#you WILL fuck up and someone WILL ask you ‘wait how do you know that?’

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Don’t Mess with My Girl

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You come home from work and you make the mistake of telling Bucky that a guy has been harassing you at work.

Warning: harassment from a male coworker

A/N: the snippets of Bucky in the Thunderbolts trailer have ignited my love for him again omfg.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky's already home when you arrive from work. You let out an exhausted sigh as you place your things on the kitchen island and kiss Bucky's cheek, "Hi, lovey."

He hums and looks at your slumped figure, "What's wrong?" he asks with furrowed brows, concern written all over his face.

"Just a rough day at work," you reply, opening up the dishwasher to grab a cup and snort as you see Bucky's metal prosthetic resting inside.

You turn back to him, "Explain," you say pointing at his arm.

He gives a sheepish grin and shrugs, "Today was a bit messy, is all." You chuckle and roll your eyes. You grab a cup from the top rack of the dishwasher and grab Bucky's arm, laying it on the counter.

"What happened today?" you ask as you fill your cup with water from the fridge.

Bucky shakes his head, "Nope. I asked you a question first," he walks over to you and cups your face with his right hand, "What's made my girl all upset?"

You groan, "A new hire, Noah. He's very...persistent."

"Persistent how?"

You shrug, "He just keeps asking me out, getting a little too close-"

"Fire him," Bucky immediately says.

You groan, "But he's a good employee!"

"Doesn't matter if he keeps harassing you."

"I wouldn't say he's harassing me..."

Bucky cocks a brow and places his hand on his hip in a very intimidating manner, "Does he get aggressive when you reject him?"

"...yes."

"Is he constantly berating you and not taking no for an answer?"

"...yeah."

"Does he scare you?"

"A little bit."

"Baby, that's harassment," he says as he walks over to his metal arm, placing it onto the notch and locking it in. He looks down and flexes his arm, "I can take care of him for you, easily. The fellas and I can grab him and-"

You immediately wave your hands and shake your head, "No, no, no. No! Don't hurt him! I'll-I'll handle it. I'll talk to Joan and let her know what's been going on."

"Good and if that doesn't stop him then, I'll pay him a visit," you give him a playful shove and he chuckles, "What? No one messes with my girl and gets away with it!"

____________________________

As soon as you got into the bookshop the next day, you immediately tell Joan of Noah's behavior. When he comes in, Joan pulled him aside to talk to him. You thought that everything would be good after that...but you were wrong.

When you were in the back, putting books away, Noah corners you, "Did you really have to tell Joan our business?"

You can't help but scoff at his audacity, "Well you wouldn't stop asking me out after I said no and reminding you that I have a boyfriend."

It's Noah's turn to scoff, "Oh yeah, your boyfriend," he says with air quotes, "You say you have one but you don't have him as your lockscreen and you haven't showed any pictures of him."

"He's a private person, but that's not the point! I told you 'no'! You should've stopped after that."

Noah rolls his eyes, "Oh just because someone says 'no', doesn't mean they mean it! Means they want you to try harder."

"Actually, it just means 'no' and you fuck off," a deep voice cuts in-between the confrontation between you and Noah.

Both of you turn to see Bucky standing there with a hard glare on his face.

You gulp, "Bucky, what're you doing here?"

He holds up your lunch bag, "You forgot your lunch at home," he holds it out and you rush over to him, grabbing the bag and remaining at his side.

Noah looks at Bucky with wide eyes and then at you. His face loses color as he realizes, "W-Wait, you-you're dating the White Wolf of Brooklyn?"

Bucky smirks at his nickname, "Yeah, she is. And my girl told me you wouldn't leave her alone. Sounds like even with your job on the line, you still don't seem to get the hint." He slips off his blazer, handing it off to Steve. He then starts rolling up the sleeve of his metal arm, the dim lighting of the book shop reflecting off its metal plates.

"I can definitely figure out a way to get the message through to you."

Noah stutters out a response, "N-No. Th-That's not necessary, s-sir. I-I won't bother, Y/N again, I promise."

Bucky hums, "If I see or hear you harassing my girl or anyone else, I'll make sure your body will never be found again. Scum like you don't deserve second chances, but I'm feeling a little gracious today."

Noah nods, "Thank you. I-I won't behave like that ever again."

"Good. Now apologize to Y/N," he nods to you.

Noah gulps and stutters out an apology. You simply reply with a nod and Noah scurries away.

You let out a deep breath that you didn't know you were holding. You look at Bucky, "Thanks."

He shrugs, "Anyone gives you a problem, they have to go through me," he mumbles pecking your lips.

"Y/N, do you know why Noah suddenly qui-ah," Joan turns the corner to see you and Bucky. The older woman puts her hands on her hips and gives Bucky a scolding look, "Barnes, what did you do?"

Bucky shrugs, "Just gave him a warning, ma'am. He shouldn't have been treatin' my girl like that!"

"Very true, but you know I don't condone violence in my shop."

He holds his hands up, "No violence happened, ma'am. Just a little threatenin'." Joan looks to you for confirmation and you nod.

She sighs, "Very well. Guess I need to look for another employee again."

An idea came to mind, "Actually, I know someone!"

______________

"Seriously, Y/N, I owe you one for this!" the young brunette exclaims as he follows you with a box of books in his arms.

You chuckle, "It's no problem, Peter. Besides, we both get something out of this. You're doing a much safer job like your Aunt May and Tony wanted and you get to keep an eye on me for Bucky. It's a win-win situation."

The bell above the shop's door rings and Peter immediately places the box of books down, "I got it!" he rushes to the front, "Hi, welcome to-oh! Y/N!" Peter's voice echoes through the store.

You shelf a book and head to the front, "Yeah?" you break out into a smile as you see Bucky there.

"Hey!" you approach him, giving a little wave to Steve, who stands behind him. Steve waves back, but says nothing else. You wrap your arms around Bucky and peck his lips, "What's up?"

"Had a meeting at Wanda's shop, brought some pastries for you, Joan, and the kid," he hands over the maroon pastry box with Wanda's logo on it.

"Yay! Here, Peter," you hand it off to the young man and he jaw drops, "Oh, sweet! Thanks, Mr. Barnes!" and he heads into the back to share the pastries with Joan.

Bucky places his hands on your waist, "How's he doin'?"

You chuckle, "Fine. He's very enthusiastic and a hard worker. Plus, he doesn't hit on me because he's in love with MJ."

Bucky's brows shoot up in surprise, "Jones' kid? Pft. Good luck, Parker."

You giggle and then back away, "Alright, big mob boss, I need to get back to work."

"Fine. But seriously though, you feel better? Safer?"

You nod, "I do. Thank you," you kiss his cheek and he softens, "Like I said, no one messes with my girl," he gives you a wink and wave as he exits the book shop.

[russo-woso]

Turned on by the simplest thing || Alessia Russo

Masterlist | Prompt list

Request Breastfeeding kink gets turned on every time you go to feed she gets annoyed someone else is sucking your breast instead of her

A/N Now I debated whether to add something into this fic, and I asked my readers and you can see their responses here and here.

Warning smut 18+, breastfeeding kink, soft smut, cunnilingus, postpartum sex, insecurities

Summary Alessia gets turned on by the simplest thing, breastfeeding.

Alessia’s favourite part of your body was your boobs.

You knew that, she knew that, most people knew that.

In the changing rooms, she’d always get caught staring at your bra.

If you were lying in bed, she’d have her hands resting on your boobs.

If you were having sex, her mouth would always be latched to your nipples.

She just loved your boobs.

But there was a new person who loved your boobs just as much now, your newborn baby girl, Ava.

The first time you had to feed Ava was eventful.

The nurse was teaching you how to get Ava to latch on, Alessia was sat just watching, specifically eyeing your boobs.

But because she was so wrapped up in the moment of becoming a mama, she failed to notice that someone was slowly replacing her.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that she finally noticed.

“Hi Ava, hi baby.” Alessia cooed, picking a crying Ava up and cradling her to her chest. “Let’s go see mummy, huh? She’ll feed you.”

Alessia walked out of Ava’s nursery, walking into the living room where you were sat.

“Hi, bubba.” You said, taking Ava in your arms and preparing yourself to feed her.

Alessia came and sat down next to you, helping hold Ava as you latched her on.

The room was silent apart from small hums of contentment from Ava as she drank.

You just so happened to look at Alessia to see her eyes drilled on your boob.

“What’re you looking at?” You asked, a smirk in your face.

“She’s stealing my job, your boobs are mine.” Alessia said, a pout on her lips.

“Lessi, baby, she has to do this.” You pointed out, a slight smile resting on your face.

“I know, but…”

“You can have them later, okay? When we’ve put her back down. As long as you’re gentle.”

Alessia’s eyes lit up, nodding her head eagerly before pressing a tender kiss to your cheek.

—

Ava had fallen back asleep and you’d managed to transfer her back to her nursery crib without waking her.

Both, you and Alessia, had decided to start getting Ava to sleep in her nursery during the day so when it was time for her to go from your room to her nursery, she would be comfortable in there.

You heard Alessia in the bedroom and so you creaked open the door, your heart swelling with love as you did so.

You watched as Alessia lit candles around the room, playing some relaxing songs through the Alexa.

“Baby!” Alessia whisper shouted, not wanting to wake Ava up.

You waited a while and then opened the door, pretending to be surprised.

“Lessi… you did this?”

“I want to show you how proud I am of you and how much I love you.” Alessia explained, wrapping her arms round you and bringing you in for a hug.

You responded by kissing her gently, all the love you felt for one another being poured into it.

Whilst kissing you, Alessia reached for the bottom of your shirt, gently pulling it over your head.

“Baby, listen, my body… it’s not how it used to—” you began, pulling away from the kiss.

“—Y/N, you really think I care about that? Pretty girl, you’d just given birth to our daughter. I don’t care what you look like. I love you no matter what.” Alessia said gently, your heart swelling with love.

“I love you so much, lessi.” You told her before reconnecting your lips in a passionate kiss.

Alessia guided you to the bed, unclipping your bra in the process and laying you down on the bed.

Alessia lips didn’t leave yours, even when she climbed on top of you.

Her lips travelled down to your boobs, gently kissing them.

“Fuck.” You hissed at the sensitivity as she licked your nipples.

“Do you want me to stop?” Alessia asked concerned, but you shook your head no.

Alessia continued sucking gently at your nipples.

You hadn’t realized straight away, but when you heard Alessia swallowing, you realized she was drinking your breast milk.

“Tastes so good, baby.” Alessia mumbled before sucking again at your nipple.

“Lessi, you’re drinking it?” You asked, shocked, but it came out as a moan due to the pleasure.

“Tastes too good not to.”

“Fuck, baby.” You gasped, finding the action hot.

Alessia hummed, satisfied, before moving down to your soaked core.

“Gonna be so gentle, love, I promise.” Alessia whispered, her tongue flattening against your folds.

You arched your back at the contact, having not felt it in months.

Alessia lapped at your folds before licking your clit.

“Feel good?” Alessia questioned, the vibrations of her voice clearly evident as jolts of pleasure ran through your body.

“Yes, lessi, feels so good.” You told her, your hand finding her hair.

Alessia stuck to your clit, thinking that you’d be very sensitive, due to the birth, anywhere else.

“Fuck, less — I’m so close, baby.” You warned her, pulling on her hair. “Please don’t stop, please.”

“Cum for me, pretty girl.”

You let out a cry as your legs spasmed around Alesia’s head.

She licked your juices before coming up to be level with your face.

“Thank you for being gentle.” You whispered, bringing Alessia in for a kiss.

You moaned as you tasted yourself on Alessia’s tongue.

Alesia’s lips left yours and travelled down to your left boob.

“Can I have some more?” Alessia asked and you nodded, resting a hand on the back of her head and playing with the baby hairs.

Just as Alessia began to suck, a cry was heard over the baby monitor.

You and Alessia both looked at each other and sighed.

“I’ll go get her.”

[f1fantasys]

Riding his pole, when he got pole

Warnings - swearing, blowjob, cockwarming, fingering, m and f receiving oral, p in v sex.

2.7k words

You watched on as Lando had just got pole under the bright lights of Singapore, and you knew that this is just what he needed to boost his morale after last weeks horrendous quali.

