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blueskrugs · 5 months

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Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under | Nico Hischier

no thoughts, just vibes and fuck boy nico I'm considering this my honorary entry into demi @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange because I didn't trust myself to finish an actual entry in time but managed anyway (technically, this took me 10 months to finish) enjoy! length: 5.6k words

It’s dark in the club where Nico Hischier presses himself along Hailey’s back for the first time. She lets it happen, barely one drink in and looking for a good time. It’s dark, lit up by the glow of neon, when the man leans close and asks if he can buy Hailey a drink, hands on her hips as they continue to dance. She doesn’t realize who he is then, but he’s a decent dancer. It doesn’t seem important at the moment.

It’s dark as they stumble outside a few drinks and a few kisses later, a car already called and waiting for them at the curb. Hailey doesn’t remember when she caught his name, in between kisses pressed to her bare shoulders, her neck, but she knows he’s Nico now, soft-spoken with an accent Hailey can’t place.

“I don’t usually do this,” Hailey admits as she slides into the backseat. Nico doesn’t say anything as he slides in next to her, but he keeps his hand on Hailey’s thigh the whole drive back to his place.

It’s dark in Nico’s apartment, too, only a few lights left on before he went out for the night. It doesn’t matter much, anyway. They don’t stop in the kitchen, or the living room. It’s only the middle of October, and there are no outer layers to shed as they stumble down the hallway, though Hailey shivers every time Nico’s hands brush her bare skin.

“I didn’t catch your name earlier,” he says, breaking the kiss.

“Hailey,” she gasps. She shivers again as his stubble scratches against her skin.

“Hailey, I like that,” he says. Hailey refrains from rolling her eyes. Barely. Her name does sound nice in his accent, she admits to herself.

Neither of them are drunk, not really, but the room seems blurry around the edges as Nico presses her into his sheets.

An alarm is blaring, too loud, too early. Hailey groans and shoves her face into her pillow before reaching to slap at her phone to snooze that awful alarm. Her phone isn’t on the nightstand beside her where it should be, and Hailey starts to sit up, confused. It’s not until she hears someone swear softly, in a language she doesn’t recognize, that she remembers she’s not in her own bed. She bolts upright.

Nico’s sitting up beside her, shirtless and his hair a disaster. Hailey doesn’t fully remember how she ended up sleeping in one of Nico’s T-shirts, but she’s thankful for it now, though she still pulls the sheet up across her chest as she sits up next to Nico. For his part, he looks apologetic for the rude awakening.

Nico swears again. “I’m sorry, I forgot I have—work this morning.”

“What kind of job do you have that makes you work at—” Hailey squints at the digital clock on Nico’s side of the bed. “9 on a Saturday morning?”

Nico doesn’t answer, but he shoots Hailey a rueful smile as he rolls out of bed.

Hailey vaguely remembers being offered a washcloth to wipe off her makeup and generally clean up with, but she still feels crusty. Her eyes itch from sleeping with her contacts in. She heaves a sigh and throws back the sheets to get out of bed. She finds her clothes strewn about the room and reluctantly pulls them back on. Her phone landed somewhere on the floor, too, and she picks it up. Almost dead.

Hailey manages to call an Uber and scrape her hair into a ponytail before Nico re-emerges from his bathroom. She’s already lingered too long. This isn’t the type of hookup where they sit and have coffee over breakfast. Hailey shouldn’t have even stayed the night.

“I should—” Hailey starts, as Nico says, “I can walk you out.” “Oh, uh, sure,” she says.

Now that she thinks about it, she doesn’t quite remember all the steps and turns they took last night to get to Nico’s apartment. So she follows Nico back through his apartment, out the front door, down the hallway to the elevators. They stand in awkward silence.

“My Uber should be here soon,” Hailey offers. She shifts nervously.

“Good, that’s great,” Nico says.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. There’s already someone on, a boy probably around their age. Hailey starts to step forward, but Nico grabs her by the elbow.

“We can wait for the next one,” he says firmly. Hailey looks back at the boy on the elevator as the doors begin to shut. He raises his eyebrows at them, and Hailey thinks she hears him laugh as the elevator starts to descend again. Nico jams the down button again.

“Did you know him?” Hailey asks.

“He’s, uh, a friend.” Nico says. Hailey raises an eyebrow at him. “You don’t need to meet him, I promise.”

Hailey isn’t about to argue. This walk of shame is already bad enough.

Nico walks Hailey all the way out the front door of his apartment building. Hailey’s Uber is idling at the curb, and they go their separate ways. Hailey doesn’t look back as she slides into the backseat of her car; she’s not expecting to ever see Nico again.

There’s a phone charger plugged in the backseat of the car, and Hailey plugs her phone in gratefully. She swipes through her missed notifications quickly until one catches her eye from ESPN: Nico Hischier scores goal, assist in Devils win.

Oh, fuck.

Hailey puts it out of her mind. Or tries to, at least. She doesn’t actually follow the Devils that closely—she only has the ESPN app on her phone at all to keep up in conversation with the boys in her family about the Giants. Besides, she doesn’t exactly frequent any of the bars in Jersey. She should forget about Nico—his accent when he whispered her name, the way his bracelets brushed her skin when he touched her. He’d probably forgotten about her, by now, anyway.

It’s a few months before Hailey runs into Nico again, at another bar. He spots her first, at a table with her friends. Hailey doesn’t notice him at first, not until one of her friends nudges her with her beer bottle.

“Who’s the guy over there that can’t stop staring at you?” Beth asks.

Hailey follows her gaze across the bar, to a rowdy group of guys she’d been trying to ignore all night. She doesn’t spot who Beth is asking about at first, but then she catches the eye of one of them. She wishes she could hide, but she knows Nico’s already seen her. Has been watching her.

“Shit,” Hailey says. “I hooked up with him once, like in October.”

It’s December now. There was another time, a few weeks after that first hookup—and only hookup, if Hailey has anything to say about it—that she’d run into Nico again in another dark bar, where he’d bought her another few drinks. They didn’t even make it out of the bar that time, though; Nico had dragged Hailey into a corner and pinned her against the wall, behind an empty booth to make out.

Nico had torn away from the kiss to press a line of kisses down Hailey’s neck. His stubble burned Hailey’s skin as he went.

“Hannah,” Nico had murmured, so quiet Hailey wasn’t even sure she’d heard him at first, but then he said it again. “Hannah, you wanna get out of here?” Hailey had shoved at Nico’s shoulders so hard he’d stumbled backwards, looking confused. There had been a moment before Nico’s face had cleared in realization. “Shit, Hailey, I—”

“Get your own fucking ride home,” she had spit, storming through the crowded bar and out the front door without looking back.

She’s been trying to forget that night since then. She wonders if Nico’s forgotten it, too.

Hailey knows Nico spent a lot of the time in between October and now out with an injury. She refuses to examine exactly why she knows that as someone who “really doesn’t watch hockey” too closely right now.

Several of her friends raise their eyebrows at her.

“What, he was hot, sue me,” Hailey says. It doesn’t quell the looks she’s getting. She drains the last of her drink. She glances back at Nico. He’s gotten roped back into whatever conversation is happening with his friends—his teammates, probably, Hailey realizes belatedly—so it might be safe to venture over to the bar and get another.

Hailey is leaning on the bar, waiting for the bartender, when she feels someone come up behind her. The bartender looks their way.

“Her next one is on me,” a familiar voice says. Hailey glances over her shoulder for the first time. Nico is there, close enough that Hailey can feel his body heat. "Hailey," he says. He leans even closer. “Haven’t seen you around.”

Hailey ignores him for a moment to turn back to the bartender with her order. Tries to collect herself.

“Didn’t realize you were looking,” she says.

Nico grins at her, a little crookedly. “I’ve been—”

“Busy,” Hailey finishes. With hockey, with other girls, she doesn’t add. She thinks Nico gets it anyway.

The bartender slides Hailey her drink. She turns around, but Nico doesn’t step back.

“Listen,” Nico starts. Hailey looks over his shoulder, towards the group of guys he was with before. A few of them are already looking in their direction. Hailey meets Nico’s eyes again. “How about—” Hailey cuts him off. “No, you listen,” she says. “I’m here with my friends, you’re out with yours. I’m not looking for anything tonight, Nico, and I don’t think you should be abandoning your friends to leave with me.”

“Eh, they’d be fine without me,” Nico defends mildly, but he takes a step back, unpinning Hailey from the bar. “Next time?” he asks.

Hailey hopes there isn’t another next time. “Don’t get your hopes up,” she says. She doesn’t wait to hear if he answers, just brushes past him on her way back to her friends.

Hailey’s friends don’t try to hide the fact that they’d been watching the whole exchange. Hailey slides back into her seat next to Beth.

“We can never come back to this bar,” she says.

The next time Hailey runs into Nico Hischier isn’t at a bar at all.

Hailey’s walking out to her car after a rec league softball game when she hears someone call her name—an accent she wishes wasn’t so familiar echoing across the half-empty parking lot. Hailey turns towards the voice—Nico’s voice—as she tugs the elastic out of the end of her braid, shaking out her sweaty hair. Nico’s jogging across the parking lot towards Hailey.

“Hailey, hey,” he says as he gets closer.

“Are you stalking me now, Hischier?” Hailey asks.

“You played well out there tonight,” Nico says earnestly, completely ignoring Hailey’s question.

Hailey shrugs. It’s a competitive league, but at the end of the day it’s still a recreational league for a bunch of washed up college athletes. Hits and stolen bases don’t really matter anymore.

“How’d you know I would be here?” Hailey asks.

“Uh, I didn’t,” Nico says quickly. “Your organization, they partner with Eric LeGrand for charity stuff, and the Devils worked with LeGrand a few seasons back, and I stopped in for coffee today after practice, and he mentioned something about the rec sports—” Nico’s rambling, and Hailey realizes he’s nervous. Nico continues. “I was bored and had the night off when I looked it up I saw a game tonight and—”

Hailey takes pity on him and cuts him off. “And then you got here and saw me playing.”

“Yeah,” Nico says lamely. He seems to recover from his awkwardness and grins at Hailey, flashing his dimples. “Are you doing anything else tonight?” he asks.

Hailey regards her own dirty pants, her janky Crocs. She probably smeared her eye black with sweat, too. Not exactly the picture of beauty. “Do those dimples usually work for you?” she asks instead of voicing any of those thoughts.

Nico takes a step closer to Hailey. The strap of her gear bag is digging into her shoulder, and she steps back under the guise of shifting it to her other shoulder.

“I seem to remember them working on you before,” Nico says.

They’re working on Hailey this time, too, but she’s not willing to admit that right now. “I’ve got work in the morning, and I’m sure you do, too.”

Nico shrugs. Doesn’t say anything else, just looks at Hailey with his eyebrows raised.

Hailey gives in. “Fine.” She tries to ignore Nico’s triumphant smile. “But we’re going to mine.”

It’s Nico’s turn for the walk of shame this time. If he’s even capable of being shamed, that is.

Nico looks like he might argue, but he says, “Okay. But you’re going to have to give me your address first. Y’know, so I don’t get lost.” He holds out his hand expectantly, waiting for Hailey to give him her phone. There was a reason they never exchanged phone numbers the first time they hooked up. There was also a reason why there was never supposed to be a second hook-up. Hailey disregards both of those reasons as she unlocks her phone and passes it to Nico.

Somehow, Nico beats Hailey back to her apartment complex. He’s leaning against the driver’s door of his car, face lit up by the glow of his phone screen, but he locks it and shoves it in his pocket when she pulls into the spot next to him and climbs out of her car.

“Here, let me,” Nico says, trying to reach for Hailey’s softball bag.

Hailey shoots him a look and shifts her bag to her other shoulder, away from Nico. “I think I can handle it, thanks.”

Nico huffs but follows Hailey the rest of the way up to her unit in silence.

Hailey’s apartment isn’t as swanky as Nico’s—or as clean, Hailey thinks absently, as she dumps her bag—but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Do you need a Gatorade or something?” Nico asks.

He looks out of place in Hailey’s little apartment, with her hand-me-down couch and Facebook Marketplace kitchen table. Hailey can’t help but laugh.

“Are you this nice to all of your hook-ups?” she asks.

Nico shrugs, looking a little put out. “I mean, I guess?”

Hailey laughs a little again. “It’s cute, you’re cute.”

Nico scoffs. “Cute?” He takes a step closer to Hailey, close enough to slide his hands around her hips. “Just cute?”

Hailey pretends to think about it, but Nico is kissing her before she can respond.

Hailey knows that something has shifted before Nico rolls off of her, before she slips out of bed to take a shower. Nico’s still wrapped up in her sheets when she emerges thirty minutes later, shirtless and scrolling through his phone again. Hailey pauses at the end of her bed.

“Don’t you have to be up early in the morning?” she asks. Hailey has work, too, but she expected Nico to ditch her while she was in the shower. Instead, he stretches lazily, dropping his phone to his chest. “Mmm, probably,” he says. He shows no signs of getting up any time soon. Hailey gives up and slides back into bed beside him.

“Probably?” Hailey echoes.

She resists the urge to poke at his ribs, exposed with one of his arms carelessly stretched over his head, or to trace his collarbone until she reaches the crucifix on his chain, tug on it until he comes over and kisses her again. There’s a tattoo on his arm, bold, black looping lines that cover most of the inside of his left bicep. Hailey gives in and reaches out to trace them with her fingertip. Nico twitches but doesn’t pull his arm away.

Nico goes on. “We have film review in the morning, but skate’s optional.” He trails off.

“Which means…?” Hailey prods.

Nico does roll over, then, bracing himself on his hands above Hailey. She tilts her chin to meet Nico's eyes. He smirks at her.

“It means I don’t have to be ready to go work out, and I’ll still have time for a nap before our game tomorrow night. I don’t have to rush out of here.”

Hailey fumbles for her phone in the sheets and glances at the time. It’s creeping towards midnight. She stalls, scrolling around until she finds her morning alarm for work. The one where she can be a little lazy with her morning routine and still make it out the door on time. She tosses her phone aside.

Nico’s watching her carefully, brown eyes somewhere between serious and teasing.

“Well, some of us have to work normal jobs in the morning.”

“What, it’s not like you need any beauty sleep,” Nico says. He leans in for a kiss, and Hailey tilts her chin up again to let him. The kiss nearly gets away from her before she remembers she’s supposed to be awake again in six hours. She pulls away, albeit reluctantly.

“I don’t think I have any NHL approved breakfast foods in my fridge for you,” Hailey says carefully. An offer to stay and an excuse for Nico to leave all in one. “Just a bunch of frozen waffles and frozen breakfast sandwiches.”

Nico shrugs. “There’s always breakfast at the rink.”

Hailey scoffs. “Must be such a difficult life, being a professional athlete.”

Nico doesn’t retort, though he does roll his eyes and kiss Hailey quiet. She grabs at his bicep, presses her thumb into the tattoo there. Hailey turns her head.

“What is this?” she asks. Her finger follows one of the lines again.

“A tattoo,” Nico says. He brushes his hand over Hailey’s ribs, her hip, where she has tattoos of her own. She shivers. “I know you’ve seen them before.” At Hailey’s flat look, he smiles. “They’re the zodiac signs of me and my family,” he says.

“That’s really sweet,” Hailey tells him. It's surprising, somehow, but Hailey guesses she hardly knows Nico at all.

Nico grins at her again, flashing those damn dimples. Hailey has to kiss him about it, feeling desperate with it, like she might never get to do it again. Nico gentles her, a hand on Hailey's jaw. They kiss, slow and lazy, until Hailey yawns into Nico’s mouth. He pulls away with a chuckle.

“I should let you get some sleep,” he says. He rolls off Hailey again. He picks up his phone and checks the time, grimaces. “Do you know how far you live from Prudential Center, by any chance?”

Hailey doesn’t think she’s ever seen the Devils play in person. “Grew up a Rangers fan,” she murmurs, already halfway to sleep.

Nico slides out of bed, starts searching for his clothes. Hailey thinks she dreams him brushing a kiss across her forehead as he slips out of her room.

It’s a few weeks later, and Hailey and Nico are walking out of his apartment on a rainy Saturday morning. The elevator dings just as Nico swears and pats down his pockets.

“I forgot my phone,” he says. He glances at the elevator. “I’ll, uh, meet you downstairs,” he tells Hailey. He looks back at the elevator, and says, to the guy holding the door for Hailey and looking amused, “Play nice.” Nico retreats back down the hall, and Hailey steps onto the elevator, bemused.

The guy in the elevator speaks up first. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hisch repeat before.”

Hailey feels her cheeks burn. Nico had texted last night, early enough that Hailey wasn’t in bed, late enough that she was under no illusions about his intentions. And yet, she dragged herself off of her couch and into slightly-more-respectable pants, all the way to Nico’s apartment in Jersey City.

Hailey realizes something. “You were the one we saw on the elevator that one time.”

The boy grins at her and sticks out a hand. “Jack,” he says. “I mean it, though,” he continues, “must be pretty special to get Hisch to come back for seconds.”

They’ve reached the ground floor, and the elevator doors slide open. “Thirds,” she says without thinking. Four times, actually, if you count that time Hailey rejected Nico in the bar. Five times, if you count the one where Nico called Hailey the wrong name.

Jack whistles. “Our boy must be down bad.” Hailey laughs. “It’s definitely not like that—” She’s interrupted by—saved by? —Nico appearing out of the emergency stairwell nearby. She shuts her mouth and hopes her face isn’t still too red.

Nico looks between Jack and Hailey suspiciously. “What’d you say to her?” he asks Jack.

Jack laughs awkwardly. “Nothing, nothing, Nico, c’mon.”

Nico continues to regard them warily. “Jack—” Nico starts, but he, too, is interrupted by a fourth person joining their little conversational triangle.

“You two are going to make us late, and Lindy’ll—oh.” The new boy stops when he notices Hailey standing between Jack and Nico. The look on his face turns sly. “Sorry, Hisch, didn’t realize you were doing something.” Jack makes a noise of protest. “Hey, how do you know she didn’t sleep with me?” he asks. “Dude, I live with you, of course I know you didn’t bring a girl home—” They walk away, still arguing.

Hailey blinks after them, confused.

“That was Luke, Jack’s little brother,” Nico supplies, watching them head towards the front door of their building. “I’m sorry on their behalf.” Nico checks the time on his phone and grimaces. “Luke was right, though, we really are going to be late.” They start walking towards the front door, where Luke and Jack are impatiently waiting. Nico presses a quick kiss to Hailey’s cheek as they part ways.

