You leaned back against the kitchen counter arms crossed tightly infront of you. Your arm was throbbing harder from the movement and Dean’s asshole mood was really pushing you to the edge of your patience.

“What the fuck is your problem?” harshly left your mouth before you could stop it.

“You know what my damn problem is, if you were on this hunt alone-“

“No” you interrupted loudly “not just today, I mean in general”

Dean gave you an incredulous look that finally set you off.

“Are you really gonna stand there and pretend like nothings going on? I’m not stupid Dean” You tightened the grip on your crossed arms trying very had not to raise your voice.

“(Y/N) i’m- ” Dean rubbed his fingers across his eyes.

“Because you’ve been pretty damn distant lately and call me crazy I thought we were friends” you pushed yourself off the counter closer to Dean.

“We are, that’s why i know you can’t handle this”

“What do you expect me to do, just stand there and scream? ‘cause it sounds like that's exactly what you’re asking me to do!” You were yelling now.

“I'm asking you to stay out of it, lay low and let us deal with it, this isn’t your fight” Dean was yelling back at you, you'd never admit out loud the shivers that went down your spine at the deep timbre of his voice.

“It is my fight, Lilith made sure of that”

“Well if your best is anything like tonight you’re going to get yourself killed!“ He roared.

“Do you think i want this? I wanted to go home, do you know how scared I am?” Your voice broke but, you were too angry to be embarrassed about it “I’m very aware that when she comes for me there’s no stopping her, but i’m atleast gonna go down fighting"

“What do you mean there’s no stopping her?” Dean snapped back stepping closer, his face incredulous and strained.

“It’s Lilith, no one can!” Your voice sounded half hysterical, Dean of all people should know this.

“Just do what i say and she wont get anywhere near you, stop making this so fucking difficult!” Dean’s was was getting more rage filled by the second.

“Oh, so your gonna protect me from Lilith, are you?” You replied raising your eyebrow. Dean’s jaw clenched, he was so close to you now you could feel his breath on your face “how exactly is that gonna play out? because from what i’ve seen every attempt to stop her hasn't worked” You yelled the last part so loud you were surprised at yourself.

“If Lilith wants you she’s gonna have to go through me and she ain’t gettin’ through me” Dean’s bellowing, deep voice echoed across the room. The resolute way he spoke sent shivers down your spine, his expression was wrathful. The full weight of those words hit you so hard you took a deep breath in surprise, it hadn’t occurred to you that Dean was willing to put himself in between you and the most powerful Demon they knew.

“I-“ You opened your mouth to respond, but a strangled, embarrassing, noise left it instead, you couldn’t think of a response with Dean’s determined gaze staring you down. You could feel the heat of his skin on your own, suddenly you felt much too close to Dean and needed to get space between you.

You didn't have time to put the thought into action before Dean shot forward pressing his mouth hard onto yours, his hands grabbing your arms. It only lasted a moment before he was pulling back and letting you go, he looked as surprised as you must of, only you felt yourself following his mouth, heat burning red across your face when you realised what you were doing.

You stopped yourself from following through, startled at your own reaction, but didn’t move back. Dean’s eyes bounced from your lips to your eyes and back again before he once again moved to fill the space between you, mouth pressing over yours.

There was nothing, slow or sweet about it, your lips moved against each other harshly, needy and wet. His hands were on your waist then sliding up your back pulling you closer until you were pressed together, you still felt like you couldn’t get close enough.

Dean pushed you backwards until your back hit the kitchen counter, his mouth left yours pressing opened mouth kisses along your neck, it was all too much, your arm was throbbing with pain, your chest was heaving and small breathy moans and whimpers were leaving your throat as his hands slid underneath your shirt.

You were pulling at his flannel wanting him closer while your other hand ran through his hair, suddenly you were moving upwards as Dean placed you down on the counter, he stared at you for a moment, green eyes wide and full of want before smashing his lips back onto yours, his hands were back caressing a path up your spine while you held his jaw in both of yours.

Your shirt was being roughly pulled off, your arms suddenly over your head as his gaze took in the sight of your breasts, you hadn’t even bothered with a bra after your shower. He swiped his thumb over your hardened nipple making your body jump at the spark that traveled down to your core, his eyes flicked up to yours dark and needy as he kissed you again, softer than before. He moved his lips back to your neck as his one of his hands cupped your breast, he was driving you crazy. You pushed his flannel off his shoulders and yanked at his black t-shirt until he lifted it over his head.

A noise pierced through your clouded head, a phone was ringing. You turned your head to look to the side until you saw your phone lighting up on the kitchen table, before you could put together a cohesive thought Dean’s hand grabbed your chin and pulled your face back to him, tongue diving into your mouth.

His arm circled around your back and lifted you off the counter until you were pressed tightly to his chest, his skin against yours made you gasp as he let out a deep moan into your mouth, your legs tightened around him holding on. Your head was foggy, you don't think you’ve ever wanted anyone more than you wanted Dean right now.

He ducked his head down flattening his tongue across your nipple, you threw your head back and buried your fingers in his hair as he started sucking, too much, too much but still not enough. You’d never been kissed like this, never been touched like this before. He was so strong and broad, his arms full of muscle, he made you feel safe and warm.

“Dean” your voice sounded hoarse and breathless.

He dropped you down to the counter still pulling you close and making sure your skin was touching everywhere.

“Never thought you'd let me do this” He breathed between wet kisses “Never thought you’d want to”

“I do” You gasped desperately reaching for his belt, he let our a noise almost like a growl and grabbed at your sweatpants and underwear pulling both of them down your thighs at once, you were aching for him, you couldn't wait anymore.

Suddenly he was gone.

Dean had moved back and slammed his hand on the counter beside you before stalking across the room to a bedside table, to his phone.

That’s right your phone had been ringing, now Dean’s was.

“Ellen” Dean answered his voice annoyed.

Ofcourse, you hadn't told anyone you were both fine. A long deep breath filled your chest as you slid of the kitchen counter, knees almost buckling. You pulled your sweatpants back up, Dean was watching you closely still talking to Ellen chest bare and belt undone, you swallowed hard wishing he'd hurry up.

You were kicking yourself for not calling Ellen when you got back, she'd be worried sick by now, Bobby and Sam would be convincing themselves it wasn't silly to drive out here, Jo would be climbing the walls just like you would be if she was out here.