He was a burst of energy after that - doing his interviews with a confidence that suited him so well, you couldn't help but clench your thighs together as you eyed him up and down while he was talking to Sky. The heat of the night letting him shine a glorious sheen of sweat that was literally dripping down his face and had his hair sticking to his forehead His eyes had caught you gawking at him, and he sent a smirk and a wink your way. You just couldn't wait to get back to the hotel and have your way with him. Quickly, you sent him a text;

don't shower

Because you wanted him as is. He looked so fucking sexy.

A short while later, Lando had found you waiting with Laila. You had your back to him, so as he approached you he let his arms slide around your body into a tight hug from behind, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

Your instinct had you squeezing his hands that were resting on your stomach, as you turned your head and pecked his cheeks as best you could.

Laila quickly bid you both goodbye as Mick had just texted her saying he was ready to leave.

''Hi baby'' you mumbled, as soon as she left, taking in Lando's scent, a mix of his sweat and musky perfume.

''Hmmm'' he said, smiling with his face still in your neck.

''Back to the hotel?'' you asked, knowing Lando would catch on to how desperate you were.

''Someone's needy'' he said, turning your body to face his fully as he pulled you into a soft kiss, hands running through your hair.

''Huh, and you're to blame'' you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind you.

The drive back to the hotel was filled with chatter about the day, though you really couldn't concentrate on anything Lando was saying.

When at a red light, his hand found your thigh and slowly inched its way up, slipping past your dress and into the elastic of your panties.

Your breath hitched as you turned to look at him, but his eyes were straight ahead, face neutral, as if his fingers weren't running through your folds.

You spread your legs wider as he found your clit, pinching and tugging on it, unable to keep you moans at bay.

''Fuck Lan'' you panted, biting down harshly on your bottom lip as he finally pushed a finger through your entrance, quickening his pace when he realized how slick you were.

But suddenly, when the light went green, Lando's fingers left your body and went straight into his mouth. He sucked them all clean on your juices, and placed his hand back on the steering wheel, driving off as if you weren't a breathless mess in the seat next to him.

''Lannn'' you whined, but he just kept his eyes on the road ahead, so all you could do was clench your thighs as tightly as possible, hoping to relieve some of the pressure he had just built up.

''Patience, baby'' he finally said in his thick British accent, hoarse with how turned on he himself was.

Finally, back at the hotel, before you could even close the door properly, Lando had you pushed up against it, his mouth latching onto yours as if he was a starved man.

It was messy, and dirty. Spit already running down your chin as you pulled him impossibly closer, moaning into his mouth as your tongues battled for dominance. You won.

''Waited all fucking day to do this'' he breathed, lips moving down to your neck as you both stripped each other of your clothes.

You couldn't help but struggle to get Lando's polo and shorts off - they were stuck to him because of his sweat, which you weren't complaining about.

So as he pulled back to take everything off himself, you just stood there taking him in. You watched as his sweat traveled down his chest, defined abs, eventually settling on the top of his waist.

Lando caught you eyeing him up for the second time today, sending you another smirk. ''Like what you see?'' he asked.

You teasingly stuck your tongue out at him as you pushed him backwards to the couch.

He took a seat and spread his legs wide, and you swear you stopped breathing at the sight of him. Of course, he was devilishly handsome, had the hottest fucking body you could imagine, but when your eyes landed on his thick girth, you knew you were done for. It was always one of your favourite parts of his body. It stood there, tall and hard, begging for attention, twitching which caused pre cum to slide down the sides.

''Fuck, please'' he begged, face softening because he knew he was putty in your hands now.

''Who's eager now?'' you asked, sliding on to your knees between his legs before finally taking his dick into your hands and pumping him a few times.

''Fucking hell, you're seriously something else'' he mumbled, more to himself.

As much as you wanted to tease him, you were more desperate to have him in your mouth. To taste him. So you dove straight in, taking as much of his cock as you could, feeling the tip hit the back of your throat, already gagging at the action.

Lando leaned back and placed his hands behind his head, shutting his eyes and concentrating on the feeling of euphoria that you were giving him.

You quickened your pace of sliding him in and out of your mouth, stopping every so often to suck harshly on his tip before bottoming out again.

''Fuck baby, just like that'' he said, leaning down and taking your head in his hands, now guiding your movements as he fucked himself in and out of your mouth.

''So fucking good at this'' he moaned. You, for starters, were a mess. You had spit and precum running down your chin, dripping onto your clenched thighs.

All you could do was moan around his cock as you could feel Lando's actions starting to falter, indicating he was close to letting loose. You held down onto his thighs when his hold on your head tightened, almost painfully so.

''Fuck, y/n, I'm cuming'' Lando barely managed to say as he shot ropes of warm salty cum down your throat, letting out a series of dirty moans and grunts as he emptied his load.

You pulled back for air as you swallowed everything, your hands finding his still on your face as you squeezed on him, tears running down your face.

You looked up to see him with his eyes closed, face scrunched up in ecstasy before leaned forward to properly lick all the cum off his throbbing cock.

Lando hissed at the contact when your tongue swiped over his slit. ''Fuck'' he silently whispered.

Once you'd licked him clean, Lando pulled you onto his lap. You straddled him as he kissed you again, full of urgency and once again there was a battle of domination between you tongues.

You'd both stayed like that for a while, just content with making out endlessly until you needed air to breath so you pulled back and Lando rested his head back on the sofa, both your chests rising and falling to catch up to a normal heart rate again.

You smiled at each other, both exhausted from the day - it was long, hot, pumped on adrenaline - and as much as you wanted to fuck each other senseless, you were honestly too tired.

''Shower then bed?'' he asked. ''I'm exhausted''

''Yeah me too'' you said, quickly pecking his lips before climbing off and heading for the bathroom.

After a lazy shower together, where Lando decided he ''needed to taste you'', and 2 orgasms later, you jumped into bed, you being the little spoon and Lando being the big spoon.

He kissed you goodnight and settled behind you, wrapping you in his arms tightly. Just as you were about to doze off, you felt him shuffle.

''Lan?'' you asked, not liking the feeling of his arms moving to unwrap you.

''Yeah baby'' he whispered. ''Go back to sleep, I'll take care of it'' he said, slowing spreading your legs a little.

Quickly, your mind caught up to what he was doing, and you couldn't help but let out a stifle moan when you felt his rock hard cock brush against your ass.

Finally, Lando let his girth slide through your folds a few times before he slowly pushed himself into you, all the way in as he gave your body a chance to accept the intrusion.

You smiled to yourself and whispered to him ''Hmm, cockwarming. My favourite''

Once he was settled in nicely, he got comfortable behind you again, allowed his arms to wrap around you before kissing your neck a final time as you both dozed off, literally joined at the hip.

At some point through the night when you woke up to check the time, it took your mind a minute to get up to speed as to what was happening. You were still tucked in front of Lando and his cock was still sitting inside you, hard as ever.

As tired as you were, you couldn't help but move you body slightly forwards and backwards a few times to relieve the ache that was in your core. You could feel the slick and sticky juices from the both of you as you heard Lando mumble something but within minutes you both were fast asleep again.

When you awoke for the second time that night, you were on you tummy, and you could feel Lando's wight on top of you.

''Fuck, sorry'' he whispered. ''Needed you baby, go back to sleep'' he whispered, leaning down to kiss your neck before you gentle started sliding in and out of you, this time relieving his own throbbing cock from the ache.

You were in a daze, half asleep, half awake as Lando moved in and out of you. Slowly at first, and when he noticed you weren't fully asleep, he quickened his movements rapidly.

''Fuck baby, you're so tight. So fucking good'' he whispered as you let out a few borderline pornographic moans. your fingers latching onto the bed-sheets and squeezing them.

''Lan, more please'' you begged.

He reached down and toyed with your clit, immediately sending you over the edge with no warning, your body shuddering underneath him as you coated his cock with your cum, and within seconds he followed behind, releasing his load deep within you as he rode you both through your orgasms.

No words, just breathless pants and moans filling the room until he finally let his body weight fall on your back, nuzzling his face into your neck, thanking you for being ''so fucking amazing''.

After you both caught your breaths again, Lando pulled out and quickly cleaned the both of you up before pulling you to his side, and you both fell asleep, more content than earlier.

When you finally woke in the morning, you groaned when you reached to the other side of the bed and found it empty, just as Lando emerged from the bathroom in nothing but a towel.

He gave you a wink and a sheepish smile as you shamelessly eyed him up and down when he let the towel drop to the floor, putting his boxers on, when you sprinted out of the bed and stopped him.

He gave you a shocked look at you sudden movement.

''Fuck, wait.'' you said, gently pushing him to sit down on the chair he was standing next to.

''Wanted to do this last night but was too tired. Need to do it now'' you said, straddling him in the chair, his arms instinctively wrapping around your too naked body.

You kissed him with force, wasting no time in sliding your tongue into his mouth before he could even respond, while his hands roamed your body. He squeezed your ass a few times before running them up to toy with your boobs.

''You're trouble.'' he said, ''And desperate.'' he said when you pumped his cock, sliding your thumb over his tip. ''But i love you'' he finally ended.

Just as you lined him up and were about to sink down on him, Lando stilled your movements from you waist. You let out a groan and gave him a puzzled, desperate look.

''Lannn what?'' he said, leaning down to leave a few wet kisses on his face and neck.

''What is it you wanted to do? This is nothing new? You riding me?'' he asked.

''Fuck, you got pole yesterday, and i wanna ride your pole'' you said softly.

Lando's whole demeanor changed. His eyes quickly turned shades darker, his expression changed to one that looked like he was ready to devour you, and you couldn't help but let out a giggle at his antics.

With no warning he pulled your body down onto him. Your giggles quickly turned into moans as you remembered what you were doing.

You braced your hands on his broad shoulders as you continuously lifted yourself up and down on him, his hands burning holes at how tight he was holding your waist, guiding your movements.

''Uh, Lando oh'' you moaned, feeling his dick throbbing inside of you.

''That's it baby, ride me, fuck me, fuck my pole baby, yeah'' he said through a few breathless moans of his own.

You leaned down and took one of his nipples into your mouth, sucking and tugging at it harshly as Lando was no lifted his hips up to meet your halfway.

''Fuck, Lando'' you moaned when his hands found your own boobs and pinched your nipples, before lowering his mouth to them and repeating what you just did to his.

''Lando I'm gonna cum'' you warned, knowing your orgasm would come soon.

''Fuck let it out baby. Riding me so fucking good, such a good little whore for me'' he said harshly as his fingers found your clit to stimulate you some more.

And with that your body was shaking above him, your orgasm ripping through you as you came violently around his throbbing cock.

''Fuck baby'' he moaned at the feeling of your juices coating him.

You don't know where you got the energy from now suddenly you were riding him faster now, desperate to feel him cum inside of you while you chased yet another high of your own.

''Gonna win today Lan, yeah? you questioned, knowing it would rile him up in the best ways before a race.

''Fuck yes'' he all but shouted, ''And then gonna celebrate with you later, gonna fuck you so hard you won't even be able to walk tomorrow'' he said between gritted teeth.

His word already had you cumming again, this time your body feeling like jelly in his arms, and so it was up to him to chase his high now, muttering dirty words in your ears though you couldn't even make it what he was saying in your fucked out state.

And in seconds Lando was throwing ''fucks'' out left right and center when he finally came undone, emptying his load into you again as you both slowed your movements.

You let your body collapse forward onto his as he held you tight, brushing your hair that was stuck to your face because of your sweat.

''If me getting pole means i get this as a reward, I'll fucking work for it every race. That was incredible baby'' he said, face so close to yours you could feel his breath.

All you could do was smile. ''Even better reward if you win the race'' you cooed.

And guess what? He fucking won the race later that day.

And guess what else? You couldn't walk properly the next day.