Jack’s words from the elevator rattle around Hailey’s head as she walks to her car, as she drives home. Our boy must be down bad. Is that what this had become? Hailey didn’t know the last time she’d had a hookup stick around and make her breakfast in the morning—even if he had somehow managed to burn the toast—let alone keep coming back for more. When Hailey parks in front of her building, she has a Venmo notification—from Nico: for coffee x. There’s a coffee emoji, too, because Nico’s a dork like that. Hailey smiles down at her phone; they’d been lazy about getting out of bed, until Nico was rushing out the door, and they had to leave their coffees to go cold, mostly untouched.

Hailey’s cheek burns again with the phantom sensation of Nico’s lips, the ghost of his kiss goodbye.

It’s a few days before Hailey sees Nico again. On another night off for the Devils, Nico appears at Hailey’s door with a heads-up “On my way. :)” text and takeout. He kisses Hailey hello, a chaste peck as he steps through her doorway.

“What’s all this for?” Hailey asks, watching as Nico dumps several bags of food on her little kitchen table. She trails after him, curious. “Smells good,” she adds.

Nico grins at her as he starts unpacking the bags. “Wanted to see you,” he says, like it’s simple, like hanging out is just a thing that they do. He goes on, “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got a little of everything.”

Everything indeed, Hailey thinks, surveying her table—it looks like Italian, sandwiches and salads and pastas and what could be arancini. She picks up one of the discarded bags and reads the restaurant’s name.

“Hey, I’ve been wanting to try this place.” It’s just a few blocks away from her apartment. “Always felt too pathetic to order takeout for one,” she says.

Nico chuckles. “Well, I guess I helped you out then.” He grins up at Hailey, who’s still standing beside the table. “C’mon, sit, we’ve got a lot to eat.”

Hailey sits obediently, across from Nico. Nico had managed to find Hailey’s plates, as well, and Hailey begins to fill hers with a little of everything.

“How much of all of this,” Hailey gestures broadly at her overflowing table, “is on an NHL player’s diet plan?” she asks.

Nico looks sheepishly down at his own full plate. “Not much,” he admits.

Hailey suddenly remembers something she’d seen on Twitter a few days before. She nudges Nico with her foot under the table; he immediately traps her ankle between both of his.

“Happy belated birthday, by the way,” she tells him. A look that Hailey can’t read crosses Nico’s face, but it’s gone just as soon as it appeared. “Had a pretty good game the night before, too, I hear.”

“You watched our game?”

Hailey finds herself blushing. “Saw some of it,” she says. She had thought about texting Nico, both about his three point night and his birthday, but she had chickened out. Thought it might be too earnest for a semi-regular hookup.

“I thought you were a Rangers fan,” Nico teases.

Hailey kicks him with her other foot.

Nico keeps their dinner conversation steered carefully clear of hockey talk after that. They slowly work their way through some of the piles of food Nico brought over. Hailey thinks she’s going to be eating leftovers all week, regardless.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Nico asks suddenly during a lull in their conversation.

Hailey swallows her bite of pasta uncertainly. “Uh, sure?”

“Why softball?” “What do you mean, ‘why softball?’” Hailey echoes. She goes on before letting Nico clarify. “I’ve been playing softball forever. I used to toddle around at my older brothers’ tee ball games, trying to take a swing at every baseball I could find.” Nico laughs a little at that. “I ended up playing all the way through college. A lot of my friends were pretty beaten up or burnt out by the time we graduated, but I never really lost the love I had for the game, y’know?”

Nico nods but doesn’t interrupt.

“I mean, we never, like, won the College World Series or anything, but I liked going out there and playing all the time. When I left college ball behind and started my big girl job, I guess I was feeling kinda lost. Someone told me that New Jersey Play Sports had a competitive division for washed up athletes, it gave me a team again, a reason to get out of my apartment and get active.” She pauses, assesses Nico. He’s watching her intently. “Plus, some of the former college baseball players are kinda hot.” Nico flushes bright red, and Hailey smirks at him. She had actually slept with one of them once, but that had been long before Nico. Nico clears his throat.

“I get that—the, the team part, I mean. I think I’d be pretty lost without hockey.” Nico takes a pensive drink of his wine. “And I don’t think you’re washed up, you looked pretty good when I saw you play.”

“Are you sure you weren’t just looking at my ass in my softball pants?” she teases.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Nico says, holding his hands up in defense. “Maybe a little,” he admits.

Hailey heaves a sigh. They’ve barely made a dent in all of their food, but she doesn’t think she can eat another bite. “I think it’s time to clean up all this fuckin’ food,” she says, pushing her chair back and standing.

Nico stands, too. “Here, let me help.” He reaches for Hailey’s plate, but she holds it out of his reach.

“No way, buddy. You brought the food, I clean, that’s how this works.” Nico makes a face at Hailey, but he hands his plate over. Hailey makes a shooing motion with her hand. “Go find us something to watch on Netflix, or something.”

Nico trails after Hailey as she steps over to her sink. “Oh, are you trying to Netflix and chill me now?” Nico asks, voice low.

Nico places his hands on Hailey’s hips and crowds close behind her, pinning her to the counter. Hailey tries not to shiver. He presses a kiss to her cheek, then her neck, then to her shoulder. He keeps his face there, buried in her neck.

“I think we’re way past that, Hisch,” she tells him. Her voice comes out mostly normal. Nico releases Hailey, but not without one last kiss on the cheek.

With the food all stashed in the fridge and dishes done, Hailey wanders back into her little living room to see what Nico’s found to watch. He looks ridiculous lounging on her shitty hand-me-down couch, one of his socked feet hanging over the arm of the couch. He looks away from the TV to smile at Hailey as she walks over.

She can’t resist bending down to give him a quick kiss.

“Bathroom break,” she tells him, tossing her phone down on the cushion next to him. “Be right back.”

While Hailey is in the bathroom, her phone vibrates. Nico digs it out from where it had slid underneath his thigh, intending to set it on the coffee table instead. It vibrates again, then once more, before Nico has the chance to set it back down. Nico glances at the screen. Three new text messages, all from someone named Connor. Hailey has her message previews off, so Nico stares at the three little iMessage notifications until her screen goes dark.

Hailey reemerges from her bathroom.

“Nico?” she says softly. “Is that my phone?” Nico doesn’t release his white-knuckled grip on her phone. Hailey steps into his line of sight, crouches down in front of him when he doesn’t move. “Nics? Did something happen?” she asks.

Nico manages to say, “You got a few texts.”

Hailey eyes her phone. Nico still hasn’t set it down. “Okay?”

“Why don’t you have your message previews on?”

She’d had to turn them off when Nico had tried—quite badly—to sext her one night while he was bored on the road in December. She doesn’t say that, though.

“Because apparently the guy I’m fucking is nosy as hell.” Nico inhales quickly through his nose. Hailey pries her phone out of Nico’s grip, barely glancing at it before setting it aside. She’s feeling defensive now, though she still doesn’t understand why Nico suddenly got so upset.

“I didn’t realize you were sleeping with someone else,” Nico says stiffly.

Hailey blinks up at him. “What?” she asks. Then says, “I’m not, what the hell?”

Nico crosses his arms, frowning. “Who’s Connor, then?” His eyebrows, always so expressive, are drawn together. Hailey resists the urge to poke them.

Hailey crosses her arms, too, mirroring Nico instead. “What makes you think that’s any of your business?” Nico opens his mouth to argue, but Hailey barrels on. “And what makes you think you can judge me if I were sleeping around, anyway? Jack told me how you’re always bringing home different girls, never sleeping with the same one twice. Or how I literally saw you leave the bar with another girl the night I turned you down in October?”

Nico, somehow, frowns harder. He’d been trying to fend off Jack and Luke’s teasing for weeks; he’d lost count of the number of times he’d told them this thing with Hailey was just casual, just another hook-up, even though the rest of his regular picking up and hooking up had fallen by the wayside. Hailey watches him in silence as he struggles to organize his thoughts and respond.

“I— I haven’t slept with anyone else in—” He breathes out a harsh breath. “A month? Two?” The days all blur together during hockey season. They’d started to turn into: day off, game day, or a day he could see Hailey again.

Hailey’s face softens. “And Connor’s my brother, you dumbass.” Nico gapes at Hailey. She shrugs and pushes to her feet. Nico grabs at her wrist and tugs until she topples onto the couch, half on top of him. “Think you’ve got a little jealousy problem there, Cap,” she teases.

She likes the way Nico blushes and tries to hide his face in her neck, even though he scoffs.

“I’m not— I wasn’t jealous, I was just—” He trails off.

Hailey rests her head on Nico’s shoulder. “It’s okay, you can say it.”

Nico pinches at the skin above her hip, but he goes quiet for a moment. “I think—” He tries to collect his thoughts. “I think I was worried I’m more invested in this than you.”

Hailey cranes her neck to look into Nico’s face. He’s resolutely looking at a spot over her shoulder, towards the neglected Netflix screen. She pokes him in the cheek, right where one of his dimples is. He blinks and looks down at her.

“And what is ‘this,’ exactly, Nico?” she asks.

“I really like you,” Nico says. He doesn’t look away from Hailey this time.

She thinks about Jack Hughes telling her Nico was “down bad” in the elevator, Hailey grins at him. “I know,” she says.

“What?” Nico asks. He looks a little alarmed. “What do you mean, you know?”

“Jack told me,” Hailey says. “Something about never coming back for seconds?”

Nico swears. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Hey, Hisch?” She waits until Nico meets her eyes again. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, because I really like you, too.”

Nico, somehow, looks surprised. “Really?” he asks.

Hailey pulls him in for a kiss, slow and sweet. “Yes, really, Nico. You are definitely the only guy I’ve hooked up with in—longer than I’d care to admit, actually.”

Nico chuckles and pulls Hailey in for another kiss. They never do end up watching what Nico had picked out on Netflix.

#cait writes things #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fic #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

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carmenberzattosgf · 4 months

Note

letting carmy go crazy and mark you up—hickeys and cum all over you. his silly ass definitely tried making a ‘c’ out of hickeys on your chest or hips. he makes you cum each time while he waits to get hard again. murmurs shit like ‘so fuckin’ nasty. but you’re all mine, huh? my pretty girl…’ with possessive, awe-filled heart eyes

omg omg omg omg. You get me anon.

Carmy totally has a thing for marking you. In any type of way possible. It's a visible sign that you're his girl.

I'mma start with the hickies. He definetly doesn't go crazy above the neck where everyone can see. Carmy will just leave one on your neck, below your ear. Now below the neck? different story. He marks you up everywhere. He would so try to make a "C" out of hickies on your body. I'm thinking on your inner thigh though.

He's already made you cum and is inbetween your thighs. He always leaves marks on you when he goes down on you, but this time he's spenting more time on your thighs than usual. "Carm- what are you doing?" You try to lean up to get a better view of him, but one of his strong arms presses you down

"I'll show you when I'm done." After he's made you cum several more times, He carries you to the bathroom and sets you down on the counter to clean you up. It's then that you spot the collection of bruises on your thigh, in the shape of a "C".

"Carmen..."

"I think it looks good on you. Too bad I'm the only one who gets to see it."

Now I have... another thoughts that involve marking. Carmy cumming on your stomach. He smears it over your skin before writing a big letter "C" in the mess. He can't help but take his phone off the nightstand and snap a picture of you from the neck down. "Such a pretty girl. My pretty girl. Want to remember how beautiful you look with my initial on you," he murmurs. And the picture of you covered in hickies and his cum goes into his locked photo album.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto #brain rot

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echoingalaxies · 1 year

Text

Content: self-punishment/injury, conditioned whumpee, trauma

Whumpee got up before dawn to prepare breakfast. For so long now, it had been their routine, something they'd gotten used to doing no matter their condition, no matter the amount of pain or exhaustion weighing them down. Coffee with two sugars, and three fried eggs, would have to be ready to be served precisely at 6, and Whumpee would carry them to Whumper's room where he would still be sleeping, wake him up, and stand there, head bowed, wait until he finished his meal and then take the dirty dishes to the sink.

The few times Whumpee had missed the 6 am mark, even by a couple of minutes, hadn't ended well. Whumpee ran their fingers over the scars they'd received for those mistakes, wide and raised under their shirt, as they waited for the food to cook. They kept glancing at the clock, anxiously, shivering at the thought of being late, but they also couldn't hurry too much because the punishment for undercooked eggs would be just as cruel.

At 5:58, Whumpee had everything set up, and taking the plate and the large mug of coffee in their hands, they started to head toward the stairs, moving slowly for their aching body. Whumpee had become really good at counting in their head, so they knew they were right on time, as they balanced the mug on the plate for a second to knock on Whumper's door.

They pushed the door open, flicked on the lights - so much brighter than Whumpee remembered... He hadn't changed the lightbulb, so had Whumper had to do it himself? How come hadn't he told Whumpee to do it? - and went next to his bed.

"Your breakfast, sir," they said, trying to sound chipper but gentle, humble and happy to be there. "Good morning, sir," they added quickly after, almost having forgotten the proper way of greeting. What has wrong with them today?

Whumper, usually waking up to their voice and demanding to have the food immediately, just pulled the duvet to his chin, face deep buried into pillows. He grunted something inaudible, and Whumpee was left standing there, unsure what to do.

"S-sir? It's morning, sir, time to rise. Are you feeling ill?"

"Shut up," Whumper growled, and his voice was odd, but Whumpee pressed their lips together tightly, afraid to make a sound. "What the fuck are you doing, it's so damn early..."

The plate and the mug were shaking in Whumpee's hands as they began to breathe heavily, panicking. They'd been on time, but they'd made a mistake. They'd made some kind of mistake. Whumper was upset, and oh, when he'd wake up, hell was awaiting for them...

"Please," Whumpee whispered. "I- I'm so sorry. So sorry, sir..."

After a few mess-ups, Whumper had introduced Whumpee to an alternative option when it came to punishments of slipping off schedule or not completing their tasks just as Whumper had told them to. Quicker, easier, and for Whumper, even more fun than getting to carve marks on Whumpee's skin.

He'd love to watch Whumpee be humiliated.

"I don't want to waste my time on you when I have better things to do," Whumper had once said. "Make it simpler for the both of us. You know when you mess up. Why not get the consequenses out of the way? Use whatever's available, as long as you clean up the blood."

Whumper was still under the covers, perhaps falling back to sleep. Whumpee was still confused by the situation, but it seemed like he should've somehow known to not bother him this morning, oh no, they'd done gravely wrong, and there was only two ways out...

And they'd made their choice which route to take.

Whumpee set the plate on the nightstand, and closed their eyes, when with trembling hands, they took the mug of still steaming coffee above their head and spilled it all over themselves. Even as cried out in agony, they kept reminding themselves whatever Whumper would have done to them would've been worse, and with any luck, this would be enough.

Whumper was once again woken up by Whumpee's cries, and bolted up from the bed like he'd been electrocuted. Whumpee felt a sting in their heart. Of course they'd want to watch. Why would they miss the show? Maybe they'd be unsatisfied with their pain and make Whumpee throw themselves down the stairs for good measure.

Whumper cursed loudly and grabbed Whumpee's arm, pulling them out of the room and to the nearest bathroom. He shoved Whumpee under the shower and turned it on, turning the temperature cold. He squeezed Whumpee's arms, shaking them lightly.

"Oh god, Whumpee, why would you do that? What were you thinking?"

Whumpee coughed, the water getting into their mouth. They shivered, from cold and from fear.

Another mistake.

Nothing made sense.

Why was whumper helping him? What was all of this?

Whumpee tried to pry themselves away from Whumper's grip and out of the shower, but Whumper held them still.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry -"

"Wait," he said, sounding concerned rather than angry now. "Oh shit, Whumpee, no, stop that. Look at me. I'm not him."

Whumpee did as they were told and raised their gaze to meet the eyes they expected to be gray and cruel, and was shocked to see hazel, and nothing but kindness.

"I'm not him," he repeated, and Whumpee blinked a few times, letting their eyes take in the rest of the person's face. "Everything is okay. You're home, remember? Safe."

The person had dark circles under their eyes. They had a friendly face, although right now, they wore a worried expression. Whumpee wiped water from their face to see better... their eyes must've been lying to them...

"I..." Whumpee begun, stammering. "S-sorry... I should've let you sleep... I didn't know... I'm sorry..."

"Whumpee, shh." The person reached to turn off the shower and then let go of them to grab a large, thick towel they spread on Whumpee's shoulders. "Don't, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't realise it was you. You shouldn't even be walking! I thought it was Teammate just annoying me, I was barely awake, I didn't mean to be harsh towards you."

Whumpee pulled the towel around them, turning their head to look around. They knew this bathroom. They'd been patched up here many times before, years earlier. It was Caretaker's.

They looked at the person in front of them. They knew them. It was coming to them slowly, but they knew them better than anyone.

"Caretaker?"

They smiled. "Yeah. It's me. It's okay. You've been home for a few days now, remember?"

"I... guess."

Caretaker helped Whumpee out of their wet clothes and let them shower privately, washing the coffee off their hair and ease the pain in the burns on their scalp, their face, their shoulders.

When whumpee was ready, they opened the door to let Caretaker in once again. Caretaker sat them down on a little stool and started to treat their injuries, talking in a calming matter throughout the process. Whumpee was still feeling lost, his brain struggling to understand what was real and what was not.

"I'm still so sorry, Whumpee," Caretaker said, spreading something soothing over his burns. "I never should've allowed things to go so far that you'd do this to yourself."

"I didn't want you to hurt me," Whumpee said quietly. Caretaker stilled for a second, then continued rubbing the lotion on Whumpee's skin. Whumpee bit their cheeks. Caretaker, and everybody else, didn't know much about what he'd been through with Whumper. They hadn't had many opportunities to talk that much yet.

"I would never do that." Caretaker leaned in and pressed an unexpected kiss on Whumpee's forehead. Whumpee blushed, though they were grateful it probably was hidden by their already reddened face. No one had done that for... Whumpee didn't even know how long. "No one will ever hurt you here. And you never have to hurt yourself, okay?"

Whumpee wished they could keep that promise. But who was to say what happened this morning wouldn't happen again?

"Yeah," they said. Caretaker's touch was gentle and comforting, and Whumpee remembered them as a trustworthy person.

Only it all wasn't up to Caretaker.

And it wasn't up to Whumpee. They didn't decide to forget they were not living in that nightmare anymore.

But if things were to be like this, would they ever truly get out?

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mikalame · 11 months

Note

Sooo I saw u wanted requests but if anything feel free to ignore what about husband Tom x wife reader who always wakes him up with kisses an let’s say one day she sleeps in Tom does it back to her

Morning honey

This is kinda the era with this oneshit but you can use what ever one you like

taglist: @oppopotamus @violentnewmarley @saumspam

"Morning honey" you whisper sweetly as you kiss toms cheeks and lips softly to wake him up. You had been doing this since the start of your realtionship as you were always quite the early bird while tom liked to sleep in.