Cold, hard dread washed over your body like ice.

Jo.

You had promised Jo nothing was going on with you and Dean, that you didn't see him like that, you had promised it wouldn't be a problem and she had told you it didn't really matter, but you knew it did.

You told her to go for it and she'd shoved you away cheeks going uncharacteristically red and told you Dean didn't see her like that.

You told her he'd be crazy not to and she'd looked hopeful. She'd said "Sometimes I think he might, but there's always something in the way.

"Just....long day" Dean was saying to Ellen.

Dean was watching you, eyes roaming over your naked chest, swollen lips and surely messy hair. You covered your breasts with your arms feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden.

Dean was going to come back over here when he hung up that phone and you knew if he touched you again you weren't going to be able to stop this deep aching from taking over.

You saw the phone fall from Dean's ear almost in slow motion, already stepping back towards you looking purposeful, like he knew exactly what he wanted.

You darted for the bathroom door slamming it closed behind you and almost falling over in your haste, you couldn't do this. Not to Jo, not after you told her you didn't see Dean like that, told her to 'go for it'.

She trusted you.

"(Y/N)" Dean knocked on the door.

"I... I just need a minute" You called back panicked.

"Are you.. you okay?" Dean sounded worried.

"I'm fine" You moved to look at yourself in the mirror.

You looked ravished, your cheeks warmed with colour at the sight of your swollen lips and flushed skin, you covered your breasts ashamed with yourself.

You sat down on the toilet, head in your hands taking deep breaths, How did this happen?

You never thought Dean would want you like this, you couldn't say you hadn't entertained the thought. When you'd met Sam and Dean you'd had plenty, but after Dean had come onto you after one too many beers at Bobby's you'd rejected him and his invitation to be a notch on his bedpost.

If anything you'd thought your only chance with a Winchester was Sam, you got along wonderfully, but even that was a stretch, you never thought you were Sam's type let alone Dean's.

Men like Dean Winchester didn't want girls like you, they ended up with strong women like Jo. You were the girl who stayed on the side lines and did research, you weren't brave, you were terrified half the time.

Your not sure how long you sat there contemplating your betrayal until the sound of the hotel door closing brought you back to reality. You listened for movement for a brief moment before slowly opening the bathroom door. The hotel room was empty, Dean was gone.

You picked up your tank top from the ground, pulling it over your head as you walked to the window, pushing the curtain aside. The Impala was still parked there, no sign of Dean.

You weren't really sure what your next move was here.

It was surely going to be awkward conversations and half hearted embarrassed smiles from now on. Maybe Dean wouldn't even bring it up again, maybe once his head had cleared he'd realised this was a mistake too.

Maybe you wouldn't even have to talk about it at all.

You turned the TV on to distract your wandering mind, it had been probably half an hour before you heard keys in the door. Your body tensed and your heart started racing, but you remained sitting casually on the chair.

Dean walked into the room holding a pizza and a six pack, he stood there awkwardly for a moment like he was unsure if he should come in.

"Great, i'm starving" You smiled up at him willing yourself to be normal.

Dean seemed to relax a bit and moved to join you.

"Hope you feel like plain ol' pepperoni" He said while opening the box and grabbing a piece before thudding back into his chair and cracking a beer.

"What did Ellen want?" You asked while picking up a piece of your own.

"She was just checking in, got worried" Dean answered, the pizza seemed too thick to swallow.

You ate in silence for a while, pretending like everything was fine, just like you wanted. Naturally Dean didn't let things lie.

"Listen (Y/N)" Dean spoke with a sudden confidence as the credits for whatever sitcom was on started rolling on tv.

"Dean, can we not?" You pleaded turning to look at him imploringly.

"I don't really want to do this either, but I think we should clear the air" He answered.

"It's fine Dean" You replied lifting the side of your mouth in a small, reassuring smile.

"You locked yourself in the bathroom" He replied taking a sip of his beer not making eye contact.

"I just, I just didn't want to do something while things were....heated that we'd regret later" You couldn't even look at him while you said it.

"Regret" Dean mumbled looking down at the floor.

You were so bad at this.

"Dean, you're my friend, I hope you are anyway" You frowned, Dean looked up over at you surprised.

"Ofcourse I am" He looked half pained.

"Can we just pretend this didn't happen?" You begged.

He was quiet for too long, staring at you with that wounded look you hated.

"Sure" He took a long swig for his beer before wiping his mouth and standing.

"Going to grab a shower and hit the hay, long day tomorrow" He continued while grabbing his duffle-bag and closing the bathroom door behind him.

That had to be done, it was only ever going to be sex with Dean, you wouldn't risk your friendship with Jo for one night with Dean Winchester.

Being the one on the otherside of a locked bathroom door was oddly lonely.

#dean x female!reader #dean x you #spn reader insert #spn imagine #dean winchester #supernatural #Dean Winchesterxreader

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djosephqueery · 1 year

Text

We talk a lot about Steve getting into Eddie's interests- playing D&D, listening to metal, having Eddie read LotR to him- and some people have written about Eddie getting into Steve's interests, but there's still quite an imbalance. So here are my thoughts on what aspects of Steve's life Eddie gets excited about.

Eddie really enjoys listening to music with Steve. While he may be a metalhead, that doesn't mean that's the only genre he listens to, and to limit him to that would be an injustice to his character. First and foremost Eddie likes music. He likes music that pushes boundaries and experiments with sound and makes people think. What a hypocrite he'd be if he refused to listen to anything outside his preferred genre.

One of his favorite things to do with Steve is swap music. They'll sit and alternate playing Slayer and Electric Light Orchestra, Dio and Billy Joel. They'll pick up new tapes from artists neither have heard of and talk about what they do and don't like about them. They like discovering tapes they have in common in their collections- Fleetwood Mac, Queen, and Led Zeppelin, to name a few.

They go to concerts together regularly as dates. Mostly local groups neither has heard of before, but always enjoyable.

Eddie figures out early on in their relationship that Steve likes to sing. That he's good at it. That he thought about a musical theatre career but decided he didn't want to deal with all the rejection that comes with auditioning. Eddie decides to learn all of Steve's favorite songs- pop and otherwise- on guitar so Steve can sing along when he plays. So that when Eddie is mindlessly strumming while trying to get out restless energy, Steve will know some of the songs. He even gets Steve onstage a couple times for some slower songs after they've been together a while.