[luvhughes43]

BOYFRIEND | quinn hughes

[luvhughes43 masterlist🌙]

based off the song boyfriend by ariana grande

summary: every summer without fail you and quinn fall back into old habits... you two aren't official but the feelings are there.

word count: 3.4k

i'm a motherfuckin' train wreck i don't wanna be too much but i don't wanna miss your touch and you don't seem to give a fuck

all of your life you had four loves. there was shitty reality television, your home state-michigan, your summers at your familys lake house, and then there was quinn hughes.

you had always loved him even if you hadn't recognized it yourself. back then, both of your parents would make little comments about how they're going to end up together one day! but when you stayed in michigan and quinn moved to vancouver everything changed.

when quinn left school to pursue hockey you assumed that your friends with benefits situation would fizzle out. but it hadn't. and so youre left wanting as you watch the brunet boy trapeze around his backyard - greeting boys he'd seen countless times over the hockey season while you were stuck at school.

when you finally do catch this eye, he waltz over with a shit-eating grin. "hey, haven't seen you in awhile," he teases, pulling you under his impressive arm. you stumble into his side with practice ease and quinn tilts his head to look down your solo cup. "the fuck is that?"

you hold the cup over your head to where you assumed his lips would be, "i dont know jack made it - 'could be anything,"

quinn reaches for the cup and takes a measured sip. "that'll kill you," he winces, spilling the cups contents on the grass and tossing the cup along with it.

you sigh, peeved. quinn did this thing where he assumes he knows what's best. "i was actually drinking that,"

"yeah, yeah, i'll get you something else," he says distractedly as someone from across the yard flags him down.

just as quinns about to leave again you grab his arm and pull him back to you. even though you're embarrassed to ask you lower your voice and whisper, "when am i going to see you again?"

quinn pauses. "like, are we gonna..."

you remain silent, not wanting to say what you truly want. it was easier to hint at your forays instead of being honest about things. "i'll catch up with you tonight, promise" he kisses the underside of your wrist before shouting playfully to someone in the distance.

i don't wanna keep you waiting but i do just what i have to do and i might not be the one for you but you ain't about to have no boo

an hour later you wander inside the boy's house to grab yourself a refill. there was still no sign of quinn - and so you decide to unwind a little bit before the night truly got underway. every year the guys would host a party to reign in the end of the season. guys from across the country would travel and spend a week in michigan celebrating with packs of zyns, cases of beer, and endless rounds of golf.

"zyn?" trevor zegras says as he holds out a small white pouch towards you. you shake your head no and trevor shoves the circular box back into his short pockets.

"i heard he's single," a girl to your left whispers loudly to a group of her friends. trevors head turns instinctively,but you pay the group of girls no attention.

"ten bucks they're talking about me," trevor leans down and whispers.

"twenty bucks they're not," you announce back and then the two of you messily shake on it. you probably shouldn't have gone to jack for a refill on his concoction but quinn was taking too long so...

"well quinns hot so if he is single, i'll try it," you're not sure what it was exactly but your face heats up regardless. beside you, trevor groans and fishes his wallet out of his back pocket.

youre pretty sure he tries to hand you a wad of crumpled up ones but you were no longer paying attention to trevor or your bets. instead, your focus shifted to a gorgeous blonde hyping herself up to go and talk to your best friend.

'cause I know we be so complicated but we be so smitten, it's crazy i can't have what I want, but neither can you

"alright... i know they're wrinkled but cash is legal tender..." trevor trails off obnoxiously and thus you grab hold of his ten dollars clenching your fist.

"i'll see you later?" you call out distractedly, solely focused on the blonde approaching quinn across the room.

you ain't my boyfriend (boyfriend) and I ain't your girlfriend (girlfriend) but you don't want me to see nobody else and I don't want you to see nobody

it was wrong to use others for personal gain but you were sure there had to be an exception for making somebody jealous. plus, it wasn't like quinn was a saint either.

you vividly remember how quinn chatted up some girl in your class two years ago at a frat party. it was a shitty thing to do, considering how much you complained about that particular girls work ethic after she left you hanging on a group project.

the next morning, quinn had stopped by your apartment to apologize with a bouquet of peonies in hand. you had reluctantly forgiven him, but because the two of you weren't exactly exclusive the fight dissolved on your tongue before you could even properly fight about it.

"hey baby," you tease all your syllables - making sure the baby really rings out in tune. quinns smile doesn't falter at your emergence, instead, he grins as his attention turns from the blonde and onto you.

"y/n," he glances between you and the new girl. you'd have to work for his attention a little more than you'd like to tonight. "as i was saying..." quinn resumes his conversation with the girl slowly, trying his hardest to piss you off.

a tuft of dark black hair peeks it's way through your peripheral and your head immediately turns to find alex turcotte standing alone a few feet away. "turcs!" you call out in the same teasing tone you'd used on quinn and alexs attention is immediately focused on you.

"baby!" he yells jovially, and you could not have planned something better yourself. baby, was a nickname assigned to you after a particular summer in which you were obsessed with dirty dancing. you had pranced around the house to its soundtrack and forced anybody who was around to dance with you - all embarrassingly bad imitations of patrick swayze.

you dont turn to acknowledge quinns reaction but you imagine it as you sway your way over to alex. quinns face would be scrunched up in annoyance, and his eyes would darken just a tad to accompany his scowl. if there was one thing quinn hated more than he liked teasing you, it was you teasing him back.

"so strong!" you laugh loudly, gripping onto alex's arm. his hand brushes across your lower back and you smile brightly when he leaves it resting there.

"you really know how to work a guy, huh?" he laughs before removing his hand altogether. "what are you drinking?" he asks then, shifting tones dramatically from flirtatious to friends-since-childhood.

"i don't know jack made it," you hold the cup up to his face and he recoils with a scuff.

"you're going to be so sick tomorrow,"

you take a sip of your drink before glancing back in quinns direction. his dark eyes were still trained on you but the blonde was still at his side. flirting with alex was truly petty. both you and quinn knew nothing would ever come of it but it was still fun to get him riled up anyway.

but you ain't my boyfriend (boyfriend) and I ain't your girlfriend (girlfriend) but you don't want me to touch nobody else baby, we ain't gotta tell nobody

"want to get me something else?" you ask with a soft voice and you hope it carries to where quinns standing.

alex looks at you momentarily before shaking his head quickly. "uh, yeah, yeah let's go to the kitchen..." you take the lead in your venture to the kitchen and alex slinks his arm around your waist.

you barely make it out of the living room before quinn interrupts your path. "hey man, its been awhile," his smile is strained as he reaches a hand out to alex. the two greet each other and the flashes of disappointment on quinns face is evident when alex doesnt take his arm away from your body.

"where ya two heading?" he asks.

alex hits his solo cup against yours and a slosh of molten liquid rolls over the rim of your cup and onto your new white shoes. "this one needs a new drink. jack made her another one his his "concoctions,"" alex laughs easily but quinns face is entirely tense.

you stay silent.

"oh, i can take her," quinn says with a slight edge.

"it's no worries i can do it," alex assures him with a small smile. "i think jacks in the kitchen and i wanna say hello," he adds when quinn makes no move to back down.

"uh, i just saw him go outside actually," quinn states and you wonder if you should interrupt.

the two boys stare at each other tensely and alex drops his hand from your waist. "i'll see you later baby?" alex mutters lowly, and your head spins from whatever moment you just missed right there.

you nod dismissively to alex and watch in silence as he rapidly walks out of the living room. "what was that for?" you ask quinn as soon as you turn to face him. as expected, his eyebrows were scrunched together and his face show small signs of annoyance.

"you need a drink," is all quinn responds with, and you follow behind him slowly as he maneuvers his way through small crowds of people.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

your vodka cranberry was slowly spilling its contents onto quinns hardwood floor as it lay discarded.

"your floors getting all wet," you mumble against quinns lips the second the two of you pull apart. his hair was messy and his cheeks flush when he notices you staring.

"dont care," he huffs, pulling your hips flush against his own. "'been too long sine i've seen you last,"

you kiss his neck teasingly, "the wood will get ruined,"

quinn sighs and pulls away from you. he strips his shirt off and lets it fall atop your discarded solo cup. his confidence was something that had grown over the years and you were pleasantly delighted.

"thank you," you whisper to him as he slides his arms back against you. you wait for him to say something - mention what happened downstairs but quinn remains silent.

instead, he leads you backwards to his bed with well practiced ease. the games you two play were fun when they ended up like this, but at the same time you felt a twinge for something more.

even though you ain't mine, i promise the way we fight make me honestly feel like we just in love 'cause baby, when push comes to shove damn baby, i'm a train wreck, too (too) i lose my mind when it comes to you i take time with the ones I choose and I don't want to smile if it ain't from you, yeah

the sun streams through quinns open curtains, blinding him momentarily as his eyes adjust to the morning light. when everything comes into focus the first thing he notices is your figure curled up on the other side of his bed like a cat. quinn stretches and despite the brief disturbance your eyes stay firmly closed.

downstairs the house was a mess. empty bottles and cups littered the wood floors and empty food wrappers crinkle uncomfortably under quinns tired feet.

"morning," jack says as soon as his older brother steps into the dimly lit kitchen. jacks sandy hair is tousled and if his undereye bags were any indication of how he was feeling... it was clear that he was unwell.

"you look like shit," quinn chuckles as he tosses jack a bottle of aspirin.

"gee, thanks." jack rolls his eyes but pops a pill nonetheless.

quinn fixes himself some toast and the two brothers sit in comfortable silence.

"where's yn," jack asks, nursing a yellow gatorade.

"sleeping,"

jack hums in acknowledgement. he stares inquisitively at his brother - silently hinting at what's going on between the blurred lines of quinns and yns relationship, but quinn ignores him.

i know we be so complicated lovin' you sometime drive me crazy 'cause i can't have what I want and neither can you

late the next afternoon after tirelessly scrubbing down the floors and tossing out empty cans, the group of hockey players and friends make their way onto the lake.

as always, quinn drives and docks the boat in the middle of the lake so the group could swim and yn could suntan on the hard, white seats of the boat.

quinn wasnt an idiot. he knew that his best friend was hot. the stolen glances and not-so-subtle double takes weren't lost on him as his friends ogled her. she was undeniably gorgeous and someday their relationship wouldn't be enough anymore. she would eventually want more, and quinn wasn't sure he'd be able to give her a relationship she deserved from two thousand miles away.

you ain't my boyfriend (boyfriend) and i ain't your girlfriend (girlfriend) but you don't want me to see nobody else and i don't want you to see nobody

˚₊ · »-♡→ [instagram]

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, bradytkachuk, joshnorris10, 3 333 others

yourusername daydreamin' 🧸

"what's the deal with yn and quinn anyway? have they always been so... intense?" alexander holtz asks between shooting pool.

jack sighs, "yeah theyre always like that. i wish they'd just get over whatever they've got going on and get together already. its honestly painful to watch," jack jokes tensely.

alex tuts, "i wish she were available"

another guy hums, "she's a total smoke show,"

"ew, shes like our sister," luke pipes up.

"your sister maybe," someone laughs. "she ain't mine,"

quinn silently turns away from the rec room to find you.

but you ain't my boyfriend (boyfriend) and i ain't your girlfriend (girlfriend) but you don't want me to touch nobody else baby, we ain't gotta tell nobody

"hey," you smile sweetly at quinns presence. he stares at you simply before sitting down on the decksteps next to you. he frowns when you set your book down beside you and you press your knee to his in an attempt to calm him. "what's wrong?"

quinn sighs deeply. "i just - i dont know. what are we doing?"

"what do you mean?" you ask even though you know where this conversation is heading.

quinn gestures between the two of you, "we've... things are different now,"

"i don't know what you're talking about," you say, genuinely taken off guard. "if this is about the party...?"

"we'd be an awful couple," quinn cuts in.

"who called us a couple?,"

"look, you're going to want more eventually and-"

you scoff. "are you going to actually talk to me? because i'm fine with out arrangement," you lie.

quinn stares at you with an unreadable expression. "look, it's not going to work"

"did the guys say something to you?" you bite. you reach your hand out to quinn but he pushes it away.

"no. i just don't think us being... involved... is a good idea anymore,"

"'involved'" you say sarcastically. you've been hooking up for three years now.

quinn stands up suddenly, "yeah. it's over - i'm over it,"

"okay?" youre defiant. "don't come begging to me when you see me with another guy - or when you need a quick lay. god, youre such an asshole!"

i wanna kiss you (yeah), don't wanna miss you (yeah) but i can't be with you 'cause i got issues yeah, on the surface, seem like it's easy careful with words, but it's still hard to read me

quinn didn't know why he shut everything down. he didn't want to - not really anyway. it was all so stupid and he shouldn't have reacted at all.

Stress high when the trust low (mmm) Bad vibes, where'd the fun go? (Oh) Try to open up and love more (love more) Try to open up and love more

the two friends move around each other awkwardly and the tension in the house was palpable. you start to skip out on summer activities, and quinn no longer seems to enjoy driving out into the lake when you were no longer sitting by his side. everything felt wrong.

If you were my boyfriend If you were my girlfriend I probably wouldn't see nobody else But I can't guarantee that by myself

"you know what, i'm glad we decided to all us quits. you were totally right! we wouldnt have made a good couple - you probably wouldnt have stopped seeing other people," your tone is scorching as you finally catch quinn alone.