"mmh, morning babe" he groans streching his arms and back before flopping back into the bed resting him head on his arm "how did you sleep love?" he questions eyebrow cocked.

"Wonderfuly, tho someone needs to stop kicking me" you say in an accusatory tone, tom giggles "i don't know what your on about, i neverrr kick" he says with a guilty look.

"Yeah right, mister, come on chop chop we have stuff to do today, we have to meet with the band, bill wants to go to some amesment park, then while were there we are doing and interveiw of sorts but yeah, full day" You say while walking around getting all of your things sorted for the day.

Ugh, i just woke up give me a second hon pleasee" he whines, dragging him feet across the carpet, slowly getting ready. "Well whos fault is that for sleeping in till 8 hmm" you question "no, you just wake up at like the ass crack of dawn, mabey tomorrow you sleep in and i can do all them ushy gushy stuff you do to me, to you huh how bout it" tom asks eyebrows raised.

"Tommie i would probly have to remind you to do it, its fine i dont need you too i like doing all that 'ushy gushy stuff' to you" you say quoteing him, while fixing his hair so it wasnt in his face making sure the dreads sticking out werent to bad.

"Okay, tom you ready, lets go" you say doing the last bit of your shoes before heading out, Tom in toe behind you.

Time skip

"Ugh, my feet are killing me" you moan rubbing the back of your heels where they had been rubbing agaist you for the whole day. "Mhh, i agree why coudn't we just sit down on a bench or something" Tom asks sittig down leaning his lead on the back of the couch.

"Im gonna shower then gonna go to bed" you say groaning as you stand you "mmh have fun babe, dont fall over" tom giggles.

After waiting for a bit he hears the shower turn on and decides to get ready for bed as well not bothering to shower as he didnt want to move his arms to do his dreads up.

After putting on his sleep clothes he walks to the kitchen to make himslef some food hearing the shower turn off and hearing some noises he assumes ___ has gone to bed.

Finsihing off him food he walks back to the bedroom and sees ___ passed out on the bed, he smiles giggling at the fact she was so tired there he decided to wake up early and make sure she was super comfy for tomorrow.

Time skip

Tom groans as his head falls to the side quickly turning off ___ alarm to wake herself up he checks to see if she woke up but she hadn't. Tom sighs, his entire plan would be ruined if she had awoken.

Tom starts by cleaning the kitchen and doing all the laundry, folding and putting on the next load, before moving to make her a breakfast in bed with eggs on toast, bacon, and panckes for if she wanted more after, with a side of coffee.

As the clock hit 8 it was show time Tom carefully walked to the bedroom careful not to make much noise.

As he places the breakfast on her nightstand he kisses he cheeks softly remembering how much he liked it, next he did some sweet word whipering i love you's and talking about how pretty ___ is and all that lovey stuff.

___ eyes begin to flutter as she wakes up to soft kisses and someone talking about how beautiful she was, when she opened her eyes she was met with the face of none other than her husband smiling down at her softly.

"Tom, your up so early" she groans still thinking its 6am "no hun it 8 i let you sleep in anddd,... i made you breakfast" he says gestering towards the food next to her the heat wafting off of it, her stomach rumbles loudy just smelling the food.

"Oh Tom your so sweet" she says kissing his cheek before tucking into the food he prepared.

"No problem at all my love" Tom says a smile adorned on his face looking at his one true love.

Hope you like anon i got hungry when writing the food lol

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz smut

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zh-lele · 1 year

Text

TOO FAST (m)

▪︎Pairing: Mark Lee x female reader

▪︎Genres: angst, romance, street racing au, friends with benefits trope

▪︎Warnings: graphic descriptions and mentions of death, blood, violence, drug use, and depression; profanity; sexual and suggestive content. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Contains spoilers of previous parts of the series.

▪︎Word count: 12.6k words

playlist | Pictures taken by Taeyong | Drifting series

Hi everyone! New installment of my Drifting series is up :) This is Mark's part and happens right after Haechan's story, so it's filled with spoilers (if you haven't read that one yet.) I don't really think you need to read Haechan's part to understand what happens around here, but if you want, please go check 'We ridin'' that's also liked in my masterlist. Also, this fic is pretty graphic so please read warnings and don´t proceed if you feel uncomfy with any of the themes treated here. Without much more to say, I hope you enjoy this story!

0. That's a pretty big trunk on my Lincoln Town Car, ain't it?

No matter how much weight he pulls off of his car, Mark can't get to drive freely around anymore. The backseats are gone, and the truck is empty before he starts the race. And you are waiting for him at the end of the road when he makes it first to the finish line, a big smile plastered on your face while looking at him. Everybody quickly starts cheering for him and throwing money to his face. And he tries hard. He tries so hard to enjoy it and be happy behind the steering wheel like he used to do, but he can't find to be able to.

Don't they see it too?

The car's trunk filled with bodies like a Hearse. The steering wheel bleeding, painting Mark's shaky hands in red. His swollen eyes wet with tears. All those scattered pieces on the pavement… And he can never get rid of the weight because he is the one carrying all that heaviness that won't let him breathe, no matter how empty he wants to leave the car.

He rubs his face up and down in frustration, mixing the blood and the tears until he turns, looking back at the destroyed vehicle. Hanging off the open trunk it's his head, open and misshapen, covered in blood, exactly as Mark had last seen him. It feels like a nightmare. He prays and begs to God for it to be a nightmare, please let it be a nightmare.

Your smile dissipates as soon as you lock eyes with him. Mark blinks once to let the tears roll down his cheeks and wet your hands that cup his face. When he realizes it wasn't a nightmare but a distorted memory of reality, the uncontrollably sobs come. So you hold him in your arms in the middle of messy bed sheets, trying to deal with the melancholy of another sleepless night taking care of your hurt best friend.

Mark's memories haunt him. Ever since the accident happened, you're sure he hasn't got a full night of sleep, and you hardly remember the last time you did. If he's not racing or partying until the sun comes out early in the morning, he's constantly trying to fall asleep and repeatedly being awakened by these nightmares, these horrible memories being manifested in his dreams, and getting scared by only closing his eyes in the dark.

The yellow light on the old nightstand illuminates very dimly the small hotel room where Mark has been living for the last time, and where you have found yourself returning more often than usual. Everything is messy and dirty. Mark's clothes sit piled up in a mountain on a chair in the corner of the room, and the tabletop cannot be seen due to the number of boxes and empty fast food packages left behind, not being cleaned for months now. To your left, the nightstand is littered with boxes of twenty Marlboro cigarettes, empty as well; broken lighters, and a dirty glass pipe with traces of a substance you haven't quite figured out yet and are afraid to do so.

Your best friend won't talk much to you despite having you coming back to his bed every night, but you don't need that to believe he's depressed.

You remember how it started. How you got yourself into the same hole.

—

Inside the small apartment the air felt thick and humid. The dim colored lights coming from the speaker did a poor job of outlining a tall silhouette in front of you. Your body was sweaty, your feet ached from standing for so many hours, and your heart beat faster than normal. Maybe it was tiredness. Maybe it was because of the sound vibrations of fast electronic music resonating with the movement of your heart muscle. Or maybe it was because of the joint that Yuta left between your fingers after exhaling all the smoke in your face, and you didn't hesitate to repeat his actions.

You couldn't wait to leave. You also couldn't allow yourself to touch any kind of surface because you knew that as soon as you leaned against a wall or an armchair, you wouldn't be able to get up again. It might not have been the smartest decision at the time to grab the glass of vodka Yuta was holding in his hands and finish it in one gulp, but you would have done anything to make the time go by faster.

And it worked, actually. It's hard to even remember the kind of music that started playing after that moment. What you remember exactly, however, something you can't erase from your memories of that night is what Mark looked like.

The color in his electric blue hair had already begun to fade, and his bangs clung to his forehead from all the humidity. Even with his unkempt appearance and the sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up to his shoulders, revealing toned arms that glistened under a fine sheen of sweat. None of it took away from his undeniable appeal. None of that mess was meant to make you walk away from him and forget how he felt that night. Like being drunk on Mark. As if all your senses were reduced to perceiving him, and only him. When did he even appear on your side?

"You're all wet."

"It's from all the dancing," Mark said, moving his face away from yours, just enough to keep supporting your waist with one hand, and wipe the sweat that had transferred from his cheek to yours with the other.

His closeness allowed you to perceive the smell of alcohol and cigarettes that emanated from his body. Firm muscles under his clothes that you couldn't have failed to notice all night, couldn't help but feel at that moment under your touch. An innocent enough tact, with intentions to keep dancing to whatever was playing. He couldn't know how much you liked him. You were best friends for fuck's sake. And no matter how many times you imagined it, there would never be another reality where you could be more than best friends. Furthermore, you were both too intoxicated to cross the line and then be able to return to your comfort zone. You knew you wouldn't be able to come back once you allowed yourself to get to know Mark in any other way.

"You know what's missing tonight?"

Mark had won the race that night. Five grand that were going straight to his wallet and his pride. That had Yuta celebrating and patting at Mark's back when he made it out of the car with a smile on his face to wrap him in a tight hug. A victory that would give Mark a moment of reassurance, that would distract him only for a second from all the horrible things that were actually going on in his life.

Despite all fears of ending up alone and punished by all his friends, life showed Mark everyday that he was wrong. Yuta chose to keep in contact with him even after the accident and after Johnny got mad at Mark. You were still around him too. And he was still a successful street racer that made thousands per night and allowed himself to have fun with a bunch of pretty girls. So yeah, you would've never guessed the words that came out of Mark Lee's mouth after that. You would've never imagined that what that night was missing was–

"A kiss from you," he answered himself, letting out a heavy breath and leaning dead-weight on you. "Just one kiss?"

That simple line was all it took to take your breath away. He was that powerful, and you kind of hated yourself for allowing him. You thanked in silence for the lack of lights in the living room, because your temperature rising and getting your face all red would've given you away.

"I don't know." You were honest with him. It was kind of ironic inside of your head, how much you wanted him yet you couldn't decide if you wanted to act on that desire. There were pros and cons.

On one hand, you would've done anything for Mark to feel better, to let him out of that dark void you saw him getting in, deeper every day. Anything for him. On the other hand, you knew how the story goes, from your friends and because you saw it in enough movies; casualty never works when there's feelings involved. You didn't have to experience it to know it wouldn't mean just a drunken kiss to you, just a little fun. It was gonna end up hurting, dragging you in like a cult, a bad religion.

It felt like years, the time you were thinking about what to say to him. "I really don't know."

"C'mon," he was persistent, getting his head off the crook of your neck and staring right into your eyes, then dropped the sight to your lips. And he left it there while he kept mumbling. "One lil' kiss."

How many things could ruin a silly, drunken kiss between friends at a party?

Your eyes met Yuta for a brief moment, before you saw him raise his eyebrows at you, an expression that said 'Are you really doing this?' on his face, and then saw him leave the room.

The thing is, you had liked Yuta since the very first moment you saw him and had been fooling around ever since. He's a true gentleman. He's fun to be around but centered enough to give you all the calmness you might need at the end of a stressful day. He's good enough to give you some of the best fucks of your life as well. He has a good job, no bad habits, and he gives you enough space. Anyone could say Yuta is the perfect candidate. If Mark wouldn't even look at you but happened that Yuta proposed to you, you would probably agree to be his girlfriend in a second.

You wanted to tell Mark no. You truly wanted to be faithful to whatever you had with Yuta. But you had loved Mark since forever. And that was different.

Now you believe you would've never had to accept that kiss from Mark Lee that night because, spoiler: after one kiss, you weren't able to stop.

So it happened one, two, three, four, five, countless times until you finally found the solution to Mark's sleeping situation. Sometimes it required a lot of alcohol, sometimes it required him to have something to smoke. But what never changed was that it had to start with a kiss and follow with a lot of your attention. It always ended with you and him, skin to skin to his bed sheets. He gets a night's full sleep, and you usually get a headache from all the overthinking.

—

When you feel that his breathing has become heavy again and his grip around your torso loosens, you confirm that Mark has gone back to sleep. The clock on the wall above the window reads 05:02 in the morning, and if Mark doesn't have another nightmare in the next hour, he may be able to sleep until the sun comes up.

Carefully and almost moving in slow motion, you slip from his grasp to get up from the bed. Your friend has been feeling exhausted for months now, and no matter how many hours he sleeps, he never manages to recover. That's what he tells you all the time: that he's exhausted from being exhausted, from wanting to rest and not being able to. So when you finally get him to drift off to sleep, the last thing you want is to wake him up.

You grab your pillow and place it filling the space that your body occupied between his arms, so he doesn't feel alone. You're not going anywhere but to sit on the dirty old couch in the next room. Mark's room and the space functioning as the entrance to the motel room are only separated by a thin wall of wood and plaster, and a curtain. If he happens to wake up again in the next few hours, you will be able to listen to him without any problem and return to him immediately.

When you turn on the yellow light in the gloomy bathroom—which door is broken so you won't even bother trying to close it—, the scene at the entrance lights up and you spot the figure laying on the couch. You wait for the glass to fill with water to turn off the tap in the sink and turn off the light, plunging the room into darkness again. The water runs hot and is of little help in quenching your thirst, but that's all you have for now until the convenience store near the motel opens.

Despite the darkness, you can see a large pair of eyes watching your every move carefully. He must have woken up because of Mark's nightmare, just like you. Coincidentally, in the small couch there is a space where you know you fit perfectly, so you take it and lie down next to him. The sides of your bodies rub against each other because it's a small couch afterall, and even when you can start to feel the heat of the morning you would like to get closer, snuggle into him, to wrap yourself in his arms and sleep together forever. But you're not going to do anything because Mark is only a curtain away. Also, because you were pretty sure he didn't want you anymore, not after you practically stopped seeing him the moment you started fucking Mark.

"Have you talked to Johnny?"

You turn your head to set your eyes on Yuta, lying on the couch still with all his clothes on, one arm acting as a pillow under his head. His long lashes brush his cheeks every time he blinks, and his chest rises and falls in a calm, controlled breath. Just looking at him gives you all the peace you are missing, making you sleepy. And you want to sleep, oh how you want to sleep for endless hours.

He shakes his head no.

"I feel like… I don't know, Mark really needs him right now."

There is a long silence in which you roll onto your side to keep looking at him. His eyes, now closed, make you think he has fallen asleep until he finally opens his mouth to speak.

"Johnny doesn't want to know anything about Mark." Yuta turns his head to look at you this time. His gaze is soft but holds all the truths you don't like to think of, so you can't do much more than moving your head down with a frown in your brows, and keep listening to him. "What he did to Haechan was stupid, put all of us in danger."

Memories of that night are fresh in your brain for two reasons. The first one, is that you interacted with Yuta for the first time that night, and things just escalated between the two of you from there. The second reason has to do with the fact that, all that happened back then, was Mark's breaking point.

1. You hit them stones and you broke your home

At the center of the closed road, the pavement was already painted with traces of burnt tires forming circular patterns. As the candy-colored cars drifted and slided and had all the people filming and celebrating around them, you really couldn't think of a worse way to waste your tires. It's a passion they seem to have, that you yet have to get to understand.

You observed Mark work frantically on his car, making you feel like there wasn't enough time. All his movements were too rushed, and his eyes moved around the crowd with a paranoid look. The rest of the team was counting the money, looking for someone to flag, taking the seats out of the car to make it as light as possible, moving the people from the middle of the street. You could already hear some sirens far in the distance, getting closer and closer.

"Mark, hurry up!"

Getting off an orange car with the windows all black, a voice rushed Mark to start the race. He had that spine-chilling look despite his totally relaxed walk, looking like he owned the streets. He was the protagonist of a bunch of stories Mark had told you about his friends. And you knew Mark admired and respected Johnny a lot. But Yuta... Yuta has always been something else to Mark. Something like his weakness, and it showed in the way he talked about him and behaved around him. "I can show you some pics, but you can't like him more than me," was how he always ended conversations about him.

You really tried to listen to your friend. You really tried not to get interested in the handsome guy giving him the last directions before the first race of the night. But you had to know him personally, had to get close to him. You wished it would have been under different circumstances, though.

A few minutes later, everything was ready for the race to start. Mark had to drive a few miles straight down the road, take an impromptu hairpin turn, and be back in front of your eyes safe and sound.

After the accident he got into with his friend Taeyong, everyone thought Mark would be too scared to drive again, at least for a while. But it was the complete opposite; he got careless and more reckless. Mark was sad and mad, and he used the races as a coping mechanism, among other things.

You, however, were worried and scared for him.

"I don't know why I agreed to come with you," you spoke with your arms crossed as you saw Mark walking towards you. He was wearing a subtle smile, and you could see how his face got rid of all that paranoia as soon as he found your eyes.

He wrapped you in a hug that forced you to uncross your arms to join them behind his head, reciprocating the gesture. "Thank you for coming," Mark told you so only you could hear him, and tightened the grip of his arms around your torso. "But you don't have to stay if you don't like it. I can ask one of the guys to get you home."

You took a look around separating yourself from him, and thought about his offer for a second. Johnny seemed busy dealing with all the bets for that night's race, so you doubted he could take you home. Jaehyun was racing too, so neither him or Mark were gonna drive you. Johnny's sister didn't own a car, so she wasn't an option. The only one who seemed like he wasn't occupied was Yuta, who was looking at the two of you with an unreadable expression, sitting on top of his car hood, probably just waiting for Mark to stop delaying the race.

You kinda, definitely wanted Yuta to take you home, to ride together and maybe chat a little on the way. To finally get to know him—and maybe exchange a kiss or two before you would come out of his car and walk to your door.

But that wasn't happening that night.

"No fucking way."

The crowd went silent. The only sound traveling through the thick summer atmosphere was the sound of the engines. No one needed him to get out of the bright yellow car to know who he was. Nonetheless, he got the audacity to do it.

"Didn't I fucking tell you," Johnny's voice was filled with rage, speaking directly to him, "that I don't want to see you around ever again?"

"I'm gonna fucking kill him." You heard Mark whisper in front of you.

"You're not doing shit." You grabbed Mark's jaw trying to get him to look at you, but his eyes were locked on Haechan. His hands left your waist to become fists at his sides, ready to attack if you weren't holding him back and speaking in his ear, trying to maintain your composure. "If you do anything to him, we're not gonna see the end of it."

But the truth was you wanted to beat him to pieces probably as much as Mark wanted to.