Eddie listens to Top 40 hits with Steve (though he'd never admit that to the kids. Not because he's ashamed, but because they would never stop teasing him about how gone he is for Steve if they knew), and learns Steve's favorite tracks so he can play them for him.

It took a very long time, but after seeing how legitimately excited Steve gets over sports, Eddie decided to give that a try too. He watches games with Steve, tapes them for him when Steve has a long shift and can't watch it live. He still doesn't quite understand the rules and mixes up terms, but he can admit that it's fun to try and follow along and predict strategies and bemoan bad ref calls.

Steve has even gotten Eddie to go to a few games in person with him. It didn't take much convincing, Eddie talks a big talk, but he's a sucker for spending time with Steve and seeing him happy. He's come to the conclusion that being in a crowd at a sports game isn't all that different from being in a crowd at a concert (as far as people gathering to watch a common interest goes), and energy is infectious. He ends up liking the first game he attends much more than he anticipated.

It helps that he likes trying to get the Kiss Cam to show him and Steve.

#this is obviously in an 80s without homophobia with the kiss cam thing #Eddie still refuses to actually play sports #but he loves watching Steve play with the kids #the music thing is more of a mutual interest than Eddie getting into one of Steve's #but I'm counting it because it's something they both get excited about #and Eddie gets really into Steve's tastes #as well as introducing his own #I want to write more about Steve's interests but we get so little about him in canon other than Jock TM #so to me he's a singer #is this projection again?#I'll never tell #it may also be a little influenced by the fact that Joe Keery can in fact sing #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #stranger things

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 10 months

Text

Comfort Breakfast

Summary - Part 22 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends)

Warnings - none

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Once you’re all packed up and checked out Dean drives you both to a local diner. He orders you both coffees, a straight black and a mocha for you, and a tall stack of pancakes with a side of bacon and maple syrup to share. While you wait for your order to arrive you decide to open up about your shower thoughts.

“So, uh, I was thinking…”

“I hope you didn’t hurt yourself,” Dean quips.

“I’m trying to be serious here, asshole.”

“You would’ve said the same thing to me. In fact, you have on multiple occasions.” You shoot him an unimpressed look and he holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, Sweetheart, continue. What were you thinking about?”

“I don’t know if I want to tell you now,” you tease.

He reaches over and takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. “Please, Baby, I’m sorry. Tell me.”

“You’re lucky I love you…”

“I know. Now tell me what you were thinking about.”

“Maybe, our wedding doesn’t have to wait until we’re out.”

“What are you saying? You still want to marry me?”

Just as you’re about to elaborate, your phone rings. “It’s Andre,” you say, Dean rolls his eyes and you shake your head at him smiling as you answer. “Hi Bestie, you’d better be calling to tell me you and Danny finally set a wedding date.”

“Not quite. Look, I know you said you’re not hunting anymore after everything you’ve been through recently. But we’ve been doing some venue hunting in Vegas and something feels off. I promised Danny I wouldn’t hunt it but I refuse to let some vengeful spirit ruin our prospects or anyone else’s special day.”

“You have impeccable timing, actually. This is just what I need right now. If you can try to find out everything you can about it we can be there in a day or so. I can’t wait to see you and Danny!”

“See you soon, Bestie! I’ll text you the deets.”

As the line goes silent your food and coffee arrive. Once the waitress leaves Dean takes a sip of his coffee staring at you expectantly.

“How do you feel about Vegas?”

“Gambling, drinking and sex. Sounds like heaven.”

“Good, because Andre caught a case there. But uh, you’re a pledge remember.”

“Biggest regret ever. Can we still go to the casino?” he asks with a mouth full of bacon.

“After we gank whatever it is, sure. I could use a night of gambling and booze.”

You both dig into your breakfast in relative silence. Once you’re full you push the plate towards Dean and lean back in the booth before breaking the silence again. “I don’t wanna get married in Vegas. I want something more classy.”

“Trust me, you deserve way more than a rushed Vegas wedding and I’m going to make sure you get it.”

“I’m not much of a traditionalist, and I don’t need much, but if we’re gonna do it, I want it to be special.”

“It will be, I promise. You ready for an extra long road trip, my sweet?”

“Bring it on.”

Dean places a few bills on the table under the plate and stands up before holding his hand out to you. You slide to the end of the booth before taking his hand and letting him lead the way back to the car. He opens the passenger door for you and closes it once you’re situated inside, then moves around to the driver’s side to get in himself. You listen to the engine roar to life as he speeds down the highway, then shuffle through his box of cassettes.

“What do you wanna listen to driver?”

He glances at you and the box quickly before putting his eyes back on the road. He sighs and then says, “You pick.”

“I thought the driver picked the music?” you say shocked.

“Don’t make me change my mind, and don’t tell Sam.”

You flick through your choices again before deciding on one of his favourites: Led Zeppelin II. Once the classic rock fills the car he shoots you a quick, surprised look. “You get a chance to play whatever you want and you pick one of my favourite albums? I really don’t deserve you.”

His free hand finds your thigh and squeezes softly. You put your hand on top of his and then above the music say, “What made you agree to the chastity pledge?”

He nods his chin towards the radio, so you turn it down, and then once it’s quieter he replies, “The prospect of a second chance. Being able to just hit refresh … after everything that’s happened. I really did want that baby, you know … I could picture it so clearly. Waking up to an empty bed in the middle of the night only to find you sitting in a rocking chair in the nursery feeding and singing to our beautiful little girl. I imagined the perfect little princess with your cute nose and sparkling eyes.”

You look over at him and see the tears running down his cheeks. You slide across the bench seat and wipe them away with your thumbs, trying your best not to hinder his view of the road, then rest your head on his shoulder. “I promise one day we’ll make that dream come true. Well, I can’t promise you a little girl, that’s up to your sperm, but the rest … I want that more than anything. Just not yet, okay?”

He quickly kisses the top of your head before you feel him nod.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s just past eight at night by the time Dean finally pulls into a diner just off the highway. You’d been complaining about needing a bathroom for about half an hour so the second the wheels stop moving you jump out. You can hear Dean laughing from behind you but you ignore him as you bolt inside. When you come back out he’s sat in a booth with two glasses of Cola and two burgers with fries in front of him. You quickly join him and take a big bite of the burger, and then say with your mouth half-full, “You have no idea how much I love you!”