"yeah well considering your track record you'd probably have gotten with somebody else before i even boarded my flight back to van," quinns quick to defend himself - leaving you reeling.

"what the fuck are you talking about?" you seethe, letting all your emotions wash over you at once.

"alex, that guy from u of m, the fucking football player!" quinn stresses the names of the last two, knowing those were the guys you hooked up while you were both at school.

you throw your arms up in the air, "you are such a hypocrite! do you know that? like seriously. lets not go tit for tat here quinn because trust i'll win every time,"

"everything always a game with you,"

you stare at him blankly. "what are we doing then? you told me the jealously was fun, you were the one who led me to your bed last week! you didn't want to get into a relationship in a first place!"

"so did you! don't spin this back on me!"

"i never said that!" you yell, "and i never got with alex,"

You ain't my boyfriend (boyfriend, you ain't my boyfriend) And I ain't your girlfriend (girlfriend, I ain't your girlfriend) But you don't want me to see nobody else (nobody) And I don't want you to see nobody

"you might as well be," quinn tries to bait you but you dont respond.

tears well up in your eyes, "you said you didn't see us being in an actual relationship"

at the sight of your tears quinn starts to backtrack. "im sorry-"

"no, i started all this," you say, wiping away your tears with the back of your sleeve. "i'm sorry for getting mad at you - i'm done,"

"what do you mean youre done?" quinn responds, following behind you as you walk back into the lake house. as soon as the sliding door slams shut heads turn towards the two of you.

"you said you were done and i agree," you say simply, tears threatening to spill over as you catch sight of luke staring at you in confusion.

without another word you storm up the stairs and begin packing your suitcase.

But you ain't my boyfriend (boyfriend, you know you ain't my boyfriend) And I ain't your girlfriend (girlfriend, yeah, mmm) But you don't want me to touch nobody else (nobody) Baby, we ain't gotta tell nobody (oh yeah)

your hands grip the steering wheel tightly as you drive the fifteen minute trip to your parents house. it was over, finally over between the two of you.

You ain't my boyfriend (boyfriend) And I ain't your girlfriend (girlfriend) But you don't want me to see nobody else And I don't want you to see nobody

a week went by, and everybody presses quinn on why you left.

"i don't know guys, stop asking me about it," his answer stays the same, although his undereyes get considerably darker as the days go by.

But you ain't my boyfriend (boyfriend) And I ain't your girlfriend (girlfriend, yeah) But you don't want me to touch nobody else (nobody) Baby, we ain't gotta tell nobody

˚₊ · »-♡→ [instagram]

yourusername

liked by _alexturcotte, jackhughes, yourfriend, and 1 403 others

yourusername baby loves 🎧

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yourfriend baby loves im tryna talk to youuuuu

yourusername theres a boy ! and i dont quite know... what to dooo

_alexturcotte stunner ⚡️

user01 did u and quinn have a fight or something ? why did u guys unfollow each other lololll

user05 literal princess !!!

user11 quinn unfollowed and alex commenting... 👀

_quinnhughes

liked by lhughes_06, bradytkachuk, 18 005 others

_quinnhughes summa with the brothers 🤟

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trevorzegras #Aesthetic

user08 no mention of yn... were cooked

user15 first summer photo numb in yearrrssss where yn didnt make a feature... 🫣👀

────୨ৎ──── ended insanely abruptly but i wanted to post something for u guys today😭

────୨ৎ────

────୨ৎ────

[audliminal]

It's just a game, right?

pt 2

"I just don't see how sitting around is gonna do anything!" Dash argues, face to face with Sam.

"Well, if you have other ideas you're more than welcome to offer them, but we can't just take out the giw. They have more manpower than us, more equipment, and the new agents actually seem to be competent in fights! And we are a bunch of high school students!"

They are all, ostensibly in English Class right now, but even Mr. lancer has forgone the illusion of normal classwork. He assigns books and hands out reading assignments every week, but nobody really cares whether they get turned in or not. The city, after all, has a much bigger problem.

"I don't know! But sitting here-"

"He's not entirely wrong, the longer we wait the more likely they figure it out, just like we all did." As Valerie finishes speaking, the room temperature drops noticeably, and the kids all glance nervously over at Danny who's head hasn't moved from it's spot on his desk. He almost seems dead with how still he is. Beside him Tucker stares at his PDA, the only one who hasn't reacted to the temperature change.

"Should I even ask what you're messing with?" Sam asks, walking over while the others stare nervously at Danny.

"Actually, yeah." Tucker easily shifts so they can both see the webpage displayed on the handmade tech. "I got something through."

"I thought getting stuff through wasn't really the problem?"

"I mean, yeah, they're letting Everything Is Normal posts through, but this wasn't. That. I was, um, kind of fucking around with ciphers and shit? Not saying anything relevant, but just seeing whether they'd flag any old weird shit, you know? And um. I got a video out."

"Okay, but how does that help us?" Valerie asks.

"It helps because if they let a cipher through then means if I encode shit well enough, then it'll also get through."

"But if it's, like, that hard to figure out what it says, then won't it be useless on the outside?"

"The chances of it getting into the hands of someone who could crack it do seem, uh, improbable."

"Not if we stack the deck."

"Wes-"

"No, listen, I know you're all still mad at me, but like. If you can attract a community of codebreakers? Then eventually someone will crack the code on what you need them to!"

"If you have an idea then just fucking say it, Wes," Sam snaps.

"Make an ARG. We can even have like, the base level be completely United to anything real, just make up a story about, i dunno, space travel? And then bury the actual info beneath that. Eventually somebody will crack into the real stuff, and if it's popular enough by then, and the GIW tries to suppress it? That'll be even more suspicious-looking, and just make them dig harder."

"What the fuck is a ARG?" Dash asks, pulling his gaze away from their definitely-just-sleeping classmate.

"Augmented reality game. It's like an unfiction thing. Make a story but the story is interactive and people have to decode shit to figure out what's going on." Tucker glances over to Wes. "And actually not a bad idea. If we all work together, we could probably make something cool."

"You could treat it as a class-wide project." Mr. Lancer says, making everyone jump. "That way I can back you up if anyone starts asking questions."

"Make it about black holes," Danny says, finally pulling himself up from his desk. "We can base it in wormhole theory, and distract the GIW with all the theoretical science."

"What, so like we make videos that seem like they're being sent through a black hole?"

"Fuckin. Sure, why not? As if shit couldn't get any weirder around here."

"Star, please try to refrain from swearing in front of me. I know the situation is - difficult - but I am officially still your teacher."

"Sorry, Lancer."

[sturnsdarling]

an unlikely friendship

{insp by @sturnioz au} fratboy!chris needs a girls help with a deal, and the only girl he knows he can trust, is fratboy!matts.

vibe check: suggestive between reader and matt at the start, drug dealing, doing drugs (coke and weed), drinking, bad vibes from the other frat boys, reader and chris being enemies to best friends damon and bonnie style

4.7k words (I yapped a bit on this oops)

A/N: this is kind of a follow up to the 'what the fuck is wrong with you' fic but also not really? idk bro its the duo we didn't know we needed. also the song I chose for this is one of the best songs to come out of the shit hole country I call home so give it a listen and i'm also fully aware that an american frat would never play this song but its my story so, kick rocks.

love and cigs, merc

You were hovering over Matt, kissing him through your whimpers as he matched your pace, fucking up into you as you bounced on his cock relentlessly.

Your daily dose of Matt was quickly interrupted by Chris, charging in the room with a spliff hanging from his lips.

"Yo, y/n, I need t'ask you somethin" Chris was completely un-phased by the sight of you on top of Matt, luckily covered by his duvet.

"Chris, what the fuck are you doin, dickhead" Matt said in a huff as you quickly clambered off him and onto to the bed, covering yourself in shock.

"kid, show me somthin' I ain't seen before and I'll start throwing racks over y'both" Chris raised his brows in his brothers direction before turning his attention to you, "y/n I need to talk to ya"

Matt rolled his eyes, pulling the duvet to bunch up over his still hard cock. You pulled the duvet up to cover yourself completely, looking at Chris in complete bafflement.

"can it wait? i'm kinda busy right now, Chris" you shifted where you sat, glancing down at the messy bed and back to Chris.

"nah, it can't" Chris replied, taking a long toke of his joint and dead panning

"you're fuckin' unbelievable" Matt huffed, draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you into him slightly "what do you want, kid"

"I need to take you on a deal i'm doin' tonight" Chris said.

"what?" you and Matt asked in unison, brows furrowed as Chris' face remained unchanged.

"what? am I fuckin' speaking Japanese or somethin'?" Chris' face scrunched up in annoyance, "I need ya for a deal"

"why me?" you ask, just as baffled as Matt beside you

"cause you're a girl" Chris shrugged, still toking on his joint.

"Chris, there is no way in ever loving fuck you're taking my girl to a fuckin' drug deal" Matt shook his head, annoyance thick in his voice.

Your heart swelled at the pet name, "your girl?" you craned your neck over to look at him, eyes flitting between his.

"yeah, my girl" Matt nodded with a smirk, edging his lips closer to yours as he repeated his words.

You locked your lips over his, your hand instantly coming to his jaw, pulling him into you with a giggle, he returned the kiss, tracing small circles on your shoulder with his soft finger tips.

"okay, if you two are gonna do this shit infront'a me can you pass me that cup cause i'm gonna fuckin' throw up" Chris said, retching at the sight of you and Matt all loved up.

"you came into my room, kid" Matt broke your kiss, pointing his attentions back to Chris as you chuckled

"anyway, s'not happening, find someone else" Matt shrugged stubbornly.

Chris groaned, rolling his eyes, "why, dude, y'being fuckin' annoying"

"why do you need a girl for the deal, anyway?" you asked, curious.

Chris toked his joint, "cause" he blew out the cloud of smoke in his mouth, "the house I'm goin' to is full of little bitches that've never felt the touch of a woman in their lives, you'll be like... bait"

"absolutely fuckin' not" Matt butted in, his voice stern.

"how bad could it really be?" you looked to Matt, somewhat intrigued by Chris' proposition and Chris' ears perked up at your curiosity

"are you stupid?" Matt looked at you instantly, brows furrowed, "angel, I am not lettin' you go to a frat house full of kids that wanna roofie you and fuck you on the campus green, nah, absolutely not" Matts grip tightened around you.

"first of all, i'm not fuckin' stupid, i'm smarter than you so, watch your mouth" you said, tone stern as Chris let out a little 'oh shit' from the end of the bed, "and second of all, i'm fully capable of looking after myself"

"and s'not like I'd let anything happen to her, I'll have her back" Chris added, trying to sound as uncaring as possible as not to let onto the fact that he actually thought you were alright.

"see, Chris will have my back" you mimicked Chris' words, flitting your eyes in Chris' direction whilst facing Matt, your face riddled with a cheeky smile at Chris actually being nice for once.

Matt groaned, rubbing his temples with a stretched hand across his forehead, "I don't know" he sighed

Chris' shoulders dropped, he sighed and rolled his head backwards before taking a deep breath and looking to the both of you, "look, y/n's the only girl I trust t'do this with me, kay? so either she comes, or it don't happen and I really need this deal to work"

You were slightly taken aback by Chris' honesty, shooting him a small smile that was met with a quick eye roll. You looked back to Matt who was looking at his brother, clenched jaw as he bit the inside of his cheek in thought.

"nothing happens to her, kay?" Matt said, after some deliberation.

"nothin" Chris nodded, standing to attention.

"cause I will personally see to your death, kid, like I will actually break every. single. bone. in your body until you're limp and heavy like a wet sock" Matt added, pointing a finger at Chris as excitement swelled in your body.

"super graphic, dude" Chris winced, "but fine, nothin happens or I die, got it"

Seeing Chris back down to Matt was always an interesting sight, it was like watching wolves fight for dominance. You squealed in excitement over the whole ordeal.

"I'm so excited, why am I excited?" You said, cheesing

"because you're a little sadist" Matt laughed, pulling you into a tender and short kiss, "if anything happens, you call me straight away, okay? anything"

you rolled your eyes, peppering another short kiss on Matts lips, "yes, Matthew, I will call you" you couldn't help but smile at Matts protectiveness over you, it was nice to never have to worry, you knew he had you, always.

"good girl" Matt smirked, "now, Chris, get the fuck out" he turned his attention to his brother as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into you.

"be ready by eight, kid" Chris said, walking away but looking at you over his shoulder.

"will do" you chuckled, turning to pull Matt into a sloppy kiss, Chris groaned and walked out the room, slamming the door behind him.