"Just one race!" Haechan got off his car speaking to Johnny with open arms, palms facing the night sky. "For the old times?"

"But…" Mark rested his eyes on you again, and you could almost see yourself reflected in the accumulation of tears that threatened to fall at any moment. He spoke only for you, "Taeyong is dead because of him."

People went crazy after hearing Haechan ask for a race. Three months had passed since the accident and, since then, neither Haechan nor the Lees had dared to roam the same streets as the Suhs and his friends. Of course, people like watching other people fight, they enjoy the gossip and the problems, so it didn't take long for the crowd to start betting on Haechan as the winner of that night. Johnny had no choice but to get his team to race against the Lees, to remind them again that he didn't want them around, and that it was just a one time thing.

"Listen," Johnny held Mark's face in his hands and spoke directly to his eyes, "you're gonna race and you're gonna make it to the finish line intact. I don't give a fuck about who's winning. I just want you to finish, so he can get the fuck out of here before I lose my mind and rip his face off."

Mark nodded quickly a few times. It was clear he was nervous—from the way he grabbed and squeezed the steering wheel with his hands, and settled back and forth in the seat, impatient for the race to end when it hadn't even started.

"Don't you–" a bit of embarrassment creeped into his voice and cut him half way into the sentence, making him gulp dry before proceeding. "Don't you have something for me? I'm just feeling a little low," he finished asking, his narrowed eyes barely daring to look at his older brother.

Johnny let out a heavy sigh and moved his head to look above Mark's car, into the racing scene, and pondered on it for a moment. Honestly, he never thought he could be the best leader or the best older brother, but he managed to convince himself he was doing pretty fine, until the Donghyuck thing happened. Not that Donghyuck thing, the one that had to do with his sister and later with Taeyong. But the Donghyuck thing that made the big family they all were before break apart, and split into two rival groups. Something happened in that moment that Johnny felt made him fall apart; he lost all that confidence he once had. It only got worse when Donghyuck got with his sister, though, and he took Taeyong with him too, and now he felt like he was losing Mark as well.

Johnny reached into the front pocket of his jeans and held the small bag there for a few seconds, while debating whose fault it was, and thinking about how he could stop ruining his family. Back then, he had no clear answer. He felt like Mark was fucked up enough already. And because he loves him unconditionally, he just did what he thought was best for Mark at the time.

He ended up taking the small bag from his front pocket and tossing it to Mark, who quickly grabbed it with both hands and didn't even thank Johnny before he was closing his tinted windows on his friend's face.

Johnny thought that even if it was the wrong thing to do, he himself would help Mark sober up later, because he couldn't dare lose any more brothers.

You watched the entire exchange from afar. From Mark positioning himself in line with Jaehyun, Haechan and another boy's cars at his sides, until Johnny and Yuta joined you with the same worried look that your eyes wore.

There was a constricting sensation in your chest, a pressure watching that scene unfold that made your voice tremble. "I have a bad feeling about this."

You know what they say, that there are friends with whom you live certain things, and friends with whom you are part of other things. Haechan, Mark and you were all good friends once, way back in high school, but after they parted ways you decided not to get involved in their illegal activities. You barely knew this side of Mark's life, most of it since he loved his friends so much and always told you everything about them. He tried to integrate you as much as possible when situations called for it: birthdays, casual meetings at Johnny's garage, and parties. But all that pretty far from the street racing scene, that being the first time he actually invited you to go watch him race after years.

"Don't worry," Johnny said to you at the same time his sister was positioning herself at the middle of the starting line, ready to give them the direction. "They know what they have to do very well.

And as soon as she lowered her arms, the cars sped off, leaving a huge cloud of smoke in front of you that obstructed your view for a few seconds.

"They will be driving in a straight line for about a kilometer," he continued. "Then they will reach a crossroads and must take the path to the right, we will lose sight of them at that moment."

"But if they do everything right and don't cause any trouble, we'll see them come out of that other corner." Yuta pointed at a corner a few blocks from you with a blinking yellow traffic light while explaining to you. "And someone will make it right here first. The winner."

You assumed that you managed to make him feel your intense gaze on him, and that made his eyes meet yours. His arms crossed while still leaning on the hood of his car. He noticed your nervousness.

"Relax," his voice was soft while speaking to you. A smile adorned his face when he invited you to sit with him, right beside his body on top of the orange hood. "Let's root for our team."

You nodded with your head at him and chose to remain silent. While you waited to see your friend return, you reached in the back pocket of your pants for the small box and the lighter, and lit a cigarette. It was the best thing you could think of to pass the time.

"You're a smokestack."

Your eyes widened hearing that. You didn't take it as an insult, since when you turned around and saw Yuta's face you only found a playful smile. But you still decided to take a long drag on the cigarette, blow out all the smoke, and then ask him in an offended tone.

"Excuse me?"

"You smoke too much," he said nonchalantly, jumping off the car and standing right in front of you.

His eyes traveled from your legs hanging off his hood, to your hand holding the cigarette, to your chest and lastly your face in a matter of milliseconds. A quick check out that awakened a whole new rush of adrenaline and nervousness to your body. A stare that only sent shivers down your spine, so you tried to play it cool and straighten your back, wanting to reach the level of his face.

"And how would you know?"

You made an effort not to let the conversation die. Ever since Mark told you about them and showed you photos of his friends, you had wanted to meet Yuta. Walking across him at Johnny's house or at random parties had never been enough. Firstly, because Yuta was rarely alone. And secondly, because when he was alone you would never have thought of being the first to approach him and talk to him.

Because you weren't expecting it from Yuta—the only friend of Mark that was quiet and mysterious enough that you had never struck up a conversation with—it took you a couple of seconds to process the words that came out of his mouth.

"I've been watching you." Yuta took your hand that was holding the cigarette and held it very gently in between his. Enough to notice how yours trembled.

Yuta definitely didn't have to do that to notice how anxious you were. But then you would understand how powerful his energy is and how physical contact becomes completely necessary and inevitable when he is around. That you didn't even need to say a word for him to notice you were attracted to him—you were painfully obvious around Yuta. It became ridiculous the way you lost yourself watching him talk and just mind his business. Yuta loved every second of it.

He would finally return all that attention to you later.

"You may fancy me." He took the cigarette off your hand and took a puff. "But you really, really love Mark."

You sighed deeply and looked down as you felt the heat rise and tint your cheeks. You didn't dare look at him when you spoke again. "I'm seriously that obvious?"

Yuta muttered positively and you could hear him smiling. That attractive teasing smile he always wore but paired with the softest looking eyes, that you knew could mean no harm.

"The problem is… I like Mark."

You couldn't help but laugh when you heard him, since you definitely weren't expecting that outcome. He only smiled while seeing you laugh.

"But he won't pay enough attention to me," he continued with a shrug. "So I thought, maybe you wanna do something with me after this?"

"So, I'm the second choice," you established, crossing your arms and putting on a straight face.

Yuta shook his head, still wearing his little attractive smile. "No, I was just joking," he reassured you. "I think you're interesting, and you're hot, so I wanna know you."

The cigarette came back to your hands right before Yuta was blowing all the smoke he had inhaled on your face. He was being pretty clear, you had no doubt at that point.

So you filled yourself up with a little courage, smiled big, took a puff of that nicotine and said, "Alright, we're going to mine."

"Sounds lovely."

Is the unexpected screeching of tires locking up what deafens your ears, bringing you and Yuta out of your little bubble to find another cloud of smoke blocking your view. Only seconds pass after the smoke clears into the air, and Mark's car comes to rest in line with Haechan's, giving your friend second place in the race.

It all happened way too quickly. One moment Mark was getting out of his car, violently closing its door and getting every person out of his way. The next moment he was above Haechan's body on the street, beating the life out of him.

Mark seemed uncontrollable, out of his mind. It took not only Johnny and Yuta to separate him from Haechan's bleeding face, but Jaehyun had to get out of his car and intervene as well. It was him trying to restrain Haechan's friends from coming and beating Mark, while Johnny's sister cried and screamed besides her lover, who wore that typical wicked, cynical smile on his bloody-dripping mouth. It was absolute chaos.

"I'm going to kill you! I swear to God, you won't mess with any of my friends ever again because I'll fucking kill you!"

After a lot of struggling and missed punches (that almost ended in yours and the boys' faces) coming from an extremely euphoric Mark, they managed to lock him in the back seat of Yuta's car. Johnny ordered Yuta to take him away, and that he didn't want to see his face in the neighborhood until the situation calmed down. It was a little cruel, the way he kicked Mark out of the house they shared, but you understood. Mark was still too hurt and resentful of Taeyong's death, but Johnny knew that trying to get revenge on the Lees would only start an endless war. Or maybe cause an ending that would badly hurt them again, and Johnny was tired of losing brothers.

A tall boy with a thin face and raven hair pointed to Mark, and that same index finger he rested on the skin of his neck moved across, from right to left. You're dead, but Mark wouldn't listen to it, still sitting in the back seat of the car.

"Jeno, let's leave this shitty place," Haechan said once he was back on his feet, blood spitting, staining his shirt and even the ground.

Haechan and his friends (including Johnny's sister) left with a promise to come back for them.

Johnny was on his right to get extremely mad at Mark. Because that was the exact reason he didn't do anything to Haechan in the first place, that one night he had him at gunpoint in the rain. He could've ended him right there, but he knew what would've come. And that was the difference between the Lees and the Suhs: Johnny cared for his people—because yes, Haechan was his people once, just as Taeyong was when he was alive. He didn't want anyone to get even more hurt.

So now they have to deal with the fear of the Lees coming for them, because they know the gang has become weak. Johnny doesn't have his sister anymore, he doesn't have Taeyong, he doesn't have Mark, and Yuta is barely there because he spends most of the time with you or Mark. And that guilt is eating your best friend alive.

It was dawn by the time you and Yuta tossed an exhausted Mark into the motel bed where he would spend the next few months. While he passed out as soon as he touched the mattress, you came down from the adrenaline rush in the form of shaking and crying.

That same night you brought Mark to the motel, after you put him to sleep, Yuta and you drank and smoked until you calmed down and then made out until any of you had energy to go on. You liked him and wanted everything with him. But Yuta was a very patient and understanding person. He made that clear from the very first moment you met properly.

You may fancy me, but you love Mark.

And yes, maybe fucking around with Yuta was fun from time to time, until that guilt started eating you alive.

Now you look at Yuta, laying on the motel couch centimeters from you, yet he feels like he's miles away. You think you miss him, his security and the sense of stability you had when you were with him. These days he comes to check on Mark, make sure you're both not starving, maybe share a beer or a cigarette with you, and he leaves. He still does all that even after you dropped him to fuck your best friend, that is one of his best friends too.

But when Yuta leaves you're back to your miserable hole, praying that Mark won't die from an overdose tonight, or that won't leave and come back hours later with some other girl, kicking you out so he can fuck because he's suddenly tired of the routine, then calling you at ungodly hours because he can't sleep without you.

The japanese boy calls your name. A fine film of sweat covers his smooth skin and is visible in the dim light of dawn, which filters through the hideous lace curtains. His eyes tell you that he's about to reveal that truth that you don't want to hear, but he's going to be brutally honest anyway.

"You need to get out of here."

2. I'm talking fear, fear of missing out on you and me/I don't think I could find a way to make it on this earth

Mark had always been very careful. The most careful of all, in fact—not just when it came to racing, but in every aspect of his life. When he drove, when he served customers in Johnny's garage, when he would go out with the boys and have to take care of a drunk Taeyong, he was the most careful. You know he was always very careful in the way he treated girls too, because Mark did everything with love.

It isn't fair what happened to him. It made him start doing things with fear. Fear of missing out on things, fear of losing, fear of hurting people, fear of God. You can taste the fear in him, because lately everytime you connect your lips it feels like he's kissing you for the last time ever.

He holds your face and steals a long, soft kiss from your lips. Eyes squeezed shut while he deepens it and gets his tongue to explore inside your mouth. None of it is rushed nor violent, in contrast with how he usually ends up fucking you. And you like this side of Mark, the one that kinda feels like he's doing it to you with love instead of fear, but you know you can't get too attached to it.

Or at least more attached than you already are.

Mark moves his hands from your face to your back, and caresses the skin there for a moment, before hugging the middle of your torso and pushing you flush against his. Your naked breasts collide with his equally naked chest, and his skin burns yours. He's restricting you from moving now, so he angles his hips pressing his feet on the mattress and starts thrusting up into you. It's a gentle pace, but all the alcohol and the weed in your system only make you feel him ten times intensified, ten times deeper. You tug on his long hair, bite and suck on his neck trying to contain all the sounds that want to escape from your mouth, yet the pleasure is too much and more than one manages to slip and mix with Mark's whines.

You're kinda embarrassed when you come after what feels like only five minutes that passed since you sat on top of Mark.

He feels you clench and become tight around him, so he stops his movements for a moment until you catch your breath. You know he's not done with you, just trying not to hurt you from the overstimulation. After one intense orgasm heavily loaded with feelings, you're exhausted. But this has always been about him. You need to make sure he will go back to sleeping peacefully. So you get off him and lay beside his body, before Mark takes position between your legs and buries himself inside you one more time.

He doesn't need to do much, doesn't need to say anything at all. You and him have gotten to explore each other's bodies for months now, you both know damn well that you're gonna come again, and after that you're gonna let him finish making a mess all over you.

What Mark would've never expected was seeing those thick tears run down your face, that you quickly tried to swipe off before he could ask anything about it. Even if sometimes it doesn't show, Mark loves and cares for you, so he's gonna ask anyway.

"Love," he calls for you and stops his movements. You open your eyes, lashes feeling heavy with the weight of the tears on them, and see his worried face right on top of yours. His hair is messy, his neck sweats and a silver necklace with a couple of charms hangs from it, somehow making Mark look even more attractive than usual. "I didn't hurt you, right?" A deep frown takes over his features.

You feel bad for ruining such a moment like this. You answer, shaking your head no.

"Please tell me the truth."

You shake your head no once again, wrapping your arms around him to tug and make him collapse his weight on you.

Love. The pet name replays in your head like a scratched CD and you wish you could turn it off to finally go to sleep. Mark calls your name and props himself up in his arms to look at you. He's still waiting for an explicit reply to his question.

How could you tell him that you were crying because you never felt so much love for someone in your entire life, without scaring him away? How could you explain to him that you understand it was all in your head, because you know he is too broken to even love to that same extent?

"I'm fine," you finally tell him and grab his face to give his lips one last, deep kiss. "Crying 'cause it's too good."

He shows a subtle smile and makes an effort to observe how the morning light illuminates your skin, with his eyes full of sleep, drunk on alcohol and your body and barely open. It's an image he wants to remember because, for some reason, it also feels to him like it could be the last time he gets to be with you like this.

"You sure?"

You nod and smile subtly in response, and move his fingers to make him touch you, in hope you can overcome the pain of loving too hard with the pleasure.

"Wanna give me one more?" His lips get your neck and collarbones all wet while he works on bringing you to the edge. His name manages to come out of your mouth in between gasps. "The last one?"

After both of you finally finish, Mark collapses on your side, half of his body still curled up to you, and calls your name softly. You hear his voice getting filled with fatigue.

"Mhm?"

"Thank you," he says in a whisper. Next thing you know, his breathing has become heavy again and his little snores can be heard in the silent motel room.

The story repeats itself, and you curse yourself and despair for not being able to even shut your eyes closed when you're exhausted. You're overthinking again. Hours go by with barely a couple of hours of sleep, and soon you have to get up to leave food ready for Mark and continue with your life outside these four walls.

3. Permission to crash, collecting damages, boy

The metal stairs creak under your shoes as you go up to the motel room, carefully not to slip because of the night's drizzle. The walk to the room where Mark has been staying feels longer than usual, maybe because you're extremely tired, and don't even remember the last time you got to sleep for an entire night by now, always interrupted by something—if it isn't because of Mark's nightmares, it's because you're either out with him and friends or catching up with missed work instead of sleeping. You can't wait to make it through his door, find him sleeping (with a little luck) and pass out on his bed beside him.

That old clock hanging on the wall indicates 10:27 p.m.. Inside, the room is extremely quiet. If it weren't for the mess around every surface, and the image of Mark's legs knocked out on the bed that you can perceive through a thin curtain separating the bedroom and the common area, you would believe the space is completely empty, abandoned.

The small table that Mark uses to eat is almost imperceptible for all the garbage that has accumulated there. Empty beer bottles, packs with leftover food, cigarettes, dirty napkins, his car keys and even some clothes cover the surface. You wonder how Mark continues to use the table when you're not there, or if he's just using it to leave stuff .

The delivery bags will serve to collect all the waste and clean up the environment a bit. Your friend has been going through a difficult time for a while now, and of course it's hard for him to do simple tasks like keeping the place where he lives clean and tidy. You don't even think about it much when you propose yourself to give him a helping hand while he sleeps; throwing everything that seems useless and dirty into the bags, and leaving it in the bins on the street. You hope Mark will feel more uplifted when he wakes up, finding himself in a slightly nicer, more livable place.

He's in a deep sleep leaning on his side, and watching him breaks your heart. You like it when Mark sleeps naturally. Even when he passes out from being extremely exhausted, you prefer it instead of when he goes to sleep after injecting that destructive drug right into his veins. On his bedside table is the glass syringe, the lighter, the aluminum foil. On the floor, in the space between the rickety bed and the little table, a plate with lines of half-consumed cocaine and the belt of his pants.

He doesn't even care enough to hide it anymore. It breaks your heart some more.

In an impulsive act, you grab whatever is there that has been destroying him, Yuta and you. Everything that has been making life difficult for everyone, ever since Taeyong left, since Johnny kicked Mark out, and your friend fell even harder into that pit.

You flush it down the toilet. Tears run down your cheeks, and the sound of the water taking everything down the drain mixes with your sobs. At the same time, the lights from the garbage truck outside the motel come in through the bedroom window, blinding your view a bit. Nothing is left.

With shaky hands, you open the window and light up a cigarette, in hope of calming down a little. Every day that passes is becoming harder to understand how you made it this far. You can't imagine how worse it could be if you weren't there for him, or if Yuta wasn't with Mark too.

One cigarette is consumed after another, until the ashtray is almost full and you stop because your chest starts to hurt. Mark's voice is present in the room; he calls your name dragging it full of confusion.

Here begins the story of how everything you two once were ended in a few minutes, too fast. Or perhaps the fall was anticipated, but no one knew how to cushion it.

"What happened here?" he asks hoarsely, clearly struggling to fully open his eyes, despite the place being subtly illuminated by the street lights peeking through the windows.