Dean swallows his mouthful and then says, “I love you too, sweetheart.”

After washing it down with some Cola you reply, “Huh? I was talking to the burger.” When he shoots you an offended look you add, “But I guess I love you too, you dork.”

After you both finish eating Dean gets up to use the bathroom himself, so you pull out your phone and impulsively start looking up wedding dresses. You know you don’t want anything too fancy or outrageous. You scroll past ballroom styles dresses and mermaid ones that you just know you wouldn’t be able to walk in. Then your fingers stop on a simple, white wrap-up cami dress with a split in the front and simple yet elegant lace look fabric. You could imagine yourself in that dress, standing in a field with a simple bouquet walking towards your handsome hunter. You hear Dean’s breath hitch from behind you; you turn around and see him staring in shock at your screen while carrying a plate of cherry pie. You turn your phone off and take the plate and place it on the table before he drops it.

“So, your serious about doing this soon?” He asks, slipping into the booth opposite you.

“We have to go to Vegas first. But despite everything … or because of everything I don’t want to wait. Our lives are in danger every day, I have faith we can get out, but what if we don’t and we never get a chance? After the baby and the djinn … time is precious and our lives can change in an instant.”

“Then let’s gank this ghost and then I’m gonna marry myself a wife.” He takes a bite of the pie and then adds, “I never thought I’d get to say that.”

“I still can’t believe I’m going to marry the warrior, Dean Winchester.”

“You would look incredible in that dress by the way. You don’t get a chance to dress up much in our lives, but when you do … Even that tight little black FBI dress you wore that time … I swear you’re going to be the death of me, Sweetheart.”

“Just eat your pie, Winchester.”

He takes a scoop and leans over the table, holding the fork in front of your lips until you open them and let him feed it to you. Sitting here like this, planning your wedding and joking together, it’s hard to believe that just a few days ago you were barely talking. Or that you’d suffered such a great loss just a couple of months ago. Once the plate is clean you both get up and head outside. Just before you reach the car you pull him in for a kiss, and then reach into his pocket and steal the keys. As soon as he feels your hand he pulls away and tries to grab you, but he’s too slow. You bolt around the car to the driver’s side and slip in starting the engine. He defeatedly gets in the passenger side.

“You drove all day, it’s my turn. Get some sleep.”

“I’d argue but it’s so sexy when my girl drives my Baby.”

“Shut up and get some sleep.” You put your foot down and take off into the darkness. Unsurprisingly, he refuses to sleep, opting to watch you and do his best to help you stay focused and awake.

It’s around three in the morning when you can barely keep your eyes open, so you pull over among some trees and shut off the engine.

“Come here,” Dean says as he turns to you opening his arms.

You cuddle for a while, but you know neither of you will get decent sleep like this so eventually you sit up.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, barely awake.

“Go to sleep. I love you.” You lean down and place a soft kiss on his lips before climbing over the bench and laying down on the back seat.

Little do you know, Dean listens and waits until you stop stirring before finally drifting off himself.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck, @iprobablyshipit91, @sassy-pelican, @fallenlilangel99, @heavenlyhopeful0

#dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff

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adalwolfgang · 10 months

Text

What shall I tell my ma...

Chapter 1

Teen!Beaugard (Bo) Sinclair x Teen!Fem!reader

Summary: You met Beaugard Sinclair back in 1989 when Ambrose was still heavily settled with people. This is how it yalls story started.

A/N for future chapters: Bo is 17 and you're 16 and the story takes place in 1989, back then if you told a kid to go left, they'd go right. I asked my ma who was born in 1974 in a rural town questions before writing this and all I got to say is, back then things were very different. Kids underage did things they shouldn't have been doing but did it anyway. That being said I don't condone kids under the age of 18 doing anything that's mentioned below or in future chapters. This is fictional, not real life. I also plan to make this a series if people ask for it enough.

Warnings: 1989, Victor and Trudy Sinclair, Bo being Bo, Small harassment, Characters might be a little ooc.

Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner(s)!

You step over the small grate as you make your way to the front door of the gas station. A canister held firmly in your hand. Your fathers truck ran out of gas, so he sent you into town with $10 to fetch some for him. In return, he'd given you 5 more dollars to buy a treat for yourself at the gas station. It wasn't uncommon for kids your age to be running errands like this for your parents or anyone for that matter.

The door chimed as you entered. Led Zeppelin meets your ears as you spot a radio resting on the counter. You walk around a bit, looking over the selection of drinks and snacks. As you do, a brunette around your age it seemed, walked out of the back room holding a dirty rag. When it spots you, a small smirk appearing on his face.

"How can ah help ya little lady?" He wipes his hands clean with the rag before tossing it over his shoulder and going behind the counter. His eyes never leaving yours.

You raise the canister a little in your hand, "In need of some gas. Whatever $10 will get me." You place the canister on the counter, along with a drink you picked up from the cooler. "I'd also like to buy this please."

"We got plenty uh fuel, no problem'." He took the canister off the counter and walked to the back. After a couple minutes, he came back, setting the now full canister on the counter. As he rings up your drink, he try's making small talk. "Are ya headin' sumwhere in particular or yer uh local?"

"I live just outside of Ambrose, just never really had a reason to stop by here until now," You explain to the young man as you watch him ring you up. You give him a puzzled look when all he charges you for is the drink.

"I see." That wasn't interesting at all he thought. When he notices your confusion, his smirk grows bigger. "On thuh house since yer uh new face." His eyes wander over your figure before looking back up at your face. "Yer uh purdy little thang though," he looks you up and down once more, clicking his tongue in thought. "Ya got anybody waitin' for ya back home?" he asked with a teasing grin.

You bite the inside of your cheek, your grip tightening on the handle of the canister. "Just my parents. I best get back before my dad runs me a new one for wasting time," You explain as you give a polite smile. His face falls a little in disappointment before perking back up as if his demeanor hadn't changed.

"How often do ya thank you'll come back here again? Sure ya can't stay uh bit? It gets quite borin' here alone..." He leans his elbow on the counter, resting his chin in his hand. His eyes traveling up your body, lingering for a moment on the curve of your hip. He smirked teasingly, "Ah promise, you'd enjoy yerself."