Later that night,

You were getting ready in Matts room, putting on your best 'bait' outfit and applying a smooth layer of red lipstick. Matt watched in awe as you stretched your plump lips open, applying the red tint to the corners of your mouth. You caught him staring at you in the mirror and chuckled at his slack jaw appearance.

"maybe you shouldn't go" Matt said, coming up behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Matthew" you rolled your eyes, putting the lid on your lipstick and turning around, wrapping your arms over his shoulders, "everything will be fine, I'm a big girl, okay? I can look after myself"

Matts hands snaked around your waist, making you arch into him, "I know, angel, but-" he sighed, "you're my girl, I don't really like the idea of you bein' bait for a drug deal, fuckin' hate it actually"

You cheesed at the pet name, it was his favourite thing to call you today and you weren't complaining.

"I'll be fine, I promise" You said, inching your red lips close to his as his lips parted in anticipation, you chuckled at his subtle neediness for you, knowing you were the only one who got to see him like this. You pulled your face away with a smirk and Matt tutted, raising his hand to your jaw quickly and pulling your face towards his with brute force, capturing your lips in a messy kiss.

You whimpered on instinct, arching into him as his hand came down to knead at the flesh of your skirt covered ass before placing a firm smack on one of your cheeks. You squealed with a smile, pulling away from him. Matt gazed down at you, red lipstick smeared across his lips. You giggled, bringing your thumb to his lips to wipe the stain away and Matt caught your thumb between your teeth with a teasing bite and squeezed your ass once more.

Your moment was interrupted by Chris once again, bounding into the room with, surprise surprise, a joint hanging from his lips.

"you ready, kid?" Chris said.

You peered at him over Matts shoulder and Matt turned his head to look at him. You dropped your hands from Matts shoulders, stepping out from in front of him so Chris could see your outfit.

"how do I look?" you smiled, holding your arms out in display.

"like a slut" Chris toked his joint and you cocked your eyes to the side with a half smile.

"dude" Matt warned from next to you.

"what?" Chris shrugged, "it's perfect" He grinned.

You hummed a satisfied sound and patted your skirt down, admiring your, according to Chris, slutty outfit.

"lets go, it's eight" Chris said putting his joint out in the ashtray on the table by the door after one final, long toke.

"okay" you smiled, turning to Matt to kiss him goodbye. His hands found your face instantly as you slotted your lips around his, Chris groaning behind the two of you.

"see you later" You pulled away from the kiss, hands wrapped around Matts wrists.

"see you later, angel, stay pretty for me, kay?" he smiled, placing another short kiss on your lips.

"mhm" you nodded, turning to face Chris with an excited smile.

As you walked away, Matt placed an encouraging slap on your ass. You walked past Chris, sauntering down the stairs. Just before he could follow you, Chris' shoulder was in Matts grip.

"what, kid" he huffed, but was cut off by the sight of Matt glaring at him.

"if anythin' happens to her, I will fuckin' end you," he said, his tone threatening as he spoke through gritted teeth.

Chris rolled his eyes, "Kid -" he went to speak.

"I'm serious, Chris. She's very fuckin' important to me and if she gets even close to hurt 'cause of you, we will have big fuckin' problems" Matt added, glaring at Chris.

Matts tone made Chris shift in his skin, completely unafraid of his brother but knowing what he's capable of when he's upset.

"m'not gonna let anythin' happen to her, kid, I promise, she's safe with me" Chris said, keeping Matts eye contact to show his sincerity.

"good, I trust you" Matt said, dropping his hand from Chris' shoulder.

Chris prodded the side of his cheek with his tongue and raised his brows quickly, trying not to let on that Matt trusting him was more important to him than anything.

"see ya later, angel" Chris mocked Matt, walking out the room with a chuckle.

The walk to the house was a lot less awkward than you thought it would be.

"so, whats the deal with this whole 'i need this to go well' thing?" you asked, looking to Chris with a cigarette between your lips, "why's it so important?"

"it just is, kid, why you askin' questions like you give a fuck" Chris tutted, looking you up and down with judgement.

You chuckled at his defensiveness, raising your hands in jesting surrender as you let your cig hang from your lips, "alright" you raised your brows and widened your eyes.

Chris looked at you and rolled his eyes with a sigh, pulling the preroll our from its tucked position behind his ear, he put the joint in his mouth and lit it, cupping the end with one hand as he sparked the lighter with the other. He took a long toke before blowing the smoke into the air.

"this house is one of two houses I don't sell to on the entire campus" Chris said, his voice strained slightly as he blew out the smoke.

"right" you said, encouraging him to talk.

"and, as we speak, Nate is at the other, working his Boston charm on the little christian girls of kappa kappa new" Chris smiled at you, raising his brows as he took another joke of his joint.

"and I know that thats a done deal, so, if we get this house tonight, i'll officially be the dealer of the whole fuckin' college" Chris raised his arms, turning as he gestured to the dark, street lamp lit campus.

you chuckled at his gesture, raising your brows quickly, "you sure do have big aspirations, Chris"

Chris tutted, "don't judge me, wise ass, not everyone can be a genius like you or Matthew" Chris mocked your voice as he said his brothers name.

"hey, I'm not judging" You raised your hands again

"you definitely are, kid" Chris rolled his eyes, returning his attention back to the street as he toked his joint.

"nah, i'm not, I think what you do is actually pretty cool" You shrugged, being honest.

"really?" Chris looked to you again, his face screwed up in confusion.

"yeah, you gotta be clued up to be able to do what you do, it's kinda admirable, in a... weird way" you nodded at him, holding his eye contact.

He didn't say anything at first, only fought the smile trying to crawl onto his face. Chris chuckled, shaking his head "thanks, kid, but I don't really need your approval to do what I do"

You rolled your eyes, retreating back into silence at Chris' incessant standoffishness.

When you got to house, you adjusted your outfit as you stood in the front garden, the music booming from the house as Chris finished his joint.

"you look fine, kid, stop faffin" Chris tutted.

"I know I look fine, asshole, I don't need your approval" you copied his earlier words with a grimacing look.

Chris couldn't help but laugh, you were the only person that spoke to him like that and he wasn't sure why he didn't want to throw you in front of a car because of it.

"when we get in there, jus stay close to me, y'don't even need to speak" Chris said, throwing his joint on the floor.

"so what the fuck am I here for then?" You tutted.

Chris groaned, "you know how car dealerships always have a hot chick standing by the car?" he tilted his head at you.

"yeah?" you scrunched your face at him.

"car" he pointed to himself, "hot chick" and then to you

"right" you said, bluntly.

"trust me, I know these boys n' they'll do anythin' to even look at a girl, let alone be associated with one, even if it is through their dealer" Chris added, hearing him speak about dealing made you see how smart he really was, and you felt yourself begin to kind of respect him

"so, just be a hot girl and help you sell product by doing nothing but being a hot girl?" you summarised.

"exactly" Chris smirked, slightly admiring your willingness to help him with this.

"I can do that" you shrugged, throwing your cigarette on the floor and stamping it out under your boot.

"thats why ya here, kid" Chris turned and walked towards the house, you followed him, puffing your chest out slightly and painting your features with a sly confidence.

The whole house was vibrating with people, 'Traktor' by Wretch 32 blaring through the speakers as you and Chris walked through, everyone turning to look at you both as Chris' presence cleared a path.

The whole party seemed to shift as Chris walked in, everyone whispering about the two of you, you heard mutters as you walked behind Chris, picking up the ends of sentences like 'who is that with him?' and others like 'I swear thats his brothers girl'. You had never developed the crippling gene that made people care about what other people thought of them, so knowing that everyone was talking about you didn't bother you in the slightest, maybe thats why Chris asked you to do this with him.

Chris was dapping up people as he walked through, seeing some personal regulars. He introduced you to everyone as 'Matts girl', some you already knew from spending so much time at the boys' frat house, others you had only met in passing or not at all.

Once Chris had manoeuvred you both through to the kitchen, you were met with a sight you despised. An entire group of frat boys, all clad in chinos and polo shirts, playing beer pong, terribly, and chest bumping each other every time the tiny ball entered the red cup.

"this is my personal hell" You said to Chris, resting your arm on his shoulder as you lent your body weight on him.

"you and me both" Chris chuckled, "lets go, it's game time"

Chris walked over, his demeanour shifting slightly as he approached them. He shifted from just Chris to dealer Chris, carrying an ampt up air of 'don't fuck with me' and a broadness in his shoulders that was honestly fascinating to watch.

You followed suit, pushing your hair back from your chest to hang down your back, leaving your cleavage on full display as you adjusted your walk, swaying your hips with purpose and swallowing all the hilarious jokes at the group of boys' expense you were definitely going to tell Matt later.

"yo, Chris, how you livin' bro?" One of the boys noticed Chris as you walked towards them.

"sup, Cody, was' good?" Chris dapped him up, shooting a nod at the rest of the boys' frat brothers.

"who's this?" Cody asked, gesturing to you and looking you up and down, near enough licking his lips at the sight of you.

"This is y/n, she's Matts girl" Chris replied, "y/n, this is Cody, he's the president of the frat" Chris looked to you, shooting you a short look that you understood immediately.

"hi" you smiled at the boy, blinking at him like a cat, "where can I get a drink?" you asked, putting on your best sorority persona.

"I like this girl" Cody looked to Chris who raised his brows quickly in response, "drinks table is over there, sweetheart" He pointed over to the far end of the room, "yo, packer, get Chris' pretty friend here a drink" He turned to shout to one of his frat brothers.

Packer did as he was told immediately, and within seconds you had a drink in your hand.

"Thanks, Packer" you said, brushing the boys hand for a moment as you took the drink from him and took a sip, returning your attentions to the boy who was undressing you with his eyes.

It made your skin crawl, in all honesty you wanted to throw the drink in his face, knee him in the balls and spit on his convulsing body, but, you had a role to play.

"so, I'm here 'cause I heard that your dealer got put away, and you boys in dire need of a new supplier" Chris said, pulling Cody's attention away from you.

"thats right" Cody smirked, trying to be as confident as he could in Chris' presence.

"well, I got everything ya need, bro, what'cha want" Chris shrugged, selling a pen to a writer and being effortlessly charismatic.

Cody chuckled, nodding his head and pressing his tongue to his teeth, "I told you last semester Chris, I dunno if the boys wanna be associated with you like that"

Chris rolled his eyes, "Cody, bro, who's in charge here? the boys? or you?" Chris lightly poked the boys shoulder, asserting dominance over him without even trying.

Cody thought for a moment, looking back at the boys as they continued to be terrible at beer pong.

"that is true" He nodded, looking back to Chris, "but, we gotta try before we buy, you gotta party with us" Cody added.

Chris opened his mouth to speak and looked to you for a moment, you looked up at him, furrowing your brows slightly with a small cock of your head.

"I dunno about that, bro, this ain't really my crowd" Chris said, shaking his head.

Before Cody could try and convince him, your arm was rested on Chris' shoulder once more, getting his attention.

"oh, come on, Chris, the boys wanna party, let's show em how we party" you said, your voice thick with faux encouragement disguising the message you were praying Chris was picking up on.

Chris narrowed his eyes at you and you widened yours, with a tense jaw, he turned to Cody, "alright, lets party"

Cody smiled and wrapped his arm round Chris' shoulder, guiding him over to his frat brothers and you followed them, cheesing at Chris cheekily as he shot you a glaring look from over his shoulder.

"lets do some shots!" you shouted, raising an arm and skipping over to the drinks table to get shot glasses and a bottle of vodka.

The drinks started to flow, and at some point, Chris actually looked like he was enjoying himself.

You and Chris were killing it; you beat everyone at beer pong, declaring yourself the duo of all duo's; at one point you were on a table, pouring straight liquor into Chris' mouth from about three feet up, surrounded by hoards of frat boys all cheering you on; you were arm wresting with frat boys, Chris acting as your coach, rubbing your shoulders and patting your face town with a vodka soaked tea towel as if you were a world champion boxer. It was actually, a lot of fun.

You had ten shots lined up, moving down the line side by side to do five shots each. You both knocked them back with ease, shooting one after the other like it was water. When you got to the final shot, you let out a loud 'whoop', echoed by Chris, who groaned at the feeling of pure vodka slipping down his throat. You held your hands up, asking for a high five of Chris and, in his drunken state, he complied, hitting your hands with his with brute force. You laughed loudly, cheesing at him, giving him a look that he knew meant 'its working'.