"Just did a little cleaning," you answer, letting the smoke out of your lungs. You said to yourself it would be the last one of the night, but something about the situation is making you slightly anxious.

Mark only nods in response and keeps turning around in his place, taking everything in. He ruffles his head in a poor attempt at fixing the bed hair, scratches the back of neck down to his arm. It's nerve-wracking—seeing him act so natural after having passed out for you don't know how many hours, at the risk of overdosing and dying alone, choking on his own vomit.

It fills you with rage inside how inconsiderate he's been lately, but you're exhausted and don't plan on fighting tonight.

"You coming back to bed?"

"No, sorry," he says when you're already on your way to the bedroom. The clarity in his voice tone indicates to you he's wide awake now. "I have a race in like an hour or so."

You sit on his side of the bed to finally take your shoes off and start undressing. A heavy sigh unconsciously escapes you, and you have to ask him. You've been thinking for a couple weeks now that it would be good for him if he just left the racing scene, only for a while until he fully recovers from all the pain he's gone through. If it all started with it, the answer should be there too, ending it.

"Why do you do that?" You watch his figure enter the room. "Why do you keep racing?" Your questions come out a little exasperated, the tiredness getting the worst out of you even when you don't mean to sound rude.

"Why do I keep racing? How do you think I'm paying for the fucking expenses right here?"

His tone disorients you for a moment, making you believe that your question may, in fact, have been inappropriate. "Sorry, I just- I just thought you could get a job that makes you feel a little more normal, you know?" you propose, almost as if you're afraid of how he might react. "Give you a routine, make you feel better."

"No," he answers quickly, shaking his head low. "Racing is the only thing that makes me feel alive right now. That, and"– he doesn't finish his sentence. Instead, he gulps dryly and keeps his thoughts only for himself.

You know it's better not to push it. Because he's not good with words, and because you don't think you're capable of dealing with whatever other emotions Mark could be going through right now.

You love Mark endlessly. You're sure the only thing that's wrong right now is that work drained you. You could have this conversation in the morning.

"And you? Why do you do it?" he decides to ask without looking you in the eye.

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you keep playing with Yuta and me at the same time?"

The question makes your heart stop and your stomach turn, but you try not to show it.

"That's seriously the last thing I needed to hear today."

You finish saying the sentence and move to the bathroom to quickly brush your teeth, ignoring the eyes of Mark following you from his spot in the bedroom. Too familiar with his look on you only wearing your underwear. Too used to Mark's bad mood after putting substances into his body until he falls unconscious. Too guilty because, in fact, you've been feeling confused about the two boys.

"I know you like him. I– I can feel it. I saw you laying so close early, saw the way you looked at him."

It makes your head hurt, and you squeeze your eyes shut trying to, somehow, ease the pain away. Yes, of course there has always been something about Yuta. Something about the calmness and security you feel when you're together. Something about the love you see he has for Mark that you wish someone had for you. Something about his kisses and touches and the look in his eyes that feel safe. Because Mark was your best friend once, your unconditional support; you were each other's until you weren't anymore. You just started to take care of him and to fall for him harder, and harder. You only became his while you lost him and he lost himself in the process. But Yuta somehow was there to make it easier for you, and numb a little part of the pain away.

You still love Mark endlessly, but he's not good for you. You don't love Yuta, but he feels like the right one for you. And you know their brotherhood might come before your friendship—with any of them. You can't ruin that for them only because you can't decide between the two boys.

It's always been easier to ignore all that.

"Can we just– not have this conversation?"

"Are you fucking him too?"

"I'm not." You look up to him as you accommodate yourself on the bed once again, rage filling your insides for the second time that night. "And what the fuck do you care, huh? The fuck do you care about me?"

"I care because I thought you were with me?" he asks, a tone of disbelief in his voice.

"Mark, we never agreed on being exclusive. We didn't even talk this out. We just started fucking because you were too fucking selfish and couldn't even notice what actually happens here"– you get interrupted by him calling your name.

His eyes are fixed on the nightstand that you emptied while he was passed out. And you swallow dryly, afraid to say a word. You can't imagine what he's going to say to you but, from his look, you can be sure it's not nice at all.

"You did a little cleaning," he repeats.

The room stays quiet. Mark starts looking for something around the nightstand—over it, behind it, under the little furniture and in the space around it. Frantically. And calls your name again. This time his voice is shaky, and when he looks at you he's at the verge of tearing up.

You imagined throwing all his drugs away would be hard for him. A risky move. All kinds of reactions were expected.

"Where is Taeyong's necklace?"

"Huh?" discomposure shows in your tone.

"Taeyong's necklace! It was right here, on the nightstand."

You remain quiet while observing him starting to look around the entire motel room. His body has got all tensed up and began shaking in consequence. He empties the drawers, the bags with his clothes, takes the bedsheets off, makes you move to turn the bed and the pillows upside down and checks inside the bathroom too. There's only curses coming out of his mouth and his voice breaks more and more, starting to sob like a little kid in front of your eyes when he realizes the object he's looking for is nowhere around.

He yells your name to get your attention but it only scares you even more. You're terrified of telling him, because you know you've really screwed up this time.

Meeting his teary eyes, yours fill with tears too.

"Mark," you call for him but he's already looking at you, waiting for an explanation.

You remember it now. It had been standing over the little table since you got here for the first time, but you never paid much mind to it—a silver chain that ended in a small cross and a rose, Chrome Hearts style. And that was Taeyong's favorite brand. Mark rarely wears jewelry, yet you have a vague memory of it hanging off his neck the last time you were together. It takes you a second to put two and two together; your heart finally ends up breaking into two pieces.

"I'm sorry." The tears reach your chin. "I took all the trash out."

Mark follows your finger pointing to the window, from which you can see the large garbage containers on the side of the street. Then he turns his head to the left, in the direction of the clock that reads almost twelve at night. He knows that the truck comes around eleven at night to collect all the bags, and he almost always misses it because he's sleeping and ends up accumulating all the trash in the room. Both you and him know everything is gone by the time, including Mark's memory of Taeyong.

He breaks into a desperate cry, which pierces the air and makes your ears and chest ache with his grief. It's so full of anguish, like you've never seen him before, not even when you were burying his friend together.

It takes him to the ground and makes him roll and move, tug at his clothes and his hair violently like he's trying to take the pain off his body, trying to escape the misery. You try to reach out to him to try and comfort him, still a bit in shock since you were the one that caused him this pain. But he doesn't want you near him; he lets you know by slapping you away from his body and throwing everything he finds around him in your direction.

So you step back, clearly afraid he might hurt you in this state. Mark can sense the fear, and the last thing he wants in the world is to hurt you and put you away from him too. Losing you like it happened with his childhood best friend Donghyuck, like it happened with Taeyong, like it happened with Johnny. But he can't tell you. Nothing can come out of his mouth more than those uncontrollably sobs and screams of pain. He can't clear his mind right now.

"I'm sorry," you keep saying while you get dressed and start picking up your things in a rush. "I'm sorry, please forgive me."

He's sitting on the floor, legs curled up to his chest, back to the end of the bed while his arms hang limb to his sides, defeated and body drained from all its energy. His entire face is wet with sweat and tears, and he cries looking at the dirty ceiling.

When you've already left and find yourself in the open corridor, a few room's down from Mark's, guilt washes over your body: you too left him alone, just like you know he's scared of. You manage to take your phone out of your pocket and dial the first number on your recents list with shaky hands.

The need to cry only increases when you hear his voice on the other side of the phone.

"Can you please come by Mark's? Please?" You cover your mouth with one hand trying to hold back the sobs. "I can't deal with this anymore, Yuta. I'm sorry. It's–Mark and I are never gonna work out. It's out of control–"

"Take your car and come home," his voice is soft and calm, despite the rushing sounds in the background. You know he's dropping everything to go where Mark is staying. "Come home and wait for me here, no matter how long it takes."

You nod in response, even when Yuta can't see you through the call.

"And don't worry about Mark, I got him."

4. Gotta let you go/Since you've been gone I've been having withdrawal

The dead had to be visited when they were alive, was what your mother used to say when you were little. The cemetery was never a place that she liked very much, for she never took you to visit and leave flowers for your old, dead uncles and grandparents.

You believe your mother's rejection of the dead had to do with the fear of death itself. The refusal to accept the inevitable: we will all end up right here one day. Under different circumstances, ones having lived longer than others, but dead at last. Even though you believed you had no problem accepting this, entering the place on this spring morning was becoming incredibly difficult. While it's normal to have grandparents dead when you grow up, it never feels normal to lose someone so close to your age.

You can't expect to meet anyone in particular, but you know that at least the vast majority of his friends will be there. It's the anniversary of Taeyong's death, and the morning is fresh. The sun is shining and the roses planted in the park have bloomed, as if they knew they were his favorites. This should be reason enough to walk through the gates and go lay out some flowers for him, as a way of saying thank you for such a splendid day.

The walk up to the place is quiet enough to boggle your mind a bit. The last couple of months you've been working on yourself, trying to stop overthinking things and rebuilding your self-esteem little by little. Mark and you haven't seen each other again after that big fight and after you left the place he was staying. Yuta did God's work that night, and you know Johnny and the rest of the guys helped him the following days—and months. You just stayed out of it. No one really wanted it, no one agreed to it. But it naturally happened, because deep down both of you knew it was the best outcome. Mark understood you had to go away in order for both of you to heal.

It wasn't an easy process.

"Am I a bad person for doing this to him?"

"Well, it's hard to tell what's good or bad, because it depends on who's saying it," the therapist replied.

You looked down as soon as he started talking to you, avoiding his eyes. You remember that you thought you were not going to cry in your first session, that it was going to be difficult to let go and talk about everything that had been hurting you lately. However, as soon as you sat down on his couch, tears began to roll down your cheeks.

"But how do your decisions make you feel?"

"I feel selfish."

It took you a while to learn that looking after yourself wasn't a selfish thing to do, but a completely valid way to maintain your sanity. That you needed to set boundaries with the people you love the most, because even they might hurt you, and because you might end up hurting yourself. It doesn't necessarily mean they are bad people that want to cause you pain, but humans that make mistakes and that are constantly learning how to deal with each other.

Pain is needed. Boundaries are needed. Communication is needed. Self-love is needed. We learn some of the most valuable things of life from all that.

Johnny is the first one to see you arrive. He receives you in silence, with a small smile and a hug. The next to repeat his actions is Jaehyun. Finally, Yuta presses you against his torso and you stay like that for a little longer. The soft skin of his arms envelops you; it's warm and he feels just as safe as you remember. His scent is an odd combination of cotton softener, a manly scent of pine, and cigarettes.

You will be the most grateful to Yuta, forever. He knew where you belonged from the beginning, and helped you clarify your mind to come here and speak to Mark. Not expecting anything, but knowing that whatever would result from that talk should be the best for the two of you.

You can perceive his heart is beating fast, but definitely not as fast as yours when Yuta breaks the hug, looks into your eyes and then to Mark, who is still sitting in front of Taeyong's grave and oblivious to everything that is happening behind him.

The concrete of the bench feels considerably cold compared to the rest of the environment when you sit next to him. There's a moment when you just dedicate yourself to reading Taeyong's name, over and over again on the plate.

It hasn't been easy and it will never be. It makes you rethink things. Decisions, habits, vices, relations. Coming to terms with the death of someone so close to your age. It could be any of you at any moment, so you guess your mother was right: spend time with your loved ones as much as you can while they're alive.

Mark's eyes grow heavy on your profile and you are forced to meet them. He definitely looks healthier. He has recovered some weight, his dark circles have almost completely disappeared, and his hair is back to its natural color, sporting a fresh undercut.

Most impressive, however, is the way he smiles at you and proceeds to lay his head on your shoulder. He lets out a sigh and somehow you feel relieved—he's not mad at you. In fact, he seems to feel fine, comfortable enough to approach you like that. You can't help but let out a deep sigh as well.

He's the first one to talk since you arrived.

"Hi."

"Hi," you reply, almost in a whisper. As if you were to raise your voice, all that harmony would dissipate in an instant.

"I wasn't expecting you." You feel Mark's voice vibrate through your body and reach your ears. It sends a shiver down your spine.

You have missed him so much. The past months have truly been a torture, but you didnt realize how much you needed to feel him this close, to listen to his voice, until this very moment.

"I was hesitant to come."

Mark lifts his head from your shoulder and stares at you for what seems like a minute or two. In a profound way, as if he was looking for something in your eyes, but as if he was gathering the courage to open his mouth and break your heart once and for all, giving this story a true closure. Perhaps about to do what should have happened a long time ago.

He just nods and says, "I'm sorry."

And you wait for it to come. For him to tell you that he's fully recovered now, that he doesn't need you, that you can go and live your life freely with whoever you want and that he will do the same.

"You know that night… The night we had the fight."

"Yes?"

"I said racing was the only thing making me feel alive."

You don't remember it so clearly at first. That night was quite traumatic, so you have to recapitulate and swallow the lump that forms in your throat remembering the events, and how everything about your relationship with Mark exploded in your face.

"I lied," he continues after a pause. "It was being with you. And I was afraid of hurting you and losing you, and I didn't want to lose you because you were the most important thing I had. But that's what ended up happening and–"

Mark can't finish his sentence, so he takes a deep breath. A cigarette appears between his lips, and it's when he struggles to light it up when you notice how abstained he is and how hard he's fighting it, by the incessant shaking of his hands and his sweating. He lets the smoke out of his lungs looking at the grave, remaining silent until he decides he's calmed down enough.

"I really loved you at that time," Mark says and shares the cigarette with you. "I–I still do. I really, seriously don't need you to take care of me anymore. But I want you to be with me."

He says this last sentence reconnecting with your eyes, looking at you the same way he did earlier, when you expected him to break your heart for good. He turns over his shoulder and looks at the boys one by one, who have been watching your exchange in silence until now.

"All of you," and he finishes.

Johnny pats Mark's shoulder and smiles fondly at him, giving him a little squeeze of comfort. "You'll always have us, no matter what happens."

5. Loving you almost feels like something

"And with this," Johnny starts as he places the last box at the entry of your apartment, "I get closer to being completely free for once."

"Dude," Mark tries and fails to sound upset, "can you not be so happy about me leaving your place? You're making me hurt. Like, you could at least lie about you being sad or missing me."

"But I never lie."

Jaehyun's deep laugh is present next to Johnny and he decides to speak, looking at Mark who is now hung up on you, more and more affectionate with you in front of the boys since you formalized your relationship.

"Baby's leaving the nest. Now it's just you and me, Johnny."

Since Mark was moving in with you and Yuta was leaving for Japan, it only left Jaehyun and Johnny at the Suhs' old house. The oldest was happy, because it meant he wouldn't have other three boys going in and out of the place carelessly every time he tries to bring other people home. Johnny loved the boys enormously, but they were all grown now. Maybe it was time they all found their own place to live and just do whatever they want. Jaehyun, however, seems like has no plans of leaving Johnny alone, at least for a little longer.

"Maybe we should become a married couple."

Johnny questions Jaehyun with his eyes for a couple seconds, but after what seemed like the gears of his brain working at full speed, he ends up agreeing. "That could be pretty convenient, actually. Would you cook for me?"

"You know I don't cook."

"Then forget about it."

You and Mark watch the exchange from the outside and can't help but laugh, because they're basically acting like an old married couple already.

"Alright guys," Mark claps his hands to get the boys' attention. "Thank you so much for your help, but I'll be kicking you out now to go celebrate with my girl. You know, all that boyfriend and girlfriend stuff…" He accompanied them with gestures, telling them to walk through the front door.

"Yes, we get it Mark," Johnny answered in a mocking tone. "You've got a girlfriend and you're fucking on every surface of this apartment. And I'm leaving with Jae, and we're getting stoned and going to sleep at seven. So much fun."

"Fuck you, John. Mark, work tomorrow, seven in the morning." Is all Jaehyun says as he leaves your apartment, only to keep bickering with Johnny all the way to the car.

As the afternoon sun falls and filters through the balcony door, the aroma of onion and tomatoes fills the small kitchen and your nostrils, making your stomach rumble a little. The melody of a guitar reaches your ears; it sounds soft and melancholic, the scratching of the fingers against the strings only gives it a rawer tone. You decide to leave the sauce finishing simmering, and you approach the room that you will now be sharing with Mark. You find him sitting there, on the bed, guitar in hand, facing the window with his back to the door. His subtle singing accompanies the chords on the guitar.

You can't remember when was the last time you saw Mark like this. So calm and relaxed. Music has always been his passion, ever since you met him in high school, so seeing him take up the hobby he loves so much and enjoy it brings tears to your eyes.

The words that come out of his mouth form a lump in your throat.

When no ones around me, you lost and found me

I was surrounded

With open arms

He keeps playing and singing softly, without noticing your presence.

Even though it's only been a couple of hours since you finished moving, he's already made your room a bit of his own. It seems that he has stopped in the middle of the task, that he amused himself with the guitar because most of the boxes of clothes are unpacked, the side of the wardrobe that you freed for him with only a couple of blue jeans and t-shirts in place.

On the night table rests Mark's perfume, an ashtray along with his cigarette box, and a couple of books under it. There are two sets of matching keys besides the table now—you had to make a copy for him, since it's his house too. His shoes are at the front door, and they will remain there every day. And Mark's slippers are on the edge of the bed you'll share, next to an open shoe box that catches your eye.

"What is this?"

Mark turns around to look at your face, then at the film camera and a bunch of developed pictures in your hands. A fond smile takes over his mouth.

"Taeyong was a romantic," he says, coming to stand next to you and starting to inspect the pictures. "You know, when he left we decided to divide the things that were important to Taeyong," Mark kept explaining to you. "We gotta fulfill his dreams, keep him alive that way."

"And what are you doing for Taeyong?"

"I'm dropping everything for love. For a calm and happy life."

The answer takes you by surprise, you can't hide it. The tears that had begun to accumulate since you heard Mark sing on the guitar come to the edge of your eyelids, uncontrollable, and threaten to fall at any moment.

"You know Taeyong loved danger and drama… But he really wanted to settle down with someone at some point," he continues speaking immediately. "And I kept these.

Mark takes all the developed films from your hands and starts looking at them with you. Shortly after, he says, "He loved to document the happy moments.

The pictures show various scenarios and all the boys are in there. In some pics it's just Johnny smiling under the sun, in others it's just Mark and Taeyong on a night's out, in others there's Jaehyun having breakfast with Taeyong, or Yuta and Mark acting foolish, totally like Yuta and Mark.

"But if you notice, it's just us living life together," he finishes the idea, melancholy invading his face, and his eyes also fill with tears.