You give a nervous laugh nodding your head to him before muttering a small goodbye and retreating out of the station with the canister and your drink held firmly in your hands. Bo watches your retreating form, smiling and shaking his head to himself as he lets out a small sigh. His eyes spot a couple of bills laying under a notepad, this causes him to smile softly at the cash. "Touché darlin'...."

A few days go by as you carry on with life. The small interaction at the gas station long forgotten. You walk down the street of Ambrose, a small list of errands your mother had tasked you to do for the day. As you read over the list, you hear someone call out, "Hey!" You look around for the voice, quickly spotting the guy from the gas station a few days prior sitting in an old Chevy k-30. He hops out of the truck and start jogging over to you. "Where ya goin', purdy girl?" He walked right infront of you, blocking your path.

Your faces show a little of puzzlement and amusement. You ignore his question, instead asking one of your own. "Aren't you that mechanic at the station?"

"The mechanic, yeah. Bo Sinclair." He nodded with a grin, his eyes moving up and down your body before they meet yours again. "...And you?" He asked, casually wrapping an arm around your waist. "Purdy girl like you gotta' hav' uh name." He asked playfully.

Your face heats up a little from the bold gesture, a nervous smile appearing on your face. "Why do you want to know my name?"

"Cuz ah just wanna make sure ah git' yer name right when I'm introducin' ya to mah ma as mah new girlfriend!" Bo said, that teasing smirk back on his face, he was clearly not backing down. "So? Whut shall ah tell mah ma when ya come back home with may fer dinner?" He said, the playful tone in his voice clear.

"Mhm....well, as interesting as it would be meeting your ma, I have errands to do, so I'll have to politely decline. But I'll generous with telling you my name since you gave me yours. It's (Name)." You explain as you move away from his grasp, making sure your list wasn't crumbled. You start walking again, leaving Bo to talk to himself for a second.

"Name," Bo said, tasting how it rolled off his tongue. "I like thet." He had a grin on his face, the sound of your name on his tongue felt oddly charming to him. "Ah promise mah ma ain't scary," he cuts himself off before adding "atleast not tuh guest's." He comes back to reality when he notices you walking away. He lets out a short huff in annoyance before calling out to you, "The more ya reject uh man, the more he wants ya!" Bo shouted, as if it was the truth, a smug grin plastered on his face. "It's gist the way it iz!" He shouted, shrugging before he continued with a teasing tone. "But ya gist keep playin' chur little game girl! Eventchly you'll give into me!" He shouted one final time before you turned a corner, a smirk still plastered on his face. "I know it..."

Tags: @ninakuli

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bijouxcarys · 6 months

Text

Honey Bee / Part One (1)

Pairing: Robert Plant x fem!reader x Jimmy Page x original female character

Summary: You've been on the road with Led Zeppelin for over two months now, acting as Robert's convenient little companion. It's now the final night of the tour, and tension has been rising. With the addition of Jimmy's new pretty young thing, you find yourself in a situation that just might take the cake for best night of your life...

Warnings: Heavy drug and alcohol use, a bit of heavy petting, slight objectification, degradation kink if you squint really hard, voyeurism

Word count: 2,756

***I've decided to split this into multiple parts since it would be really long if not, and I wanted to post something. Also, keep in mind that I have quite literally NEVER written Robert or Jimmy before. This is my first time, so go easy on me. I'm used to writing Brian May, who is very different lol***

Tags: @firethatgrewsolow @brownskinsugarplum76 @keepcalmandcarryfire @the-may-queer @callmethehunter @jimmypage7 @whothefuckisanja @laysidel-dekie @jimmys-zeppelin @m-faithfull @lemongrablothbrok @willem-dafuq @ri0thouse

He just looked so good.

But so did he.

And so did she.

Maybe it was the coke, well and truly infiltrating my system by this point. Or maybe it was a result of my third whiskey. I didn’t care. All she knew was that I’d never been this high, in multiple senses of the word, as I was that performance at Madison Square Garden back in 1973.

Apparently, they rarely, if ever, brought along a girl from a different country to another. And I held onto that feeling. Knowing that Robert Plant saw something in me that was worth bringing along over an ocean was enough to convince me that I had made the right decision to drop everything at home and take off with Led Zeppelin at the height of their success.

Honestly, I was well accustomed to the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle by this point. I’d had one or two encounters with smaller bands that toured within the UK by the time I was 17. But Zeppelin was a whole other ball game. An entirely different planet.

I didn’t care that this would one day end and that I’d go back to my dead job at a record shop. It couldn’t be too bad, right? I mean, if I hadn’t accepted that job in the first place, I would have never had the honour of being on this tour with the world’s greatest band at all.

Never underestimate a rockstar’s tendency to visit downtown music shops.

Robert and I had connected somewhat over our mutual interest in the blues. I slacked off my shift to take him to our storage space, just to let him rifle through the records we’d recently received. One thing led to another and I ended up accepting an open invitation to join him on tour.

19 and on the road with Led bloody Zeppelin.

It was their third and final night in New York, which also marked the last show of the tour. There was a subtle sense of anticipation that built throughout the whole tour, and it materialised progressively through the partying; the drinking, the drugs… the sex.

Everything seemed to get more and more intense every night. And, God, did that night take the win by a fleeting mile.

The fact that they had camera crews filming each move that night seemed to trigger something… feral… in the lads’ performance. I never got tired of watching Robert gyrate during Whole Lotta Love. The energy was potent. Like an intoxicating pheromone.

Usually by this point of the show, Robert would have already taken me somewhere backstage to get his fix–of both me and whatever he could get his hands on–during Moby Dick. But this time, I’d been given nothing but a small kiss and a cheeky smirk before he disappeared with Jimmy.

This left Lila and I dumbfounded.

Lila was a young girl who’d recently turned 18, and we met her the first night we were in New York. As per usual, she’d finessed her way backstage and caught Jimmy’s wandering gaze.

The air crackled with energy as Robert and Jimmy returned, wearing matching mischievous grins towards the end of Bonzo's solo. It was a sight suspicious even for those two.

I couldn't resist teasing Robert, smirking as I asked, "What are you up to?"

His dimple deepened, adding to his already endearing charm, even with a missing tooth. His hand caressed my head, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I have no clue what you're talking about, darlin'," he purred, leaning in closer. "Just a bit of light conversation."