Cody and his frat brothers were around you, cheering you on as they struggled to keep up. Cody couldn't keep his eyes off you and, despite the sick feeling it gave you in your stomach, it gave you an idea.

"give me a baggy" You leant up to whisper in Chris' ear.

"what? why?" Chris said, shaking his head slightly.

"Just, trust me" you pulled away from his shoulder, nodding at him and holding your hand up.

Chris reached into his pocket, pulled out a baggy of coke and placed it in your palm, brows furrowed in curiosity as he watched you saunter over to Cody.

He couldn't quite make out what you were saying, but as you approached Cody he saw your whole energy shift, you went from your usual cold and standoffish self to a welcoming and flirty girl, Chris couldn't help but be somewhat proud.

You approached Cody, placing your hand on his chest with the baggy tucked between your fingers and got on your tip toes to talk directly into his ear.

"get your keys out" You said, putting on your best slurring drunk voice.

Cody did as you said, reaching into his pocket and handing you his keys with a smirk. You opened the baggy, keeping eye contact with him as you loaded just enough to sniff onto the end. You raised it to Cody's nose, placing a delicate finger on his nostril, your eye contact never wavering.

Cody snorted the lump of coke off the metal, his whole face scrunching up at the sensation of it shooting up his nose. You giggled, taking the key and licking it clean, batting your lashes at him before placing his keys back in his hand, letting your hand linger on his for a moment before turning away and walking back over to Chris, your face dropping from a smile the instant Cody couldn't see your expression.

Chris laughed, shaking his head in slight awe at you as you rolled your eyes, still swaying your hips, knowing Cody was looking at you.

"that was genius" Chris said as you reached his side, leaning on the counter and pouring yourself another drink.

"I know" you shrugged with a smile, taking a sip and turning back to face the party.

Chris watched as Cody bragged to his friends about what had just happened, telling everyone how hot you were and how good Chris' coke is. You nudged Chris with your shoulder and he grinned down at you, you cocked your head towards the frat boys and he pushed your shoulder jestingly, walking over to the group of boys, reaching into his pocket and handing out baggies, taking rolls of cash in return.

You stayed tucked away against the counter, watching as Chris pulled in cash endlessly, handing out bags of coke and weed to almost everyone at the party. At one point, he didn't even need to ask people if they wanted anything, they were coming to him and all he had to do was name his price. You smiled behind your cup, knowing that this is exactly how he wanted the night to go and happy that you got to be a part of this strange exchange.

Through the crowd of people, Chris found your eye-line, shooting you a grateful wink, one you returned before slamming your drink.

you pulled out your phone, vision only slightly blurry from the amount you had drunk. You messaged Matt, letting him know that everything had gone perfectly and that you and Chris were actually getting along.

You were snapped out of your text conversation by Chris saying your name, "you ready to go, kid?" he asked.

"yes, desperately, I can feel myself getting stupider just be being here" you groaned, following Chris as he walked you both through the party.

the walk home was actually, nice.

"when you loaded that key for him, I actually thought the kids knees were gonna buckle" Chris laughed, taking a long toke of his joint before offering you some.

You shook your head at his offer, reaching into your bra and pulling your cigarettes out, placing one in your mouth and using the end of Chris' joint to light it.

"dude he was literally shaking, like even being around me was enough to make him cream his pants" you chuckled, smoke leaving your mouth as you spoke.

Chris keeled over in laughter as he walked beside you, "it was fuckin' genius, kid, you're comin' on every deal with me when I have t'pretend to like those fuckin' losers"

"I'm happy to be of service" you said, curtsying at Chris with a ridiculous smirk on your face, your cigarette dangling from your lips.

Chris just laughed at your gesture, shaking his head as he toked his joint. You both walked in comfortable silence for a while, heading back to the frat house. You thought about the night, about how if you had told you a week ago that you would go out with Chris, and actually enjoy yourself, you would have laughed in your face.

"you know, I had a really good time tonight" you said, surprise thick in your voice.

Chris looked over to you and a cocked brow, "don't sound too surprised kid, m'not that bad"

"nah, you're not, you're actually kinda pleasant to be around when you're not being a cocky shit" you jested, pointing your cigarette at Chris accusingly.

"thanks, I guess" Chris chuckled, "you're not too bad either, kid"

you gasped, holding your hand to your chest, "did the Christopher Sturniolo just admit that he actually likes hanging out with me?" you said in exaggerated shock.

Chris rolled his eyes, taking a final toke of his joint and flicking the dead butt in your direction, you laughed, dodging the attack and ashing your cigarette at him.

"don't get too crazy, I wouldn't say I like hangin' out with ya" he smiled, "but I did have fun"

you walked the rest of the way home in silence, only breaking it to occasionally giggle about the events of the night or for Chris to tell you he needed to 'take a leak'. You had a surprisingly nice night, and for the first time since you had known him, you were beginning to actually like Chris, finally seeing what Matt meant when he says that he isn't 'all bad'. Chris shared your near admiration, seeing you for more than the confrontational, for lack of a better word, bitch that was fucking his brother and best friends with his girl.

It was an unlikely friendship, but it was definitely blossoming.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous

[tpwk-formula1]

Hi, could I get a gluten free crust with red sauce. For toppings I’d like tomatoes, basil, broccoli, pineapple and mozzarella. For drinks I’d like some lemonade (reader receiving), sun tea and coke. And a dessert please. With Lando

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

gluten-free enemies to lovers red sauce rough sex tomatoes "Do you enjoy pissing me off?" basil "I love to watch my cum leak from your pretty pussy" broccoli "Made just for me huh?" pineapple "Look so pretty wrapped around my cock" mozzarella "All you ever do is bitch and complain, just fucking take it” lemonade body worship sun tea sir kink coke spanking served by Lando Norris

Lando x rival reader

TW rough sex, dirty talk, creampie, multiple orgasms, spanking

WC 1400+

Y/N POV

"Lando, go back to the McLaren garage," I tell him softly while walking through the Ferrari garage trying to get to my driver's room but quickly being stopped due to the boy in papaya currently hot on my heels.

"Just let me explain myself," Lando basically shouts while still following me by the time I reach the door.

I just grab his arm and drag him into my room quickly not wanting anyone's eyes to be on us.

"Lando there's nothing to explain! We aren't together I do not give a fuck if you're seeing another girl. I just would have liked to know before getting a message to leave you alone," I tell him softly while starting to pack up my room getting ready to go back to my hotel after a long qualifying day.

"But I'm not with her! I spent one night during summer break with her," Lando defends making me shrug my shoulders and finish packing up.

"It's not my business what you do Lando. I truly don't give a fuck," I tell him softly before heading to the door and exiting my driver's room knowing Lando would follow and truthfully would probably just come back with me from the paddock and stay in my hotel.

"Are you coming or not?" I ask when I stand at the door waiting for Lando to exit. He just shrugged his should and followed me out and into the parking lot where I quickly found the Range Rover I had rented for the weekend not really caring to have some crazy sports car.

Lando quickly climbed into the drivers seat making me roll my eyes before getting into the passengers seat and allowing for Lando to drive us to the hotel.

"Do you enjoy pissing me off?" Lando questions into the silent car making me scoff at the attitude.

"I don't see how any of this is my fault, you're the one who started seeing another girl and deciced to not tell me until I'm getting bombarded by her and all her friends in my DMs," I reply back which had Lando gripping my thigh with his big hand harder.

"I told you, it was one fucking date. I didn't know I had to inform you of my every move. You're the one who has made it so clear that we are nothing more than some rivals on track who fuck in their off time," Lando says clearly getting more frustrated the more he talked. He lands a soft slap on my thigh making me whimper slightly.

When we finally got back to the hotel nothing had been resolved between us, leaving me to lead Lando into my hotel room in awkward silence before he pushed me onto the bed and climbed on top of me where he pins my arms above my head and starts kissing around my neck.

"Lando, if you're seeing someone you need to stop," I gasp when I feel his teeth sink into my sweet spot he knows I loved so much.

"I'm only seeing you and how you take my cock so well," Lando mumbles against my neck before slowly sliding my shirt up and off my body and throwing it somewhere in the room.

"Lando, is this even a good idea anymore?" I question when he starts trailing kissing down my neck making me whimper when he starts biting at the part of my tits that are spilling over my bra.

"I don't know why one date I go on is making you question if this is a good idea. It was one fucking date. I'm not gonna stop fucking this pussy until the day I die," Lando roughly tells me before he unclips my bra and tosses it across the room to join my shirt.

Once my bare tits are exposed to Lando he starts kissing at them while telling me how pretty they are.

"No tits are better than these ones," Lando mumbles making me whimper slightly.

"I love that by the time I'm down with these tits you'll be soaked and ready for me to fuck your pretty pussy," Lando groans while pulling my legging downs leaving me in the black thong I had thrown on after FP.

"Lando I need you," I whimper out, but quickly scream when Lando lands a rough slap on my thigh.

"Try again," Lando says roughly making me try to grind my hips up into him.

"Please," I whimper.

This just had Lando flipping me over and starting to hand harsh slaps on my ass making me whimper.

"Lando, too hard," I whine again only making Lando spank me harder still not getting what he wanted.

"All you ever do is bitch and complain, just fucking take it,” Lando says clearly getting frustrated.

"Sir, please fuck me," I finally submit when I can no longer take his brutal attack on my ass.

This had Lando ripping my thong from my body leaving it to be a sad string of fabric before he roughly shoved them into my mouth and quickly takes off his clothes before he shoved his cock deep into my pussy making me whimper.

Lando gives me no time to adjust to his cock, but it didn't matter cause all I could feel was the overwhelming pleasure coursing through my body.

"Made just for me huh?" Lando questions when he realizes how well I was taking him now. When we had first started sleeping together he had to go slow because I could barely fit in and now I could take him with ease, even if I still could feel the stretch.

"More, sir" I gasp begging for more. Lando starts thrusting harder making me moan loudly not caring if anyone else in the hotel could hear us. Lando fucks me a few more seconds in doggy before repositions us so I could ride his cock a bit.

"Fuck," I whimper when I feel his cock pressing against my cervix before I start bouncing roughly on his cock making his cock continuously hit my cervix in quick succession.

"Look so pretty wrapped around my cock," Lando whimpers when he feels me speeding up my actions. While Lando had always been the dominant one but I have always loved it when I had him whimpering for me.

"You sound so pretty when you whimper for me," I say with a smirk across my face making Lando's eyes snap open at the praise and darken with lust before he flips us over and starts flowing into my pussy in missionary.

"Don't get fucking smart with me," Lando says while slapping down right on my clit making me whimper.

"Can I cum please," I gasp when Lando starts teasing my clit with his fingers?

"Go on, make yourself useful and cum for me," Lando groans making the band in my tummy finally snap making them start shaking all over Lando's cock while cumming harder than normal.

"Sir! Fuck!" I scream when he keeps fucking into me prolonging my orgasm when I feel him start painting my walls with his hit cum making me whimper when I can feel the tip of his cock nudging against my G-spot sending me into another smaller orgasm.

Lando helps ride my mini orgasm out before slowly slipping out watching some of his cum spills from my convulsing pussy.

"I love to watch my cum leak from your pretty pussy," Lando groans when he sees some of his cum starting to pool on the bedspread.

"Fuck," I gasp still trying to catch my breath when Lando lays next to me and pulls me into his chest where he starts rubbing my back softly.

"Will you please go on a date with me?" Lando asks making me laugh .ightly.

"If you win from pole position and lead after lap 1 I will go on a date with you," I reply softly making Lando groan.

"All the motivation I need," Lando replies back making me laugh softly before both of us fall asleep in each other's arms.

In the morning we showered together before heading to the paddock where Lando proceeded to get pole position and later Sunday he went on to lead the entire race and even beat Max by over 20 seconds. When we were standing on the podium together Lando whispered in my ear that we had a dinner planned for midnight.

I just laugh and shake my head before drowning the man in champagne. I guess he just needed a bit of motivation to finally break the curse.

[freakyformula]

Getaway

Summary: Reader is stressed out about school and Oscar helps her relax by inviting her to Silverstone.

Writers comment: Not proofread nor actually thought through I'm sorry in advance.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, fingering, oral (both receiving), safe sex.

Word count: 1,6k

You felt the autumn breeze against your skin as you walked home along the grey UK streets. All you wanted was to drift off to sleep and skip the rest of the day. But then, you realize that you have a school assignment that you have to finish, the deadline is today.

”Fuck…” you mutter to yourself.