However, you are sure that none of you are really sad. In fact, the horizon has never looked so bright for the two of you. There is no more fear, no more guilt, no more uncertainty.

"I think this is a happy moment," you say, picking up the camera and turning it on. "You and me together, settling down for a good life. You think Taeyong would've documented this?"

Mark smiles big and nods.

"Yeah, I think he would have."

After focusing on Mark in front of the camera, and with the evening light behind him painting the whole room a warm orange, you press the shutter. A not very powerful flash comes out of the camera, but it does its work illuminating those parts the warm light won't reach, and it indicates that the photo has been taken. Mark asks for the camera and does the exact same for you.

"I'm sure he's happy, and really proud of you, Mark," you say as you wrap your arms around his body.

Your ear on his chest even allows you to hear his heartbeat, which is unusually fast. Mark takes a big breath of air that moves his entire body and yours, also trapped in his arms. A warm feeling invades you, embraces your heart and awakens butterflies in your stomach. His heartbeat becomes softer, and his voice, smooth but full of honesty and pride, resonates throughout your body.

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

Mark was once the most careful of all. An incredibly strong and humble young man that thought could have the world in his hands. He had to completely lose control over everything he knew once to know fear, to know grief, to know guilt, to finally find healthy love and forgiveness. To others, but most important to himself.

"But, babe," Mark breaks the hug to raise his head and sniff in the direction of the kitchen. "Don't you think something is burning?"

"Shit!" you exclaim and bolt for the kitchen. "The tomato sauce!"

"Yeah, that's why I didn't take Taeyong's dream to pursue cooking." He crosses his arms and rests his body in the doorway, while you fight to save a burnt, almost brown colored tomato sauce by adding a little more puree and water. "I can't cook either."

You quit trying to deal with the sauce. It looks irreparable anyway. "Yeah… Sorry about that, baby."

"We will survive." Mark shrugs, then comes to kiss you affectionately on the cheek. "Wanna order some pizza?"

Thank you so much for reading. If you enjoyed my work, please leave a like, reblog or some feedback. I'd love to read your thoughts!

#nct fanfic #mark lee x reader #mark lee fanfic #mark x reader #zh-lele #candy colored cars #too fast #nct 127 fanfic #mark lee smut #nct smut

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holylulusworld · 8 months

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The cabin in the woods - Kinktober 15

Summary: You only wanted to clean out the family cabin...

Written for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor’s Roo's HalloCream Extravaganza writing challenge. I totally forgot I signed up for the challenge. Sorry, this one took me so long.

My prompt was: While cleaning out the old family cabin, you begin to suspect that someone else has been living there...

Square filled for @buckybarnesbingo: C3: Winter Soldier

Pairing: Winter Soldier x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, creepy vibes, fear, choking (non-sexual), dark winter soldier, no happy ending, implied kidnapping/keeping the reader, irresponsible behavior (driving while being tired)

Trope/Kink: non-sexual choking

Words: 1,3k+

A/N: We are halfway through kinktober. So, we are getting a creepy little story today.

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Exhaustion is taking a toll on you. For days you are traveling across the country to clean your family cabin out. Of course, no one else from your family wanted to help you.

“Fuck,” you struggle to keep your eyes open, while you fight the overwhelming tiredness you are experiencing from driving for too long.

Close to reaching the cabin you don’t want to stop and pay for a rat-infested motel and dirty sheets. Why waste money on something you can have at your family’s cabin too?

“So close,” you yawn and rub your eyes with one hand. Just a few more minutes and you can lay down. Tomorrow you’ll clean out the cabin and be on your way back to civilization and away from memories leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

You shudder at the memory of your last encounter with your grandfather.

Something was wrong with him at that time. Until that day, you remember your grandfather was the most caring person you could imagine. Suddenly he was a completely different person.

Your grandfather yelled at your father, blaming him for a failure. He pushed your father against a wall and almost hit you when you tried to stop him from hurting your father.

Honestly, you didn’t understand half of the things they were talking about. You were barely eight years old.

Another yawn escapes your mouth when you take the small path leading to your family’s cabin. It’s a miracle you made it to the cabin in one piece. “Almost there.”

Slowing the car down you try to park it close to the cabin. It’s already pitch-black, and your eyes are burning from driving for so long.

You kill the engine when you see the front door, illuminated by the headlights of your car.

“Home sweet…whatever.”

Before you get out of the car, you crack your neck. It’s past midnight and you are ready to fall asleep in your seat.

You force yourself to get out of the car and open your trunk to get your bag out.

After a good night's sleep, you’ll start cleaning out the cabin.

Hopefully, it will only take you one or two days. You can hardly wait to drive back home and spend some quality time with your boyfriend.

Stepping inside the dark cabin you use your phone, instead of looking for the flashlight in your trunk. You’re too tired to do more than lock the door behind you and walk straight toward the small bedroom in the back of the cabin.

You drop your bag to the floor and shove your jacket down your shoulders. The last thing you are capable of is kicking your shoes off before lying down on the bed.

Sleep consumes you only minutes later.

The cabin is silent, except for the creaking of the floor, indicating you are not alone…

“No, Mickey…wait,” you groan as your boyfriend refuses to help you clean out the cabin. “The bedroom doesn’t look so bad. It’s rather clean.”

Frowning you look around the room. It’s not a lie. The room looks clean, almost sterile. Now that you think about it, the sheets smelled clean too. There is no dust on the nightstand, and there is a carpet on the floor you have never seen before.

“Wait, I…” your boyfriend hangs up, ending the call before you can talk him into helping you. “Asshole.”

You slowly get up from the bed to have a look around the room. You didn’t imagine things. It should be covered with dust and filth after not having seen any visitors for over ten years.

“Maybe they try to fuck with me. I bet Cara was here with one of her loser boyfriends without telling us so,” you huff. “But they couldn’t clean out the cabin. Great.”

There is no use in moping around. No one will help you clean out the cabin. You’re on your own as so often since your grandparents died in an accident.

After you hastily redressed, you decided to clean out the bedroom first. There wasn’t much you wanted to keep. Only the picture frame from the nightstand and a broken pocket watch you found under the bed. You never saw the watch before, but assume it belonged to your grandfather.

“All done here, let’s get to the other rooms,” you grumble under your breath. You’re still angry at your family, boyfriend, and friends. Everyone let you down this weekend.

As you step inside the living room, you wonder again. It’s as clean as the bedroom. Even the old sheets you put over the couch and armchair are gone.

“I don’t get it. They all said no one was here for years.”

Walking further inside the living room you frown deeply. The picture frames on the shelf above the fireplace are empty. All the pictures of your grandparents and parents are gone.

A cold shiver runs down your spine. Something doesn’t feel right. The cabin is clean, and many things you wanted to take with you are gone.

But there are also new things. Like the carpet in the bedroom and the pocket watch you found under the bed.

Now there is a knife on the coffee table. Not a normal knife. No. This one looks like a combat knife from one of those cheap action movies Mickey loves watching.

“This can’t be,” you try to assure yourself, but your racing heart tells you otherwise. Your flight or fight instinct kicks in. It’s not your imagination. Someone was at your family’s cabin or still is.

“You’re imagining things.” You say a little louder. “I should get the other moving boxes and pack things up.”

Your car keys and phone are in the pocket of your jeans. If only you could make it to the door without running into whoever is hiding at the cabin, you’re out of the woods.

Glancing around the room you try to even your breathing. If you imagined things, so be it. You can come back here with Mickey and your friends next weekend and never tell them you panicked.

If not…

Before you can decide against it, you go for a sprint, running toward the front door. You grab the door handle, tugging at it only to find it still locked.

“Fuck,” fishing the keys out of your pocket you pray that you lost your mind. If not, you just saw a man storm toward you.

“Don’t move!” His hand is around your throat before you get the chance to unlock the door. “What are you doing at my home?”

You claw at his hand, but it’s no use. The hand holding your throat in a tight grip is made of metal. Tears spring from your eyes as his hold on your throat tightens. If only he presses a little tighter, he’ll break your windpipe.

“P-lease,” you trash around, fighting with all you’ve got. “P-“

“Who are you?” He leans closer, cold blue eyes searching your scared face. “Are you with them? Did you come here to kill me?”

You try to shake your head and tell him you’re only here to clean out the cabin, but he won’t listen. “Who are you?”

“Cabi-n…grandpa,” it hurts fighting him. You’re in severe pain, but he won’t let up. He holds your life in his hand, still demanding answers as your ears begin to ring.

You try to scratch his face, neck, or any part of his skin you can reach. You’re dizzy and your head feels like it’s going to explode. The fight is lost. You know it’s only a matter of seconds before you'll lose consciousness.

Breathing feels impossible, and your eyes roll back as he leans closer again to sniff at your hair. “It doesn’t matter who you are, doll.” The man whispers lowly.

The hold on your neck loosens the moment you drift into darkness.

Your body falls against his chest, and he smiles darkly. “I’m going to keep you. It gets lonely up here. I could use some company...”

Tags in reblog.

#winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #buckybarnesbingo2023 #bucky barnes #tw: choking #tw: dark winter soldier #angst #kinktober vs flufftober 2023 #The cabin in the woods - Kinktober 15

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deanbrainrotwritings · 4 months

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— THE LOVE LETTER COLLECTION : SAME BOOK BUT NEVER THE SAME PAGE

SUMMARY : part III of the love letter collection. still dreamwalking. chasing after someone who can destroy worlds. and dean is jealous of his variants. what could go wrong?

PAIRING : mario!dean winchester x peach!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : luigi!sam winchester, lush edryx (ofc), toad!castiel, jack kline

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, fluff, real physics, theoretical physics

WORD COUNT : 5.6k

A/N : a day to remember song title. this fills the dramatic death square for my @jacklesversebingo card. this was inspired by the second season of What if…? My siblings and I used to play Super Mario Sunshine on our GameCube so that’s what this is based on, too. And my physics degree is paying off! 😂 XXXXxx

It all started with Cas suddenly appearing within the Bunker, frantically searching for Sam, Dean, Jack, and Y/n.

To be fair, it was three in the morning and everyone was asleep, so Cas had only found Jack passed out on the kitchen table after another round of Krunch Cookie Brunch in the middle of the night.

The original plan for Jack was to try Y/n’s remedy for not being able to sleep. Warm milk. Of course, she’d meant in a glass. Then, he got hungry being there—surrounded by food, grabbed the blue box of sweet cereal and served himself once. After finishing his cereal, he still had some milk leftover, so he convinced himself easily that to finish the milk he needed one more serving.

He got that from Dean.

Cas sighed at the sight of him, but he was in a hurry. Like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, that’s what he felt like at that moment. So he shook Jack—rather than being gentle—who abruptly sat up, “I didn’t eat it!” He shouted sleepily, his eyes wide and surprised. “Oh, Cas. I thought you were Sam,” he whispered, rubbing sleep from his eyes, much like Dean did.

“I need to find Sam, Dean, and Y/n,” Cas said distractedly.

“But… it’s late,” Jack stated, having flashbacks of Dean pointing a gun at him for waking him while he was deep asleep. “And Dean and Y/n-”

“I’m aware,” Cas interrupted Jack. “This is more important. They can have coffee.”

“Erm,” Jack hesitated, but Cas was already making his way out of the kitchen, his beige trench coat billowing behind him. It reminded Jack of Snape, but he shook his head from the distraction and quickly cleaned up before he got scolded by Sam for being ‘unhealthy’.

Meanwhile, Cas bursted through Sam’s bedroom, the door cracking loudly against the wall, that it alone woke Sam. The gun was quickly in Sam’s hands and the bullet that he’d sleepily fired grazed Cas’ shoulder. Cas pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored the messy nest that was Sam’s hair.

“Sam, I’ve got a case,” Cas declared bluntly.

“What the hell, man? It’s-” Sam looked towards his clock by the nightstand with squinted eyes, heavy with sleep. The time glared at him in green, made him groan and fall back into bed. “It’s three in the morning, couldn’t it wait?” Sam turned over onto his stomach, uninterested, and held his pillow to his face, knowing that Cas was not going to let him go back to sleep.

“This is important. Every second that goes by, catastrophic things can occur,” Cas attempted to explain.

“Yeah?” Sam asked sarcastically, at the end yawning. “That’s life. We’ll take care of it in the morning.” To emphasise that he was going back to sleep, he lifted his knee to the side and wiggled around until he was back in his original position.

“I know that,” Cas enunciated with irritation, “this is really complicated and I’d like for all of you to be awake to hear what I have to say so that I don’t have to repeat myself.” Sam groaned loudly into his pillow and then sat up swiftly to glare at Cas.

“Oh my god,” he complained, combing his fingers through his unkempt hair in an attempt to fix it. “You know what? Fine, but if Dean gives you the cold shoulder for a month—again, don’t expect any sympathy from me,” Sam warned grumpily, getting out of bed to get ready to meet Cas in the library.

Cas gave Sam a deadpan stare and walked out without a word to find Dean and Y/n.

When he made it to Dean’s room, Cas was far gentler with the door. He held it open rather than letting fly open and hit the wall, the way he let happen with Sam. He watched the two figures in Dean’s bed and tilted his head at the sight of Dean practically draped over his girlfriend’s back.

Cas let go of the door and stood there awkwardly trying to see better in the darkness. He could see that the sheets were a mess around them and Y/n was curled up slightly, nearly at the edge of the bed. Cas assumed Dean either pushed her all the way over there or that he was holding onto her so tightly so that she wouldn’t fall. Maybe both.

Dean was snoring softly, had one arm wrapped tightly around her front and his legs were tangled with hers. Cas didn’t think it looked very comfortable for Y/n, but she was in a deep sleep, completely undisturbed by both the sounds coming from Dean, the lack of coverage with a warm blanket in the cool room, and the lack of personal space Dean was giving her. What a hypocrite.

Cas knew though, it was different when the two of them invaded each other’s personal space, than if it were him or someone else being that close to them. Dean would go ballistic if anyone else stood that close to her, not that she’d ever allow that to happen, she gets irritated easily by other people.

Cas found that strange, too. The way she despised certain traits or habits in others—she made it very clear, verbally—but forgave them in Dean. Perhaps that is love. Compromise. Chaos. Irrationality…

The lights in the hallway turned on and Cas knew it was Sam who turned them on and was now up properly. The light allowed Cas to see much better into Dean’s room, with the light pouring in from the hallway.

Cas tried to think of something to wake them that would not make Dean and Y/n too angry. He looked around Dean’s room, clothes were strewn on the floor and Dean had his record player on, just static now that the needle was up. It didn’t take very long for Cas to deduct what had happened. Sex.

They were both naked, Cas could see now. He flushed and averted his gaze, then quickly made his way to the record player, dropped the needle, and put the volume as high as it would go. Led Zeppelin’s Baby Come on Home blared through the room causing Dean to jolt up sleepily, finally disturbing his peacefully asleep girlfriend.

She whined Dean’s name and Dean froze when he saw Cas standing by the record player. Cas stumbled and turned it off swiftly, smiling nervously at Dean who was now glaring at him. Part of Cas wanted to laugh at the state of Dean’s hair, one side was flat, the other side was a mess, and the top was just sticking up.

“Dude, what the hell?” Dean whispered aggressively, struggling to lift the tangled sheets to cover up Y/n’s naked body. She turned over onto her stomach and threw her arms around Dean’s waist, grumbling for him to sleep again and hold her. Instead, Dean dropped his hand over her head, buried his fingers into her sex hair, and gently massaged her scalp. She hummed appreciatively and squeezed her arms around him gently.

“Uh… I’m sorry,” Cas apologised slowly. “It’s an emergency and I need her help. It’s about a case, we’ve been working on it together,” Cas explained, then dropped his eyes hesitantly to the small body tangled in Dean’s sheets.

“What?” Dean asked, no longer playing with her hair. She groaned softly at the loss, so Dean started up again very slowly. “Since when? Why didn’t you guys tell me?” Cas sighed exasperatedly and Dean’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the sassiness exuding from his best friend.

“Okay, fine,” she finally spoke up, struggling adorably to get up, not caring that she was flashing Cas with her naked body when she turned to face him. “Go, I’ll be there with Dean.”

“Woah, hey,” Dean complained, grabbing her breasts in his hands. She laughed and Cas only became more flustered. “Dude,” Dean said, silently holding a conversation with Cas.

“Right,” Cas averted his gaze and stepped backwards out of their room. “Just, please don’t have sex like you guys always do when we have something important to do,” Cas pleaded. Dean glared at Cas halfheartedly, feigning offence, but knowing very well that it was usually Dean who initiated it and delayed their appearance.

Dean began to splutter a blush growing on his face. “We have never d-”

“Save it, Dean,” Y/n snorted softly with a laugh, “yes, we have.” Cas nodded—tried and failed to hold back a smile—and left them to get ready. “I’m so sleepy,” she whined, leaning into Dean’s side. He slipped out from the embrace he had her in and ignored her pout to settle between her thighs with a smug smirk.

He pushed her gently onto her back and leaned over her, giving her a big kiss on her forehead. She laughed, held his jaw gently in her hand to kiss him lazily, and pushed her fingers friskily into his already messy hair.

He moaned softly and pulled away, snickering.

“What?” She asked, brushing his hair with her hands and fingers to make it look better. Even if he looked adorable with it messy. She bit her lip and traced his cheekbone with her thumb.

“We should be late, y’know, just to keep up with our tradition,” he grinned boyishly. She looked away from his freckles cheek and the cute eye-bag that was more prominent on this side of his face. She raised a brow, opening her mouth to say her piece, except she could only laugh.

He scowled, leaning forward to press his face against her neck, and laid down on her to stop her laughter. Dean grabbed her thighs to lift them so she’d wrap them around his waist. He bit his lip and squeezed her tightly. She whined in protest, lazily and weakly attempting to push him off her.

Her heart began racing and heat grew between her legs. The way he moved his lips down her neck, placing wet kisses across her skin, didn’t help her fight between what she wanted from him, and what Cas wanted from her.

“You don’t look like you want me to stop,” he murmured with a smirk against her breasts.

“I don't want you to,” she agreed quietly, “that’s why… I’m hoping you'd be nice to me and get off before we waste sweet time doing awesome… stuff.”

He chuckled against her skin and lathed her nipple up in saliva, needily tugging at it before getting off her. He slid his hands down her sides and groaned at the sight of her, fighting with himself to get up and get changed.

“I was just trying to wake us up,” he pouted, reaching beneath her to cup her ass and squeeze. “I just need five minutes,” he offered, lifting her hips up suggestively. Her heart leapt excitedly, her stomach flipping when he started to shuffle forward on his knees, his cock nudging her folds.