"Light conversation?" I chuckled, playfully tugging him closer by his belt. "Why would you need that?"

"Don't you worry, sweet girl," he replied, shrouding his words in mystery. This deviation from Robert's usual character intrigued me, but before I could dwell on it, his lips were on mine, trapping me between his body and the wall.

As he pulled back, his lips brushing my nose, I noticed Jimmy and Lila in a similar position down the corridor.

Robert mumbled, "Don't look at them, darlin'," using his finger to redirect my gaze back to his face. His touch grazed my lower lip, gently tugging it down. "You'll have plenty of time to look at them later."

Before I could question his cryptic words, he winked and withdrew, exchanging a knowing smile with Jimmy before they headed back onstage.

The incident lingered at the edge of my consciousness for the rest of the show, and I sensed that Lila was in the same perplexed state. We exchanged subtle, intense looks, an unspoken desire to ask each other what was happening, yet neither of us dared to voice it.

But in the end, I just wanted the show to finish so Robert could drag me wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted to me. Watching him, those jeans clinging to him, the stage lights casting a shimmer over his exposed upper half, and his hair flawlessly bouncing with each thrust and jive, had me squeezing my thighs together from the side of the stage.

Being with the boys since the beginning of the tour gave me time to warm up to Jimmy as well as get to know Robert a little more. Jimmy was never on my radar of attraction, but something about the way he carried himself became more and more alluring. Ominous, almost.

Day by day, I became more and more interested in him.

That’s why, by the end of the last show, I didn’t know who to look at. Robert, Jimmy, and even Lila. It was like I’d just taken a hot oestrogen bath with Eros and Aphrodite.

If there was one thing I knew as clear as day, it was that I wanted them. All of them.

And that’s exactly what I ended up getting.

Within an hour, the customary Zeppelin afterparty was in full swing, taking over the entire ground floor of The Drake and spilling onto multiple floors, transforming the hotel into their own personal playground. The trademark mayhem ensued, marked by bleary-eyed revellers and a steady flow of alcohol that left nostrils white and throats raw from the endless libations.

The air was heavy with the scent of cigarette smoke and spilled liquor, punctuated by the echoing laughter and slurred conversational cheering of everyone in attendance. The room seemed to sway slightly, the dim hotel lighting dancing off the walls in a hazy, dreamlike aura. Amidst the chaos, I found myself settled on Robert’s lap on a worn, plush sofa, my limbs weightless.

Robert’s features softened under the influence, and he wore a lopsided grin as he leaned back against the cushions, hands sliding up my legs, one on each side of his hips. His eyes, glazed and partially unfocused, held a distant, dreamy look as he gazed out at the revelry around us. I traced my fingertips along the collar of his blouse, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath the silky fabric.

Beside us, Jimmy and Lila were enveloped in their own intimate world. She exuded an irresistible allure as her dark, cascading hair spilled over the arm of the sofa. Her head, delicately poised on the cushiony surface, seemed to radiate nothing but pure admiration for the guitarist looming over her.

Draped over Jimmy’s lap, her supple body was a study in effortless grace, her bronzed skin glowing in the soft, amber light. Her slender, bare legs extended languorously along the expanse of the sofa. The subtle arch of her foot, adorned with a pair of sleek, platform heels, found a resting place on my thigh, the faint pressure a tangible reminder of her presence. One glance, and you could see right up her flowy mini skirt.

“What are you so smiley about?” I asked Robert with a hum, eyelids hooding as I made the cautious decision to shift my hips against his. The steady grip he had on the backs of my knees rose to the bare space between my knee-high socks and corduroy skirt, fingers gripping onto the flesh of my thighs.

“Hmm… you keep lookin’,” he remarked, his gaze momentarily flickering to Lila’s legs before returning to meet my eyes.

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, feeling my cheeks flush with warmth. “No, I don’t,” I protested weakly, attempting to convince him that I wasn’t doing anything of the sort.

His hands gently framed my face, drawing me down closer to him. “No, no, darlin’, you do,” he insisted, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “And that’s okay!” he added, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “In fact, it’s rather preferable.”

He kept his eyes trained on me as one hand guided my head to turn in the direction of Jimmy and Lila. “She is gorgeous, isn’t she, love?” Robert hummed into my ear. Before I could answer, his free hand slid under my skirt, his long fingers teasing my underwear. My breath hitched in my throat, managing to feast my eyes on Lila’s legs freely.

With a bite of my lips, I found myself grinding into Robert’s hand. We both watched with intent as Jimmy’s hand lowered to find comfort under Lila’s skirt. Her girlish giggle cut through the air, making Jimmy chuckle and shift his gaze down to where his hand was.

He caught our eyes, sending us a smirk, his eyes glazed over and face somewhat flushed. Lila was none the wiser as we observed the guitarist’s petting.

That was when Peter decided it would be a good idea to document the completion of yet another successful tour. Successful if you forget the money that had been nicked the day before, but this was a nice respite from that unfortunate incident.

A rather large video camera nestled on his shoulder, Peter sidled over to us, letting out a rambunctious cheer.

“Ayy! Percy and Pagey enjoying the victorious ending to a triumphant tour!” His speech was erratic, loud, and jumbled. But then again, so was everyone’s.

Lila craned her head back to peer up at Peter and his camera, giggling yet again.

“Nothin’ better than a couple of beautiful birds after a show, eh?” He came closer, switching the focus from me and Robert, to Jimmy and Lila, and then back again. “Look at these two cunts stealing away all the totty.”

“It’s the charisma,” Robert chimed, sending a swift middle finger to the camera.

“Is that so?” Jimmy jested from the side, earning a smack on the arm from Robert.

“Don’t be shy, doll, give us a smile!” Peter put the camera right by my face, where I confidently and playfully stuck out my tongue. “Ooh, she likes to put on a bit of a show, Perce.”

I barely registered that Robert's fingers had found their way inside my underwear, massaging diligently at my soaked arousal, but a gentle prod of his middle finger against my clit caused me to jump a little and a small squeak to fall from my lips. Robert let out a boastful laugh, his free hand pushing some of his hair out of his face.

“Ey, I’m not the one kicking my legs about so everyone can see my pants,” I retaliated in the haze of cocaine, pointing in Lila’s direction.

“Not like you haven’t been enjoying the view, Y/N,” Lila purred, lifting a leg up enthusiastically.