Your attention is turned to your phone as it starts to vibrate. You light up when you see Oscar, your boyfriend's name on the screen.

”Hi Osc.”

”Uh oh, someone’s not happy…” He knows you like the back of his hand.

"Yeah well I've got so much homework and all I want is to relax." You complain.

The whole way home, you and Oscar talk, and as always, he cheers you up and when you open the door to your apartment your energy levels are restored again. Oscar had that effect on you.

OSCAR POV

Oscar sits at Silverstone and the McLaren hospitality as Lando walks up and sits down next to him, having listened in to the conversation Oscar and his girlfriend just had.

"Is she okay?" Lando asks with a tinge of concern as Oscar frown when you end the call.

"Yeah… She's just tired." Oscar smiles back at his teammate.

"Mate, make her happy and invite her here! No, demand she comes here, for her own good. I think she needs some time away." Lando exclaims.

"Yeah Lando, you're probably right. How do I convince her though?"

"Tell her you'll win if she comes." Lando quickly comments.

That night, you facetime each other as usual, and that is when his plan gets put into action.

"Hey, babe?" Oscar calls, "I've booked plane tickets for you for tomorrow, you're coming to watch me race. You better start packing your bags."

"You did what?!" She panics.

"You heard me."

"Ugh, Oscar, I don't have time! I've got so much stuff to do." She mutters under her breath but Oscar has no trouble hearing what she said.

"Y/N, you're literally finishing up on that assignment as we speak and there's no deadlines coming up in weeks. I'm sure you can make time for me, it's only a couple of days." Oscar comments.

"…I hate and love you so much, Oscar Piastri." She smiles at him with tears threatening to run down her cheeks.

And just like that school was out of her mind. She was focused on the race weekend and got busy packing outfits and showed them off to Oscar, giving him a tease of what was to come.

Saturday went well, and the two McLarens ending up at the front for tomorrow's race.

At the hotel, Oscar is sitting on the bed, nervously waiting for her to arrive. When his phone pings, letting him know that she's on her way to the hotel, he runs down to the lobby to welcome her.

"Welcome to Silverstone, my love!" Oscar hugs her tightly.

"Hi Osc, I'm so happy to see you."

"Shall we?" He says as he leads her into the elevator.

The vibe is instantly there, and he can't seem to tear his eyes and hands off her when they step out of the elevator, finding their way to the room.

Oscar walks behind her and holds her close, pressing his hardening member against her back. The height difference was notable like this, Oscar was considerably taller than her.

Her clear annoyance with the key card not working tells him that she wants this too.

When it finally opens, he pushes her inside, closes the door behind him and throws her bags to the side.

He walks closer, their lips almost touching. He creeps down to her jeans and unbuttons them.

"Eager, are we?" She asks him.

"You can't blame me, I've got the world's most beautiful girl in front of me."

She chuckles at his comment, and looks up at him amused.

Y/N POV

The feeling of him against you felt like heaven, and you grew more needy by the second. You needed him right now.

You slide your hands under his tee and study his strong torso with your fingertips. Slowly, you grow more courageous and move your hands further up, until Oscar takes the hint and gets rid of his shirt while he is busy kissing you. He starts at your cheek, working down your neck and crouching down to attack your chest.

His treatment makes you let out a small moan, making him giggle.

"You're so pathetic, my sweet girl. A little kissing and you're already moaning like a good little whore."

Hearing his degrading words makes you look away, embarrassed.

Oscar doesn't like that and grabs your hair to turn you back to look him in the eyes.

"You're my good girl, are you not?" He asks as he leads you into the bedroom.

"I'm your good girl." You confirm.

"Then kneel and suck."

You gulp and do as he says, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his shorts while you look at him. He grabs your hair and fixes it into a makeshift ponytail as he pushes your face against his already rock-hard cock.

Desperate to be good to him, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out for him.

"Oh my lord... Ready?" He checks in.

You nod and bend forward and take a taste of his tip. You slowly go deeper with each bob of your head, making Oscar moan. You can feel his thighs shaking from your treatment as you steady yourself on them with your hands.

He must have been too carried away because when he starts pumping into the back of your throat, you begin to gag and the tears start to stream down your cheeks. He quickly pulls you off, apologizing immensely, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

Helping you up from your knees, he grabs you under the ass and carries you to the bed, throwing you onto the sheets. He quickly follows and lands next to you and starts by pulling your oversized hoodie off and then moving on with the jeans. Much to his surprise, you didn't wear a bra under the hoodie. The two peaks were looking at him invitingly and he gladly accepts, moving down to suck and massage them, moving from one to another.

You're a moaning mess at this point, bucking you hips up towards him. You deem Oscar too slow and grab the lining to your string panties, starting to pull them down when he grabs your hands.

"Let me do it, love." He states as he pulls them down, looking at the creation before him, in complete awe.

He leans down and kisses your red and tender lips, sucking them even more raw.

You let out a disappointed groan as he parts the kiss but quickly lighten up as he moves down to your aching pussy. He parts your drenched lips with his fingers and tastes you, letting out a desperate moan. He can't stop himself, and dives in, completely destroying you.

You're practically screaming at this point, and as you realise how loud you are, you try to silence yourself but quickly fail when he nibbles at your puffy clit, making you yelp.

He starts to tease your entrance with his middle finger, circling around it and collecting the wetness.

Slowly, he slides it in, making you moan loudly again.

"Jesus, my love, you're so wet and tight for me.", his words make you moan even louder.

Then, another finger.

When he starts pumping and ravaging your pussy with his mouth, you can't hold back and let out a desperate scream.

"Schhhh… It's okay, Y/N. Are you gonna cum for me?"

The only answer you can manage to get out of your lungs is a quick "nghyeah" which only spurs Oscar on.

He pumps even harder and his tongue is probably exhausted from the pleasuring.

When you feel your orgasm wash over you, you stop breathing. Your whole body freezes, making you see white. Grabbing anything you can, which happens to be a pillow and Oscar's hair, you scream out and catch up on your breath as you come down from your high.

"Do you think you can take me now?" He asks with a smirk on his stupidly adorable face.

You nod and he quickly grabs a condom and you help him put it on.

You pick your legs up and he hovers over you, admiring your dripping heat again before he takes you.

He lines up with your pulsing entrance and reads your face when his large member intrudes you. The stretch is painful at first but soon subsides and all you can feel is pure fucking pleasure. He starts out slow but picks up the pace quickly, destroying your pussy.

Usually when having sex with Oscar, it wasn't just you two fucking, but rather you two making love and doing something special to each other. Looking after one another, one could say.

Oscar didn't like the term "love makers" but that's what people probably would brand you as.

This time though, things felt different. Things were more intense, and the pace was quicker. Why, you didn't know, but you assumed it was because of you being apart for a couple of weeks.

"Are you gonna cum once more?" He breathes out.

"Yeaaaah…" You yell lazily, and with that, you cum again, and Oscar soon following, being a yelling and cursing mess. As you realise how pathetic you both sound, you burst out into laughter.

"What?!" Oscar asks.

"We sound like a pair of horny teenagers!" You laugh hysterically.

"Well… We kind of are."

"Very true." You comment.

"So anyway… Round two?"

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

It was another competion the entire family all shoving and pushing each other into the car to see more of Damian's art.

Tim is excited for Damian.

He knows what it's like, to stand there and have no one show up. To be there all by yourself for hours the only one to visit your booth being the art teacher.

Ms. Carrington who would ask questions and ignore the tears that pooled in his eyes before helping him pack everything up, sometimes even driving him home because of course neither his parents or Bruce could be bothered to pick him up.

He can't really help the envy that he can feel building in his chest mixing with a good chunk of repressed anger.

A elbow being jabbed into his ribs distracts him.

"Hey what's with the face? Perk up Boy-Loser it's Damian's night."

He turns to Steph the smile that he had been attempting to plaster on falling. It's such a stupid thing it's a nickname so what if it's demeaning, he gets called pretender or replacement by Jason what does it matter.

"Do you ever think it's kinda fucked up that not a single person in this family calls me anything that isn't an insult?" He snaps.

She looks shocked. How fucking dare he have an ounce of self esteem. Someone alert the Media Tim Drake isn't a dormat.

He turns away sliding into the crowd.

There's less then half an hour left before he can leave. Pratically throwing himself down in the empty hallway as far as he can get from this entire night.

"Baby bird and Timmy aren't insults? Or are they I can't seem to keep up with the kids these days."

He turns, of course. You might be able to run from Batman or lie to him, but you can never escape the grasp of Big Brother Nightwing.

"So your admitting that your old?" he joins the banter.

His muscles start to unclench another superpower only Dick Grayson seems to have.

"Never, something you want to talk about?"

Does he? No. Should he? Yah.

"Maybe I just don't want be insulted every day of my life. So weird who doesn't want to be reminded they suck?"

He can hear the whine, he can also hear that everything he just said isn't gonna matter. You don't take whiny little boys seriously. And that's what he is.

"Hmm you know I get called Dickhead or really a lot of just penis related jokes. Always hated them not that it really stops anyone."

He looks finally making eye contact with his big brother. Because he's right. How many times has he heard anyone in the family other than him and Damian call Dick anything nice. Never not once. Maybe Bruce but he can't really picture it.

"Also don't think I didn't notice how annoyed you are with Bruce about this entire night, which I don't blame you for. You know I love Damian kiddo, but yah Bruce is not winning a mug from me or you."

He doesn't really want to acknowledge any of that already exhausted and he will have to apologize to Steph and if he opens the box it will be a car ride from hell home.

"Luckily for you I have a car parked a block up we can escape get ice cream and have a nice sleepover in bludhaven."

He wants to so bad, he wants to throw himself at Dick who knows him so well, who followed him out here, who isn't blinking, the only adult who has ever not somehow fucked him over.

"What about Damian? He will be pissed at me for stealing you or something. He doesn't need another reason to stab me."

He turns to look back at the floor.

"Foolish Drake I will be coming with you Father is being insesently annoying and I much rather talk about art with someone who has a brain cell."

Both him and Dick whip around to see Damian standing there a slight blush on his face hesitation making the corner of mouth twitch. He sees Dick looking on unsure. He doesn't hesitate.

"Thank god I know a great place with that Vegan Cookie Dough you like. What you waiting for Big Bird? Let's go. "

Climbling to his feet he grabs Dick and Damian dragging them to the exit he hears Dick's confused muttering sharing a secret smile with Damian before ignoring it.

The night is finally looking up.

[jungkit]

yang jungwon- ache for you

jw x f!reader ☯︎ fluff, angst ☯︎ cursing, suggestive ☯︎ wc 842 ☯︎ not proofread

You considered Jungwon one of your close friends, having grown up next to each other and your families being close.

Where you were, he was.

And you hate to admit it, but over time, you grew to have a crush on him.

You can’t help it! He’s grown to be such a good person, not to mention handsome.

You’re certainly not the only one either.

It’s almost everyday you hear one girl or another talking about Jungwon.

You know they envy you for being close to him, but even so, you think he only sees you as a friend.

So, you’ve kept your feelings secret.

There have been numerous times where you’ve wanted to confess, but chickened out every time.

You can’t help but swoon whenever Jungwon talks about you to others, which is why when you hear him mention your name, you can’t help but listen around the corner of the hallway.

“She’s so fucking annoying. I get we’ve been friends since we were kids but it’s like I can never escape her. She’s always there, always clinging to me somehow, I wish she’d just back off.”

You feel your heart crack as you take in his words.

Is this how he’s felt about you all along? Or was this a recent feeling?

Either way, tears prick your eyes as you take a step back.

Without warning, someone turns the corner, coming into direct contact with you.

You look up and see Jungwon, a confused look on his face.

He sees the tears in your eyes and knows.

“Y/N…I-”

You put a hand up, telling him to stop.

Turning around, you begin walking away.

“Y/N, wait!”

His hand makes contact with your shoulder, but you shrug it off.

Making your way into the girls bathroom, somewhere he can’t follow you, you sit on the sink and let the tears flow, trying not to make any noise.

Jungwon stands outside the bathroom, trying to coax you to come out and talk to him.

Only when the bell rings do you hear footsteps leaving the area.

You freshen yourself up, splashing some cold water on your face before heading to class.

You spend the next few days completely avoiding Jungwon who is still attempting to talk to you.

Why? You’re giving him what he wanted.

He even came to your house, asking to see you but you told your parents you didn’t want to see him, to their surprise.

They begged you to tell them what happened but you refused.

Despite everything, you don’t want Jungwon getting into trouble.