“Nah, you can’t change your mind more than once,” she told him playfully, wagging a finger at him with a huge smile. She sat up to wrap her arms around his waist, trying to make him feel better, and pulled him with her as she got off the bed. He groaned and followed her reluctantly to get ready.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean chuckled dryly, leaning over the table with his palm on the surface, gazing at his girlfriend. “You’ve been working on the case the other me’s were talking about before we left?” She leaned forward and placed her hand over his, perfectly showcasing the ring he had given to her just three months ago.

She inhaled, then exhaled. Dean braced himself. He expected a lie, an explanation.

“Yes,” she told him bluntly. He appreciated the truth, but he scoffed, and gripped her hand—the one with the ring on it. He brushed his thumb gently over her knuckles, his verdant eyes wide, filled with confusion and hurt.

“We’ve never had this problem before,” Dean frowned at her, it made her tilt her head in regret, “it’s why Sam, and Cas, and literally everyone keeps you out of plans if it involves lying to me…” Dean paused and released her hand gently, realisation dawned on him. “It was that other me, right? That’s why it’s different…”

Sam quickly began to escort Cas and Jack out of the library, the three of them moving out quietly to give them space. Neither of them said anything about their departure, instead Y/n took Dean’s hand again.

“Look,” she sighed, tugging him to stand between her legs. “No matter what reason I give for hiding this from you, you’re gonna poke holes into my logic, and I’m gonna realise you’re right…” She looked up at him, opened his palm, kissing the callouses there lovingly. “We’re in this together now, I should’ve thought about that before hiding this from you. I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean cupped her face with both of his hands, taking her words into consideration as he looked into her earnest, soft eyes. He’d never been lied to by her, which was exactly why he couldn't help the hurt in his chest. Still, he leaned forward and kissed her on her lips, slowly, barely feeling her response, before pulling away with his eyes closed.

“Don’t do it again,” he murmured, sliding his hand down her neck. He brushed his thumb against her collarbone, gazing down at the ashamed expression on her face. It didn’t make him feel better, he knew something was off the past month, but he thought it was the wedding plans that were distracting her.

She placed her hand over his and nodded wordlessly.

“I’m gonna go get them,” she told him quietly, squeezing his hand before getting out of his grasp and walking away to give Dean a few minutes to think and let the information sink in.

Dean watched her go and took the seat she got up from as he thought about what she’d done. It’s not like… she’d be unfaithful. He knew she would never do that. And she knew him so well she didn’t give an excuse, but he’d like to hear one now, just to understand why she didn’t let him know.

“Okay.. so, the Dean stuff was good to know,” Sam breathed in and then exhaled as he entered the room with Cas, Jack, and Y/n. “But… I mean… whatever Lush is doing is… kinda confusing. It’s Lush, right?” Sam asked, giving his brother a glance to make a quick assessment of his mood.

“Yes,” Cas answered.

“So, I can use jars of sand as a metaphor or the human body metaphor, which one?” Y/n asked Sam, then glanced at Dean with a tight smile. He gave her a soft one in response.

“Start with the sand, and if we don’t understand the first one, try the human body,” Sam answered for Dean. She excitedly clapped her hands together and stepped towards where both can see her.

“Well, let’s say one grain of sand is our current universe: all the stars, the galaxies, dimensions, y’know the makeups of one single universe,” she began, pinching her fingers together. “But if you have a jar of sand, that’s a multiverse. A second grain of sand would be the universe with Hunter Corp, and a third grain of sand would be the universe Micahel destroyed. Still with me?” She stopped waving her hands around, her eyes drifting away as she became engrossed with her explanation.

“Yeah, yeah… grains of sand as an alternate reality, universe, parallel or whatever…” Sam quickly replied, almost with the same enthusiasm as her. Dean wished he could join in, but part of him was still hung up on her omission.

“Yes, exactly,” she smiled at Sam. “Well, a whole shelf of jars would be the omniverse. Every multiverse-”

“Every multiverse? Like… what do you mean?” Sam interrupted, frowning. He was clearly overwhelmed with excitement as he ran his fingers through his long hair, hazel eyes adrift before focusing on her once more.

“Well, one jar of sand would be our multiverse. A second jar of sand would be… the Doctor Who Universe, ya know? And a third would be… a Hunger Games universe. Every jar of sand would be a movie, show, book. Oh, it’s so awesome,” she sighed, leaning over the table with both her hands flat on the wooden surface.

Cas and Jack stared between them, dumbfounded.

“Wow, yeah, that’s… a lot,” Sam sighed, pulling a chair out to sit down. He thought quietly to himself, chewing on his lip. “You said… every book, does that include maybe.. short stories?” He asked suddenly, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. She lifted a brow.

“Yes..? You have something specific in mind?”

“You know… the stories people write about… me… and Dean?” He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. Y/n burst out laughing after hearing the question, almost ignoring the disgust on Sam and Dean’s faces.

“Gross, man,” Dean grimaced, crossing his arms over his chest, looking away.

“Okay, sorry,” Y/n brought herself to say between laughter. She wiped tears from her eyes and dried her fingers on her jeans. “No, yeah, that’s a good question,” she sighed with an amused expression, “anyway… no, those types of stories exist outside of the main multiverse, floating in the omniverse. They’re typically unstable—fleeting, and they collapse in on themselves,” she explained sincerely, an expression of relief while over Sam’s face.

“How come?” Sam inquired, leaning over the table with his fingers entwined together.

“Well, back to jars of sand. The jars are sealed; that makes it an isolated system—nothing gets in and nothing gets out. Nothing new can be created besides what’s already inside. The omniverse, however, is not an isolated system. When someone creates a book, movie, show, or whatever… if it’s… you know.. Popular and strong enough to not collapse in on itself in the omniverse-”

“If we could get to the main point…” Cas pleaded, interrupting their conversation. She looked over at Cas and pouted playfully—it almost made him laugh. She focused anyway, with a roll of her eyes.

“Right, well, Lush Edryx is breaking those ‘isolated system’ rules by hopping multiverse after multiverse. None of us knows what she's trying to find, but she keeps destroying everything in her quest—or almost destroying everything—which means we need to stop her,” Y/n got to the point, staring at Cas with a glint of mischief.

“How did she get so powerful?” Sam asked, gazing from her to Jack.

“Well, every multiverse has its own God, Darkness, Lucifer… and all that… Jack thinks that for Lush’s multiverse, the Darkness gave her the ability to travel from multiverse to multiverse. We just can’t find out what they’re looking for. We just know where she’s currently headed. Well, Cas and Jack know,” she started to ramble, carefully scratching the table with her nails mindlessly.

“How can we help if none of us has those kinds of powers?” Sam questioned, leaning back in his chair.

“Well, technically Quetzalcoatl is my descendant, which means Jack can make it so that I can hop multiverses too,” Y/n mumbled thoughtfully.

“Who now?” Dean finally spoke up.

“Please, no more questions,” Cas begged once more, his head tipping back in irritation.

Sam chuckled, leaning forward again. “How can we help?”

“Well, we can possess our multiverse variants and omniverse variants, and they already gave me permission so… what do you guys say?” Y/n asked, drumming the table with her fingers enthusiastically.

“Let’s do it,” Sam shrugged, looking over at Dean who nodded in agreement.

“I see why you were excited,” Dean grumbled, poking the green grass with a stick. Sam looked up at the bright blue sky with squinted eyes. Cas and Y/n looked ahead, eyes peeled for what they were searching for. For who they were searching for.

“Hmm?” She asked, looking down at Dean in his Mario outfit. She grinned once their gazes met and he rolled his eyes at her, a cute smile on his face. No words had to be spoken, she knew that he knew it amused her to finally be taller than him.

“So, he’s taller than you in your universe?” Cas asked, taking her attention from her quieter-than-usual boyfriend. Well, it wasn’t their Cas, it was this universe’s version of Cas, Toad. She smiled down at him brightly, it felt amazing to do so.

“Yup,” she said, putting emphasis on the ‘p’. “And you’re way cuter here. I could take a bite out of you,” she snickered, lifting her pink dress as she walked down the hill awkwardly with Dean, Sam, and Cas. Or should she say, Mario, Luigi, and Toad? That would be confusing because they look nothing like the originals, except for Toad, Cas, whatever.

“Please don’t,” Toad pleaded, frowning. Dean took her hand to help her down, it made her flush. He looked so cute.

“Of course not,” she murmured warmly, squeezing Dean’s hand. Before he could look at her, she spoke up. “So, how far until we get there?” She asked impatiently, looking around endless mushrooms of all colours, shapes, and sizes.

“Not too far,” Cas reassured her.

“How come we didn’t just come in our normal bodies?” Dean asked, jogging to catch up with her. “Wouldn’t it be easier? We’d have an advantage in our original bodies.” She slowed down, brushing her fingers with Dean’s for him to take if he wanted. He took her hand fully, holding it gently in his, a single touch making her breathless.

“Well, puppeteering or possession is less dangerous since it’s not a permanent link to the realities we go to. This way, there’s a smaller chance that we’ll cause destruction… y’know unlike Lush who’s actively invading what’s supposed to be an isolated system.” Dean mulled over her words silently, squeezing her hand.

“Well, we won’t have to fight Boswer or anything, right?” Sam asked, moving her attention away from Dean and to him.

“No fighting. We’re going in the opposite direction to find a Mega Mushroom,” Cas reassured him, still on high alert for any movement from sneaky mushrooms.

“Which is what Lush is after according to… Jack and Cas,” Y/n added, scoping the area with Dean.

They’d been searching for a while now. Long enough for her to have become bored with her surroundings, the thrill of feeling, seeing, smelling, tasting… all of everything amazing around her had died as the search for the Mega Mushroom began to take longer than she would’ve liked.

She even went back to thinking about wedding cake flavours. Dean’s so… adorable. He wants a confetti cake. She’d indulge him in any way possible, but she was torn between serious flavours such as honey, strawberry and rhubarb, and white chocolate raspberry.

And the colour scheme; Dean’s thinking of a soft pink, blush, watermelon, salmon… but all she can think of is matching everything to the green of his eyes, the gold of his freckles, the honey of his hair… completely ethereal colours that symbolise his beauty and her love for everything that he is.

The guest list wasn’t a problem at all, for obvious reasons, and neither was the music, but the location, the reception… If she could just stop being so worried about Lush, the omniverse, all the Deans, and everything else, she was sure she could help Dean out a little more. He was doing a fantastic job on his own—which wasn’t surprising. Of course he’d adapt perfectly to the situation-

“Oh, shit,” Dean whispered, tightening his grip on her hand to stop her from walking. She froze, her focus returning with the rustle in the tall green grass besides Dean.

“Princess, Mario has to capture it,” Toad explains, “erm, I mean, Dean,” he corrected himself quietly, prying the lovers’ intertwined hands apart as the rustle got further away.

Dean nodded, looking to his girlfriend who smiled at him encouragingly, before he quietly began sneaking through the grass, rapidly getting accustomed to his surroundings and his body.

“He’s shorter than me here, more than usual,” Sam joked from behind her. She giggled quietly, turning back to look at Sam dressed in a Luigi outfit. He was once more, taller than Dean, but not taller than her. He had a silly smile on his face, pleased with his joke—as any sibling would be.

“He could probably still beat us in a fight,” she teased, climbing mushrooms to get to the biggest one. Sam and Toad followed her to the highest point, trying to find the red of Dean’s cute little hat in the waves of long green blades.

“Good point,” Sam laughed once he stood beside her. “Over by that butt looking mushroom,” Sam pointed to where Dean was pouncing on something and jumping. She laughed at Sam’s accurate description of the mushroom, at Dean once she found him again running in circles.

To live far away from her world would be nice. This place seems nice. But the last thing she wanted was to kill innocent lives and destroy innocent worlds. Had she lost everything the way that other Dean did, she’d imagine she’d commit a billion atrocities to find her happiness—even if it was wrong. Is that what Lush was doing? Trying to find happiness?

This was not the way to go, but then, she’d be a hypocrite to argue against it out loud. She knows in her heart just what she’s willing to do for her family, for Dean, for those she loves… She has the power, the opportunity to take what she wants. It might be worse than what Lush is doing.

“Guys?” Sam asked to get hers and Toad’s attention. He got closer to the edge before jumping down and running towards Dean, calling his name multiple times.

It was only afterwards, when she looked away from Dean that she saw a much larger rustle within the grass. Large enough to be human-human rather than video-game-human. It was headed towards the same orange mushroom Dean was after, but Dean noticed the rustle, too.

Y/n quickly made her way quickly to help the two brothers, with Toad shouting some advice to her, which was pretty helpful in reminding her that she could use stuff from this world to help Dean and Sam. She slapped grass away from her face and lifted her pink dress so she wouldn't trip on it, running as fast as she could on heeled boots.

Dean abandoned the Mega Mushroom and Sam was close behind to catch what she figured could only be another Toad or Lush. A set of piercing blue eyes and a head of white hair rose from the green grass, removing a Toad as a suspect. It was Lush, who was focused on the Mega Mushroom while attempting to evade Dean, but when she noticed she’d been spotted, she tackled the Mushroom, gripping it by its leg before shoving it into her satchel aggressively.

Lush ran from Dean, towards the closest green pipe to escape from them, but before she could jump in, Y/n threw an ice ball at her from the pocket of her dress. The ice grew upwards, trapping her legs to the ground. She pulled something from her bag, a jar full of brown sludge and threw at Dean, the closest to her.

The glass broke at Dean’s feet. He stopped too late, causing the brown mud to splash over him. Y/n threw a second ice ball at her feet, watching it grow higher up Lush’s torso. Y/n was closer to Dean who started to grunt in pain, the brown mud sticking to him no matter how much he tried shaking it away.

While Toad finally caught up to them and tended to Dean by pouring water onto him, Y/n and Sam pried the bag away from Lush.

“Give it back!” She shouted, the ice cracking at her torso, but Y/n was quick to create a portal a few feet away, and threw the bag into it. It shut immediately after the bag fell through, which made all the fight slip from Lush.

It was as if she only now realised they were all there. She analysed them curiously, silently—confused more than anything. She didn’t recognize them, which was good. It’s why Jack and Cas didn’t come along, she’d recognise them.

“Why are you doing this?” Sam asked, stepping back as the ice cracked more and more, falling to the grass and dirt where it slowly melted. Instead of answering, she broke out of the ice and jumped into the pipe before Y/n or Sam could stop her.

“God dammit, that shit hurts!” Dean complained loudly. “I’m pretty sure it’s fiery, acidic shit! It’s brown!” He continued to whine, shoving away the bottle Toad kept using to squirt water on him, washing away the muck completely.

“Dammit,” Y/n muttered, but brushed it off to check on Dean who was still wincing dramatically, curled up on the ground while Toad searched his backpack. Was that thing bigger on the inside? She kneeled beside him and smiled down at him, taking his hand in hers. “You’re gonna be fine,” she reassured him, lifting his hand to her cheek.

“I forgive you. You know that?” Dean coughed, softening her smile. “I can’t stay mad at you, I love you so much. But I need to know why you hid it from me.” He groaned once more, clutching his stomach with his free hand, bringing her face down. She kissed his forehead rather than his lips, bumping the red hat off his head with a nudge of her nose.

She indulged him as she squirmed and wriggled on the ground. With a sigh and a thought sweep over his grimacing face, she responded: “Because… I know you, Dean. You’d throw yourself into the case and then blame yourself for every little bad thing that happens. You’d be unhappy and pressured, and… you’d sacrifice yourself for the whole damn world. I hate that. So I decided to hide it from you because… I’d rather you be stressed out by cake flavours and colour schemes… you know? Pressured by the guest list, the location, and the music… I just want you to be happy, but… I should have been honest, I know, Dean… I truly had your best interest at heart,” she apologised once more, partially amused by Dean who was now laying on his side, squirming despite the sludge being nowhere in sight, absorbed by the dirt.

He looked up at her lovingly, despite having a somewhat different face, it was cute. He was cute. Maybe cuter, with those giant green eyes full of admiration. A flush on his cheeks. She hadn’t looked at herself, but the way he looked at her, more animated, made her feel like a whole universe.

“Fuck Lush,” he whispered, “fuck the Monument, and the omniverse, and heaven, and the monsters, and everything else that tries to get in my way. In our way. I don’t care about the job. Or the mission, or whatever the hell else there is. I don’t care that I’m afraid all the time. I don’t even care that you’ll outlive me. All I know is that right now—as I exist in the same time and space as you, right now and forever, I want to be with you-”

“Don’t tell me all of this when you’re dying,” she interrupted his emotional speech, which made him pout. Toad, or Cas, gave her a heart from his backpack after a few minutes of digging through it, and she interrupted Dean halfway through his speech by shoving it into his mouth. Dean’s brows furrowed, he chewed slowly, and gulped down the heart.

“That’s one way to shut me up,” Dean chuckled after swallowing. Dean slowly sat up, looking at Toad, Sam, the love of his life, then scooped her up in his arms.

“You’re wet,” she giggled, hugging him back. He buried his face in her neck, laughing with her.

“I usually say that to you.” Dean kissed her neck, then pulled away as Sam groaned in disgust.

“You’re right,” she murmured, burying her fingers in his soft hair. “Everything that you said… I feel that way, too. I’ve got all this information in my head that I didn’t have before and I’m ancient in ways that I just don’t feel like I am anymore and.. I know what I want, I know what I need… and I’m not gonna let this, Lush, or anyone else stop me from trying to get it.” She pulled away and smiled at him, remembering they were in different bodies. “Well, I mean… I’d like your consent… but I already know how you feel, so really, I just need you to trust me.”

Instead of answering her, he leaned forward and kissed her glossy, pink lips. One chaste, long kiss that made her smile, fluttery, warm, and breathless.

“Feels weird kissin’ you here,” she mumbled against his mouth.

“You’re still a great kisser,” Dean pulled away with a smirk.

“We didn’t get to stop Lush, or even get to talk to her, but at least we’ve intercepted her satchel…” Sam interrupted their moment. They smiled at each other before turning to Sam. Dean stood up, then helped Y/n up off the wet ground.

“Jack will make sure she can’t come back here…” She reassured Sam, taking Dean’s hand, she took one last look around. Toad smiled at her, a silent goodbye. “Let’s go home.”

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aniesvision · 2 months

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hii anie, I hope you're doing well! 🙏🏻 can I request a johnnie fic where they're going out with friends after a huge fight, the others notice that something is off bc they are different with one another and it's just very angsty but also fluffy? 💞

Other girls (Johnnie G. x f! reader)

warnings: angst, suggestive jokes, crying, drinking, jealousy, I guess that's all!

a/n: heyy, I'm so happy to write my first request, and I just loved the idea!! thank you for sending it, I hope it's good enough 💕 just remembering that english is not my first language so if anything's wrong please correct me 💜

synopsis: basically the request!