“Ayyyy!” Peter cheered, angling the camera just enough to catch Lila’s actions for the brief moment that she did it. “I’m gonna do my rounds, make sure I get everyone, and I’ll be back here in a few.”

I grinned down at Robert as Peter left, looking down at his hand between us.

“I’m not an expert, but something tells me that you quite like the prying eyes of others, darlin’,” Robert said, keeping up with the movements of his fingers.

“Hmm, and what if I do?” I prodded, tilting my head to the side.

I didn’t get a response, only a hand in my hair and a swift pull downwards, my lips crashing against Robert’s wantonly. I basked in the feeling, my hips grinding down yet again as his tongue rolled expertly into my mouth.

Letting out a moan against his lips, I felt a light stroke on my leg that wasn’t from Robert. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Jimmy’s extended arm, his hand resting around Lila’s ankle and his fingers resting just above my socks. Smirking against Robert’s lips, I held onto his shoulders, deepening our kiss.

“D’ya want some more, darlin’?” Robert murmured, reaching down to retrieve the clear plastic bag from his pocket, the same one he had revealed earlier that night.

My response was a whispered, “Yes, accompanied by a mischievous smile.

He gently guided me off his lap, positioning me on the floor between him and the coffee table. With my back to him, I watched as he leaned over to empty the remaining contents of the bag onto the hand mirror that laid on the table, drawing the attention of those around us.

“Lila?” Robert called, turning his attention to the almond-eyed beauty. Her gaze met his, and her eyes lit up in response to his gesture, followed by a nod of acknowledgement. It didn’t take long for Lila to settle in beside me, with Jimmy sitting upright behind her.

“There you go, my sweet little honey bee,” Robert hummed into my ear, his lips pressing a tender kiss to the side of my neck.

Lila’s delicate fingers trailed over the powdered surface, deftly rearranging the lines into perfect, symmetrical rows. She glanced up at me with a secretive smile, her dark eyes glinting with a shared understanding. The faint scent of her perfume, a delicate blend of jasmine and musk, mingled with the heady aroma of the night.

With the two rockstars sitting protectively behind us, Lila and I leaned forward, each of us inhaling two lines with practised ease. A subtle thrill coursed through me as my back arched instinctively, responding to the tantalising touch of Robert’s hand settling on my hip, his thumb daring to explore closer to where desire truly lingered.

“We’ve certainly struck gold, haven’t we, Perce?” Jimmy’s voice drifted over, undoubtedly revelling in the captivating sight before him.

As Lila and I continued with our indulgence, the sounds of cheering and hollering filled the air around us, the realisation dawning upon us that we indeed had an audience.

And I relished every moment of it.

Still bent over, I looked over my shoulder, catching Jimmy’s lingering gaze. Our eyes met for a moment, and we sent each other a suggestive smirk before I pulled myself up to lean back against Robert.

“Did you enjoy that, darlin’?” he asked with a knowing grin as I raised my arms behind me to rest them on his shoulders. His fingers trailed up my sides, his touch igniting a fire under the thin material of my skin-tight, long-sleeved top. “You think you could do me the honour and let me have some, too?” he asked again with a playful flare.

“Mhm,” I nodded with a hazy smile. But just as I was about to move out of his way, he stopped me.

“No. Stay,” he gently commanded. Smiling smugly down at my confused face, he grabbed a spoon from the table and scooped up some of the white powder, bringing it closer to me. “Head all the way back, sweetheart.” With a deep breath, I leaned backwards, finding myself half-laying across one of Robert’s thighs. “That’s a good girl…”

I gnawed my lip as I felt the cold edge of the spoon under my neck and across my exposed skin. It was difficult to stay in this pose, especially with Lila's hand on my leg. I was beginning to feel the effects of the fervent stares of the crowd, followed by Peter Grant's roaring laughter.

My eyes fluttered shut as Robert lowered his head and inhaled the cocaine straight off of my skin. He dragged his tongue along the residual powder, accompanying his actions with heated, open-mouthed kisses which he swiftly punctuated with a kiss to my lips.

Boisterous cheering and clapping erupted as Jimmy repeated the action on Lila, the intimacy of the moment intoxicating the four of us. With Robert’s hand on my neck, he continued to kiss me in front of the whole room.

“You ready to put on a proper show for the camera, sweetheart?”

#70s #1973 #led zeppelin #led zeppelin fanfictoin #robert plant #jimmy page #robert plant fanfiction #jimmy page fanfiction #classic rock #classic rock fanfiction #fanfiction #zeppelin

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marimayscarlett · 2 months

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Him or him? 😈

WHY. WOULD YOU DO THI- i need a moment

No, all jokes aside, it will ALWAYS be Richard. Always. I am very set when it comes to my favourite and while I adore Jimmy Page (Led Zeppelin) to bits and have a special (warm and cozy since he deserves nothing less) corner in my heart reserved for Michael Jackson, both will never reach the level of love and admiration I have for Richard.

Not to sound cheesy, but this man is everything for me (he's so enthusiastic, interesting, so creative and driven by his love for music and just a warmhearted individual), I fell in love with him almost 10 years ago and he has that number one spot since back then 🙏🏼

Now, actor-wise. That's a little different since actors for me have kind of a subordinate position after musicians (since I kind of have the feeling I can 'fangirl' about music even more than about movies/shows/actors), yet I am a big movie fan since I grew up in a very movie-enthusiastic household.

I had my customary teen-crush on Keanu Reeves, had my little Christian Bale-craze and fell head over heels for Joaquin Phoenix but none of these were so mindbogglingly intense (!) like my enthusiasm for Richard or Rammstein. Now those guys are just there, chilling in my 'favourite actors'-file.