🪻🪻🪻

-Are you fucking serious? -I ask, standing from the couch and making my way to his room.

-I said I'm sorry!

Johnnie follows me, watching as I gather my stuff. I was pissed. I've been working hard this last few days and didn't realize spending some days away would result in him talking to another girl non stop to fill the emptiness of my absence. But, he didn't stop talking to her even now that I'm literally right in front of him. I'm not the jealous type, and I know mostly all people he talks to is about business, but I can't deny it stings a little to see him ignoring me to be on his phone talking to another girl.

I don't even respond his apologies, my focus is on getting out of his house and going back to mine. He's just standing by the door, processing what was happening, knowing that arguing with me when I'm like this is the worst the could do. After successfully gathering all my stuff, I give him a look and pass through him straight to the front door.

-We can talk about it later. -I say, in a serious tone, before leaving.

I drive back to my house, collapsing on my bed as soon as I see it. I didn't want to cry, but I was so mad that the tears were inevitable. I knew from the start that being with Johnnie was going to be difficult. He's famous, he's always busy, he's always with girls around and they're all so beautiful, it's so hard not to compare myself. It's so hard to believe that he wants to be with me sometimes, and it hurts me to know that maybe seeing him so entertained talking to someone else might be the beginning of the end.

I waited until the tears stopped to try and talk to him about it. I wanted to feel a little less angry to avoid making things worse. When I pick up my phone, he was already calling me. I sigh, sitting down and wiping the rest of my tears before answering.

-Hello?

-I'm coming over, we don't need to talk, but you promised you'd be there with me and they're all waiting for you.

I furrow my eyebrows, confused, his tone was low and it was clear that he was upset.

-What?

-Jake's birthday. Tonight's Jake's birthday.

My eyes widen when I realize I totally forgot about it. I stand up, one hand holding the phone against my ear and the other searching for an outfit.

-Yeah, sorry, I forgot, I'm getting ready.

I can hear him sighning on the other line, witch makes me even more upset about forgetting it.

-Right. I'll be there in 20.

He hangs up before I could say anything else. I put my phone on my nightstand and focus on getting ready for the night. Deciding on a mini black skirt with some belts and a red and black crop top, I start to decorate my body with some accessories and big black boots to finish the look. Already on my bathroom, I clean my face and try to do some makeup that covered the sadness of my face. I opted to do a simple sharp eyeliner, mascara and some red lipgloss.

After making sure I was ready, I waited for Johnnie. He knocks on my front door a few minutes later and I walk straight to it, meeting him. He didn't even smile, just looked at me up and down and carefully guided me with him to the car. It was awkward and not even the music playing helped me to relax.

As soon as we get there, Johnnie gets out of the car and I do the same, just mimicking his actions. He didn't grab my hand, or wrapped an arm around my waist, nothing. We walk side by side, like we're just friends, and get in the party. I see Jake and Tara and point at their direction so Johnnie would know where I'm going, and he follows me.

Tara is quick to know something's up and immediately hug me, whispering in my ear so the guys wouldn't hear us.

-Hey, what's up?

I give her a small sad smile and she just nods, grabbing my hand and announcing that we were gonna get some shots. She guides me to the bar, asking for two tequilas.

-What's wrong? Wanna talk about it?

She asks, handing me one of the tequilas. We drink it and I shake my head a bit with the feeling of the alcohol burning my throat.

-We had a fight. He's been talking to a girl and I've been a bit distant, but today we were supposed to spend the day together and all he did was stay on his phone talking to someone else.

I explain, sighning and leaning against a wall nearby. Tara nods, rubbing my arm carefully.

-I'm sorry to hear it, babe. But try to talk to him, maybe it's just a misunderstanding.

She hands me a beer that I'm not even sure where it came from, but I accept it, nodding to her advice.

-Yeah, I'll try. Thanks.

She hugs me again, disappearing right after. I drink a few sips of my drink, looking around and trying to find Johnnie. When my eyes finally meet his, he was on the other side of the room, with Jake and two strange girls. I take a deep breath, standing in my place, just watching it from afar. Is it worth it? Is it worth all the pain and insecurity that this relationship gives me? Is he ever going to prefer me?

-What's a girl like you doing all alone here?

I hear a man's voice and I turn my head to look who it was. I've never seen this man before in my life, and I was definitely not interested. Not just because he was a random guy, but because I have a handsome boyfriend and even though we're not on good terms he's still the only one I want.

-I'm not alone, my boyfriend's right there.

I point at Johnnie, and the guy follows my finger, laughing when he sees it.

-Your boyfriend left you alone to be with other girls?

I sigh. Honestly, valid point. But it's complicated, I know it's not what it looks like, but it sucks that that's what it looks like to anyone. I need to talk to him, and this guy is just the perfect reason of why I hate to be on bad terms with Johnnie. With my lack of response, the guy continues.

-Maybe he's not fucking you right, huh?

I look at the guy with a disgusted face, rolling my eyes at him and starting to walk in Johnnie's direction. Not the time to deal with creepy randoms. I stop in front of Johnnie, giving a quick look and trying to be nice by smiling at the girls and Jake before meeting his eyes again.

-Can we talk?

For the first time I see a small smile on his lips and he nods. I guide him outside, standing by the garden and taking a deep breath. He starts talking before I do.

-I'm sorry.

I feel his hands interlocking with mine, making me relax immediately. He has such an effect on me, it's crazy.

-I just... feel like I'm not your girlfriend anymore sometimes.

My voice is low and shaky, he could see how upset I was, and I could see that this wasn't what he wanted for us. The guilt was evident.

-I know, I'm sorry, I was mad that you were always at work, so I tried to make you jealous and it didn't exactly work. The girl I was talking to was an actress to my next music video and those girls right there were just Jake's friends, I just want you, I promise.

He pulls me into a hug, making me smile. I fight the urge to cry and just hug him harder.

-I'm so sorry, I should've worked from home or something, I was so caught up on what I had to do. I'm sorry, I love you.

He pulls away and cup my cheeks with his hands, kissing my forehead gently.

-It's okay, we're good, I'm sorry too. I love you.

I smile, feeling finally relieved. It was definitely nothing that I was thinking about and the fact he wanted to make me jealous it's actually kinda funny. He pulls me into a soft kiss, making me melt into his touch.

-So, what did that guy said?

He asks, making me laugh and shake my head a bit.

-That you're probably not fucking me right.

I shrug, laughing at Johnnie's annoyed expression.

-We'll see if I fuck you right or not after the party.

My eyes widen and I feel my cheeks turning red. I push his arm playfully, rolling my eyes.

-Johnnie!

#johnnie guilbert #johnnie x reader #johnnie x you #fanfic #imagine #youtube #tara yummy #jake webber #jake and johnnie #request

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oizysian · 5 months

Text

III. DON’T FALL IN LOVE WITH HER

All Eyes on Me masterlist

Word count: 2.5k

•

The next few days were exhausting. Brie took me all over LA, or at least that's what it felt like.

We went shopping, went out to eat at restaurants I'd never try by myself, and went sightseeing at the typical tourist attractions the state had to offer.

It was now the night of the party and, quite frankly, I was terrified. I was in my hotel room, pacing, waiting for Brie to come and pick me up, but I wasn't even dressed yet. I couldn't choose an outfit to save my life. She told me it was casual, but what is casual to a bunch of celebrities?

I bit my lip as I examined the clothing I brought with me. It was mostly graphic tees, hoodies and joggers that I owned, so casual is all that I really had anyway. I just didn't want to look or feel out of place.

I took a random shirt and a pair of black joggers and went into the bathroom, cleaning up a bit before getting dressed. As I reentered the living area there was a knock on the door, no doubt it was Brie.

I opened the door and there she stood, dressed just about as casually as I was. She looked me up and down and shot me a sly smile.

"Lookin' good, Y/N."

"Thanks." I smiled, moving to the side so she could enter the room. "You look really good too. Lemme just grab my phone and we can go."

She nodded at my words, standing at the door as I walked over to the bed and grabbed my phone and hotel key off the nightstand. I pat my pockets, checking for my wallet and double checking that I had everything before turning back to her and gesturing for her to leave.

"Ladies first." I smirked and she scoffed at me.

"Then why am I leaving before you?"

"That's 'cos I'm a gentlewoman and you're not."

"Yeah, 'cos gentlewomen wear snapbacks to parties."

"Wait," I stopped dead in my tracks and she turned to look at me. "Should I not? I could take it off."

She approached me, looking at my face intently. She reached up to grab me by the chin, turning my head in different directions so she could see me from all angles. It was a little intimidating to be honest. She gave me a small smile and tapped my nose gently.

"It suits you. You look cute. C'mon."

I watched her walk down the hall towards the elevator for a split second before following her, closing my room door securely behind me. What the hell was that about? I shook myself out of my thoughts and joined her in wait for the elevator to reach our floor.

"You excited?" She asked, staring straight ahead at the closed doors.

"Yeah," I smiled slightly, thinking about all the things that could possibly happen tonight. "I like making new friends. I'm just not very good at it."

"Selling yourself short again." She shook her head and gave me a playful smirk. "Don't you remember what happened last time?"

I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks at her words. Despite waking up with a hangover the next day, I did remember that she wanted to kiss me that night.

"Yeah, you struck me down in cold blood." I teased and she laughed underneath her breath, not wanting me to know she was laughing.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened for us. We entered and went down to the lobby, where she had a car waiting for us out front.

"You're not driving?" I asked and she shook her head.

"I plan on drinking, so I asked my usual driver to take us. Frank, this is Y/N. Y/N, Frank." She introduced us and I waved to him shyly as we both got into the backseat.

"How far is it?"

"From here?" She thought for a second. "About 10 minutes."

"Where are we going?"

"A lot of questions tonight, huh?" She bumped our shoulders and I bumped hers right back, causing her to laugh. "The producers of the film rented out this small club for the night so the cast, crew, and whoever else was invited could party without an audience."

She looked at me from the corner of her eye and I tried not to notice how often she actually looked at me.

"You're probably the only person that'll be there with absolutely no Marvel connections at all."

"You're my Marvel connection." I smiled up at her and she shook her head, clearly amused with me.

"I sure am."

We sat in silence for a few moments before finally pulling up at the club. She said "small" and I expected it to be small. This was huge.

"C'mon." She called to me and I realized I was still sitting in the car while she was already waiting outside.

I climbed out and looked up at the building before I felt her tug on the sleeve of my shirt, dragging me to the front door. We entered with no issues, her being Brie Larson and me being attached to Brie Larson. She kept me close as we walked through the crowds of people, and I suddenly became very aware of just how many people it took to work on a movie.

I nervously clung to her arm, not really being used to large crowds all so close together like this. There was almost no room to breathe.

She greeted people as we made our way to the back end of the club where she had obviously spotted her former co-stars. She waved animatedly at people I couldn't see and picked up her pace, which I did my best to match. She had energy I could only dream of.

In front of us was a few tables put together with a bunch of people just talking, drinking, and enjoying each other's company. It would seem like a normal scene, except for the fact that all of these people were some of Marvel's greatest actors.

Brie introduced me to everyone generally and I waved, completely overwhelmed at the amount of people I was meeting and I was momentarily thankful that I already knew most, if not all, of their names. She then took me around and introduced me to her friends personally and I did my best to keep my cool.

They were all very nice to me, very polite and Chris Evans even offered to buy me a drink, which I accepted. While he was off fetching me a drink of some kind, Brie introduced me to the last group - the one that got my stomach all tied up in knots.

"Y/N, this is Scarlett, Colin, Elizabeth, and Robbie."

"H-hi." I stuttered like an idiot, my eyes glued to the green-eyed beauty sitting not ten feet away from me.

She smiled brightly, extending her hand out for me to shake. She was the only one that offered her hand to me and I took it, hoping that my palm wasn't sweaty and that I wasn't shaking too badly.

Her hands were small and soft, quite like my own, and it kind of felt like they fit perfectly together.

"Brie told me she was bringing someone special with her." I gave Brie a look and she shrugged.

"Are you guys dating?" The man beside Elizabeth spoke and she elbowed him in his side, which he ignored.

I shook my head and a moment later Brie spoke.

"Robbie, people have friends. You should get some and see what it's like."

My eyes widened at her words. She had a smile on her face and Elizabeth looked embarrassed. Robbie, on the other hand, seemed used to Brie's banter and completely ignored her, going back to sipping on his beer.

Chris approached us with my drink and I thanked him. He took note of the awkward tension between Elizabeth and Brie and shook his head, walking away to hang out with everyone else. Oh god, why did Brie have to open her mouth and make things tense?

"I'm gonna get another beer." Robbie got up and made his way over to the bar, leaving us alone for the moment.

"Do you want a drink?" I asked Elizabeth and she shook her head.

"No, I'm driving tonight. Come sit!" She pat the spot next to her and I sat down, my whole body shaking with excitement and nervousness.

Brie stood for a moment before sitting on the other side of me, chatting up Scarlett and Colin.

"So, tell me about yourself." Elizabeth spoke to me and I nearly spit out my drink. She was actively trying to get to know me.

"Um ... well, what do you wanna know?" I chuckled nervously, swirling my drink around to distract myself from making a fool out of myself.

"Anything. Everything." She leaned her elbow on the table and placed her head in her hand, her eyes completely focused on me. "Brie says you met playing video games? Do you make them for a living?"

I shook my head, placing the drink on the table so I could discreetly fidget with my hands under the table.

"I play them, actually. Live for people to watch."

"What kind of games do you play?"

"All kinds. Do you play?"

"Oh no," she smiled at me. "But Robbie does sometimes so I know a little bit about them."

I nodded in understanding, bringing one of my hands back up to grab my drink and take a sip.

"If you ever want to learn more, I'm your gal. I-I mean, I can show you how to play stuff. Like CoD."

"CoD?" She questioned. If she noticed that I was nervous she didn't make it obvious.

"Call of Duty. Sorry, I'm so used to being around gamers that I forget about normal people sometimes." I laughed and she scrunched up her nose.

"I'd love to learn. I'm really competitive so I might become a monster when we play."

"I'm only competitive when it comes to Zombies. I'm not much of an online player."

"Is that how you met Brie?"

"Playing CoD? No. We played Fortnite. Well, actually we met because -"

Robbie returned at that moment, plopping down on the other side of Elizabeth and wrapping his free arm around her shoulders. She moved from her leaning position and sat up straight.

"I think I know you." Robbie spoke, pointing at me with his bottle.

"Do you?" I questioned, unsure as to how he could possibly know me.

"Yeah, Twitch made a post about you on Twitter the other day, didn't they? Saying how you raised $5,000 for charity with that one over there." He gestured to Brie and I nodded at his words.

"Yeah, that was me." I chuckled nervously, taking another sip of my drink.

"You raised $5,000 for charity?" Elizabeth asked surprised and I nodded.

"Brie helped though." I laughed.

"That's amazing." She spoke softly, awe evident in her gaze.

"Y/N here is amazing, Liz." Brie turned to butt into our conversation. "She organized the whole thing herself. I just weaseled my way in there for fun."

Brie nudged me with her elbow and I looked at her. She gestured to Elizabeth with her head and smiled.

"Tell Lizzie what character you played as when we played Fortnite."

My eyes shot down to the liquid in my glass, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Who?" She questioned, a smile gracing her beautiful face as she looked at me.

"Scarlet Witch." I mumbled and she placed her hand on my thigh, bouncing excitedly in her seat.

"Are you a fan?"

I shook my head and her expression went from excited to confused.

"Not of her." I looked up into her eyes and smiled, noticing the light blush that colored her cheeks.

"Y/N is a BIG admirer of yours, Liz."

I shot Brie yet another look and she smiled widely, taking a sip of the drink I hadn't realized that she had.

"I-I just ..." I tried to think of something to say to save myself. "I think you're beautiful."

Y/N, shut up.

"And smart and funny."

Elizabeth smiled, biting her lip and scrunching up her nose again. Holy shit, I was going to fall in love.

"Well, thank you, Y/N. I think you're beautiful and smart and funny too."

I completely malfunctioned at that very moment. She giggled at my reaction and I did my best to not turn into a puddle of mush at the sound.

"How long are you gonna be in LA?"

"Only another day or so."

"We should grab lunch before you go! It'll be fun."

"Y-yeah, sure." I smiled and she turned to grab her purse, digging around inside of it before pulling out her phone.

"Here," she handed it over to me. "Give me your number and we can meet up."

I stared at the phone in her hand for a moment before taking it from her, putting my name and number in her contacts before handing it back. She smiled at her phone before looking back up at me. If Robbie wasn't draped across her at the moment I probably would've gotten closer to her.

"Where do you live?"

"New York."

"New York! My sisters live there - I visit all the time!" She was really excited and I wasn't sure why. Did she really like me that much already?

"They have a clothing line, right? The Row?"

She nodded excitedly, clearly proud of the empire her sisters had built. We talked for a while with the occasional interruption from Robbie and Brie, the both of them a little more than tipsy.

When Brie became more intoxicated than I could handle, I apologized to Elizabeth, telling her I would be taking Brie home. She promised she'd text me in the morning and gave me a hug before I dragged Brie's drunk ass out of the club and over to the car.

I managed to get Brie up to my hotel room, stumbling and tripping over our own feet as we made our way over to the bed. I dropped her half conscious body onto the bed and stood in front of her for a moment, deciding that I would sleep on the pullout couch tonight instead of bunking with her.

I turned to fix up the couch when I heard Brie shuffling around.

"Y/N," she called to me, now sitting up on the bed. "Come here."

I approached her and she grabbed my waist to steady herself as she looked up at me.

"Did you have fun?"

"I did." I smiled down at her, pushing gently on her shoulders so that she would lay down and sleep. "We can talk about it tomorrow. You need sleep now."

She grabbed me by my arms and pulled herself up, pressing her lips to mine sloppily. I stood in shock as she kissed me, not even thinking to respond in any way. She pulled away from me, licking her lips and looking down at the ground before speaking.

"You really like her, don't you?"

"What?" I finally snapped out of my stupor, realizing she was now laying down on the bed, falling asleep.

"Don't fall in love with her." She murmured softly and I just stared at her as she fell asleep.

It might've been too late for that.

•

@oh-thats-cute @marvelwomen-simp

#oizysian writes #elizabeth olsen x yn #elizabeth olsen story #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x female reader #elizabeth olsen fanfic #elizabeth olsen #brie larson x y/n #brie larson x female reader #brie larson x reader #brie larson

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