With Hugo it's just. A little different. I've known him for half my life, 'The Matrix' is my favourite movie ever, and just now I'm kind of realising how perfect he is for me (since I was so scared of him when I was a teen). He's so versatile and talented, much more than a lot of actors I 'swooned over' before, he has such a great voice and is overall so approachable and down to earth, and such an interesting individual. It's like looking at a long term acquaintance and realising how they accompanied you through life and how much you actually love them 😌

And on another note: As a Rammstein fan for almost 10 years, I've seen and read some shit/dumb articles/stuff from people who don't understand the band and want to make this everyone's problem. Not only in the last year. Being fan of this band can sometimes be challenging, especially for someone with some anxiety issues, plus Richard is sometimes so unhinged and a lot to take in (you know what I mean), so a little voice in my head tells me it's nice to have an unproblematic side-obsession, and that's Hugo for me 😅

#...i wrote a fucking character study about my self on tumblr.com didn't i #fucking hell #can't shut up for the life of me #so while i'm at it and since i say anything on this hell site:#richard is like my flamboyant guitar husband who sweeps me off my feet and hugo is my calming dilf #i have no filter whatsoever this evening. great #ask #melanie viel SPASS mit mir morgen wenn ich dir den Abend über die Ohren wegen Matrix vollheule 👍🏼 tja jetzt haste mich an der backe #rammstein #richard kruspe #hugo weaving #maria rambles

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 9 months

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kappa and reader while on their roadtrip decide to go out on a cutsie date they end up in some bar there’s live music great atmosphere they get p drunk & things escalate as they get back to their van 🤭…

Someone send help, I want him so bad 😩😩

Fairy Lights

Summary: Just a silly, little drabble about van life with Kappa 😌🌻

Pairing: Kappa x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Content Warnings: Soft Horny Hippie Smut 18+!, Unprotected P In V, Oral (F Receiving), Fingering, Cum Eating, Mentions About Alcohol And Being Drunk, Kappa's Dirty Talk, Breeding, Possible Impreg

A/N: We are gradually working towards Dad!Kappa and I see absolutely nothing wrong with that 🥴

Tagging the horny horde:

Let me take you to the movies

Can I take you to the show?

Let me be yours ever truly

Can I make your garden grow?

- Houses Of The Holy By Led Zeppelin

"Fuck!", You sighed while hastily wiggling your ass out of your lacey slip, "The guitarist did a damn good job, no?"

"Maybe, but I don't give a wet fart about that right now!" Kappa huffed as he shimmied himself out of his pants equally clumsy, his already rock-hard, eager cock thudding against his lower abdomen.

With a wide grin playing around his lips, he looked at you, his pupils blown wide in desire and adoration as he propped your thighs on his shoulders before thrusting himself into you as far as he possibly could.

"Good lord, Kappa!", You exhaled sharply, your head lolling back deep into a tie-dye patterned pillow, "You fuck like a madman when your drunk!"

"All I hear is you saying that I don't fuck you just right when I'm sober, honey." Kappa quipped right back, the palms of his hands snaking themselves around your thighs to pull you impossibly close to him.

"That's not..ugh, fuck.." You heard your trembling voice flailing as he started rolling his hips against your lap, rendering your mind blank with each jut.

"That's not what?" He teased with a mischievous grin spreading all over his face whilst the tip of his nose lovingly caressed yours.

You smelled the alcohol in his breath, the countless cheap beers and whisky shots both of you had oh so eagerly chugged down at the bar. In a feverish shot of sudden worry, you gasped at your man.

"Shit, fuck…what if anybody sees us?" Your brain abruptly recalled the fact that the two of you were fucking in a goddamn parking lot.

"We're in the van, sugar.", Kappa cooed into your ear from above, "The car might be shakin' a lil' but that's all, don't worry."

He pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple while thrusting into you, his girth stretching you out just the way you liked it.

"You sure?" You couldn't quite let it go just now.

"Just shut up and let me make you feel good, been thinking about that all night long.", He groaned against the shell of your ear, effectively sending a wave of goosebumps down your back, "Nothing on my mind but you since you started dancing, practically eye-fucking me while twirling that dress of yours."

" 'N I thought we were having a cute date night out, babe.", You giggled out of breath, turning your head to catch his mouth, teasingly biting down on his bottom lip, "All while you were just thinking 'bout filling me up, huh?"

"Uh-Huh.." It rolled over his tongue in a low moan, his face following the gentle tug of your teeth as your shaking fingers wrapped around his forearms, holding on to him, "Been thinking about knocking you up lately. How'd 'u like that, hm?"

Just the mere thought of it had your throbbing cunt clenching down around his cock, pulling him deeper into you.

"Oh, okay…", Kappa huffed in surprise, picking up his pace and practically ramming himself into you without holding back, "Getting you all worked up, no? Wanna be a momma so bad?"

"A little mini-us… a ranch, big garden and all, maybe?" You rambled out in between raggedy breaths, feeling your body buzzing with the mixture of intoxication and an oncoming orgasm.

"Shit, fuck…that sound so good, babe.", His hips progressively faltered in their rhythm, "Gon' fill you all up, sugar."

It took but a few more thrusts, his balls slapping against your ass, before he spearheaded deep into you for one last time, his cock pulsing and pumping out hot ribbons of his seed.

"Hmhmm…don't stop, please, boutta cum, too!" You whined as you felt him stopping, moans and filthy curses cascading out of his mouth as his climax washed through him.

"Fuck, sorry, lemme fix that, sunshine." Kappa groaned, reluctantly pulling out of you but leaving your twitching legs right on top of his shoulders as his head wandered down amidst your quivering thighs.

He wasted absolutely no second thought about parting your cum and slick soaked folds with his tongue, directly aiming for your needy clit while his release trickled out of you.

"Taste so good.." He hummed into your cunt, sending a tide of pleasure through your body, your nerves starting to tingle and buzz again.

"Have ta make sure all that stays nice 'n put…" Kappas low tone vibrated through you as two of his fingers pushed into you, gently fucking his cum back into you.

Just that sent you right over the edge, your walls clenching and pulling all around his fingers as you involuntarily wiggled your ass over the mattress in orgasmic convulsions, practically riding your climax out on his tongue that was flat against your throbbing clit.

"There you go, sugar." You heard his shit-eating grin before you even saw it as he slipped your legs from his shoulder, his face rising back up to yours again.

With a content humm, Kappa let himself slump down next to you, cradling your form in his arms while reaching out to the side to fish for a halfway full cup of tea from way earlier in the day.

"Drink up, love, don't wanna deal with a hangover later, no?" He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his sweaty skin glowing in a post-orgasmic shine and the soft hue of the tiny fairy lights stuck to the ceiling of the van.

"Even if…'m just gonna pout at you until you fuck the hangover out of me, hm?"

#tam rambles #asks are appreciated #asks are always open #rory culkin #kappa #kappa black mirror #kappa x you #kappa x reader #kappa x fem!reader #kappa smut

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