Jungwon feels like his world is crashing down.

He knows that what he said was true, he did feel suffocated by you, but he didn’t go about it the right way.

He only started feeling this way recently, wanting space from you for a while.

No, he doesn’t hate you, he just wanted to spend some time apart.

Now he feels terrible for what he’s done.

He didn’t miss the side eye your parents gave him, wanting to know why their daughter refused to see him. He wanted to confess, tell the truth but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

As he lays in bed after another unsuccessful day of trying to talk to you, he thinks about the past 18 years of his life.

You’ve always been there, by his side through everything.

And now, he’s possibly ruined everything.

Jungwon reevaluates everything.

Why did he say what he said?

Because he felt suffocated by your presence.

But why?

He’d never had a problem until recently.

As he scrolls through your instagram, he looks at your most recent post.

You’re beautiful, you always have been.

Even at a young age, Jungwon thought you were pretty.

You’ve grown into an amazing, beautiful young woman.

He feels an ache in his heart at the thought of losing you.

He thinks about you, about your smile, your laugh.

Without realizing, he’s begun to ache somewhere other than his heart.

Looking down, he groans.

Now he has to go take a cold shower.

The next morning, you make your way to school, headphones in not hearing the footsteps behind you.

Jungwon throws himself in front of you, grabbing your shoulders so you stop.

Looking up at him, you try not to lean into his touch that you’ve missed so much.

“What,” you say, giving him a cold stare.

“I realized why I said what I said. It’s because I’m so infatuated with you, that I thought pushing you away would push my feelings away. I love you and I’m sorry.”

You freeze up under Jungwon’s hold, processing his confession.

“What?”

“I. Love. You.”

You feel tears begin to cascade down your cheeks, yet this time they’re not sad tears.

“Jungwon, you idiot.”

“I know,” he pulls you into a hug.

Wrapping your arms around him, you squeeze him tightly.

He pulls away, cupping your face and kissing you gently.

You kiss back, sighing in content.

When you walk into school, hands intertwined, you feel revived.

sorry for not posting for so long, hehe

tagging @pshbites cause she wanted me to ☺️

[l0stglitch]

A night at the boardwalk

(Platonic Yandere lost boys x reader)

Notes- Sorry this took so long to write! This fic wasn’t supposed to be that dark but then idk I guess I kind of changed my mind towards the end.

Warnings- Neglectful parenting, (They’re all kind of assholes in this but at least Dwayne and Paul try to be nice)

You glared down at the sheet in front of you, hoping that the intensity of your gaze would somehow make it disappear altogether. Algebra had always been a weak spot for you, so being given a sheet full of equations to solve by your tutor had been a very unwelcome surprise.

It was hard to even read the numbers under the dim light of the cave, which only added to your growing frustration.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

Your head shot up at the sound of Paul’s voice. Judging by the way his words seemed to almost melt into each other, you came to the conclusion that your father was definitely not sober.

“Hey pa,” You replied as he sat down on the couch beside you.

The man threw his head back with a theatrical groan and rested his arms on the back of the couch.

His eyes remained shut for a moment, before opening and curiously glancing over at you.

“Whatcha got there babe?”

You shrugged, fiddling with the paper absentmindedly.

“School work.”

Paul snorted, “School work! You actually bother with that shit? Y/n you don’t even go to school.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment, “Well yeah. Lindsey set it for me- and besides the others would kill me if I didn’t do it.”

He frowned, “Is she setting you too much work? Cause you know we can find you someone else if-”

“No! No! I like her.” You cut in quickly. Lindsey wasn’t your first tutor. You’d had a few before, but they usually didn’t last long. Each one mysteriously disappearing after a few months.

Since you weren’t enrolled in school, your fathers (well, David and Dwayne) had decided that it was important that you were still somewhat educated, and had taken the responsibility of finding tutors for you.

It was risky of course, having outsiders visit the cave to teach you, so it wasn’t surprising that your fathers were extremely careful about who they picked and what information they gave to them.

Lindsey was the best so far, but she had been teaching you for three months by now. You knew it was only a matter of time until they replaced her.

Paul took the work from you and squinted at it.

“You know how much math I do each day?”

You frowned, “Uh- do you even know how to do math?”

He scrunched the paper into a ball and threw it across the room.

“Nope! And I don’t need to- cause it’s all just dumb made up shit.”

He twisted onto his knees and grabbed you by your shoulders.

“Look babe, you should be enjoying life- not wasting it on algebra.”

You laughed dryly, “I would if David hadn’t grounded me.”

Paul sat back with a defeated look on his face, “Well shit. I forgot about that. Wait- what did you do again?”

“Fuck knows.”

He hummed and lit a spliff.

You debated asking for a smoke, but ultimately decided not to.

“Y’know… I think you’re right about me enjoying life.”

Paul quirked a brow, “Well duh. Im always right.”

“Yeah, so I was thinking maybe you could take me to the boardwalk.”

“Take you to the boardwalk…” He repeated under his breath.

“Yep. David said I can’t go alone, so as long as you’re with me..”

Your dad blinked at you, trying to make sense of what you were saying.

“So.. so.. you’re grounded- or are you not?”

You smiled innocently and shook your head. “Not grounded.”

“And you want me to take you to the boardwalk?”

“Yeah.”

Paul paused for a second, “Sure, that sounds fun.”

You grinned, delighted by how easy it was to get your way.

“Great! I’ll go grab a jacket.”

He nodded slowly, “Ok I’ll uh- I’m getting the keys then.”

You almost tripped in your haste to get to your room. You grabbed a worn leather jacket from your clothes rack before spinning around and running back to Paul.

Unsurprisingly, you got back before he had managed to find the keys to the bike.

“Pa, they’re in that drawer over there.” You said as you entered the main part of the cave, pointing over to a small, wooden chest of drawers.

He frowned, “Coulda sworn I just checked that one…” you heard him mumble to himself as he lumbered over to where you had directed him.

“Ha! You’re right babe- they were here this whole time. That’s weird.”

You smiled impatiently, “Can we go now?”

“You aren’t gonna put on your jacket?”

You glanced down at the leather tucked under your arm, realising you’d forgotten to put it on in your rush.

“Yes- fine! Can we please go now?”

Paul watched as you quickly shoved your arms into the sleeves with barely concealed frustration. Not that he particularly noticed in his impaired state.

“Cmon then.”

He stood up and held out a hand. Usually you would’ve refused, claiming to be too old for that, but you knew better than to test your limits right now. As long as you got out the cave, that was all that mattered.

Paul spoke to you the whole ride. Or at least, you think he did- it was difficult to hear over the rushing wind and snarling engine.

When you eventually reached the boardwalk, it only took around 5 minutes for your father to get distracted.

You noticed them before he did. A rowdy mix of surf nazis and punks, many of them seeming to recognise Paul. They called him over, flashing their alcohol and weed enticingly at him.

He looked at you, torn between his responsibilities as a father and the desire to do whatever the fuck he wanted.

“You stay here, ok? I’ll be five minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

You nodded obediently, “Don’t worry Pa, you can trust me.”

He ruffled your hair, “I know.”

You stood there for a moment, watching as he eagerly greeted the group. It saddened you slightly, seeing how he’d rather spend the night with them instead of you, but at least it gave you the opportunity to see your friends.

Once you were sure he wasn’t coming back, you began making your way through the busy crowds. The smell of food stalls, and the sound of people chattering excitedly- you loved it. You loved the boardwalk with your whole heart.

“Y/n! Is that you?”

You turned at the sound of your best friend’s voice. She was hanging out with a group of kids you’d never seen before, a surprised look on her face.

You hurried over, greeting her with a hug.

“I’ve missed you Beth,” you said as you pulled out of the embrace. Your friend smiled and gave your hand a warm squeeze.

“Me too- I kinda thought you were grounded.”

“Yeah I was. I managed to convince Paul to take me out.”

Bethany frowned, “Is he the one who taught you to skateboard?”

You were touched by her effort to try and remember the things you had told her about your dads. “No that’s Dwayne. Paul’s the stoner.”

She nodded, “Ah ok, so that means we won’t have to worry about being caught?”

“Unless one of the others shows up we should be fine.”

“Great! Let’s go do something fun then.”

You frowned, glancing over at the other kids she was with, “You’re just gonna leave them?”

Bethany shrugged, “They’re just school friends. I’d rather hang out with you.”

You smiled, “If you’re sure. What kind of fun did you have in mind?”

She shot you a sly grin, “How about we get our ears pierced?”

“Again?”

“Yeah, we can get our seconds done!”

You hesitated, imagining David or Marko’s reaction to another set of piercings.

“Oh cmon, your dads are punks right? Surely they won’t be that pissed off.”

“Yeah but they’re also total hypocrites and control freaks.”

Bethany gave you a pleading look, and you finally gave in.

“Ok ok, let’s go do it.”

She squealed in excitement and grabbed your hand, “We’re gonna look so cool! Have you eaten yet? We can grab some hotdogs or something after!”

You laughed, “I’m starving! We’ve got like no food at home.”

Beth shot you a sympathetic look, “Aw you poor thing. They starvin you again?”

“Yeah but.. not purposely this time,” you shrugged, trying to downplay it.

“Ok, well we’ll get ya something to eat after.”

You nodded, “That’s the place, right?”

She glanced over to the tattoo parlour you were looking at, “Yeah that’s it. I know a guy whose brother works there.”

You hummed as you both reached the door, “Sometimes it feels like you know the whole of Santa Carla.”

Bethany laughed, “You would too if your dads let you go to school.”

You shrugged, “Maybe one day…”

Your conversation seemed to naturally die as you both walked inside.

The guy Bethany knew was nice enough- he gave you both a 50% discount and told you to come back again should you ever want anything else.

You thanked him and left once you were finished, eager to find something to eat.

“You want any mustard on that?”

You quickly shook your head, “Just ketchup’s fine.”

The guy in the van nodded, squirting red sauce onto your hotdog. He handed you the food in exchange for a couple dollars and you walked back over to Bethany.

“You sure you don’t want anything?”

The blonde girl shrugged, “Me and mum ate earlier.”

You nodded and took a large bite out of the hotdog.

Bethany watched you eat. The way you hungrily tore into your food saddened her- she knew you were being mistreated by your parents. She knew that sometimes you’d go days without food. You claimed it was accidental, and that they would never starve you as a form of punishment, but she wasn’t so sure.

“Y’know, you could always move in with us. My mum wouldn’t mind, and my dad… well he’s been gone for a while now. I doubt he’s gonna come back anytime soon.”

You swallowed your food and shook your head, “Beth I couldn’t do that to you. If my dads found out-”

You stopped yourself before you could say it. If your dads found out that you had moved in with your best friend, then she was as good as dead.

You’d seen what they were capable of. Only once, but that was enough to change the way you saw them. They were predators. They fed off people. People like Bethany. People like you.

“I know I just- I just worry about you.”

You smiled, “You shouldn’t, you got your own shit to deal with.”

She laughed humourlessly, “You mean my dad? He’s long gone, Y/n. I don’t need to worry about him anymore.”

You were about to reply, when a familiar voice suddenly caught your attention.

“Two hours Paul! Two fucking hours and you somehow managed to lose her.”

You stopped in your tracks and grabbed Bethany’s hand. She shot you a questioning look, but you offered no explanation.

“Dude I swear I was only gone for like five minutes! I thought I could trust her.”

“She’s thirteen! In what world is a thirteen year old trustworthy?”

Bethany suddenly seemed to catch on. “Shit! Are those your dads?”

You nodded frantically, “Yeah! They uh- they definitely know I’m here so you gotta get outta here now before they see you.”

“You gonna be ok?”

“I’ll be fine- just go ok?”

Your friend reluctantly turned around, sending you a quick goodbye before disappearing into a crowd.

A moment later, David rounded the corner, followed by Dwayne, Paul and Marko.

“Where the fuck have you been?” David demanded, his icy blue eyes staring threateningly at you.

“I was hungry.” You said, meekly holding up the ketchup stained napkin.

Dwayne took a step closer, eyes full of worry, “Paul forgot to feed you?”

You narrowed your eyes, “I can feed myself- there just wasn’t any food.”

David scoffed, “So you snuck out cause you were hungry?”

You frowned, “I didn’t sneak out- Paul took me!”

“Hey! Don’t blame this on Paul. He brought you here as a kind gesture and you fucking ran off!” Marko interjected.

“He went off to get high! How is that my fault?” You could hear how your voice was getting whinier the more you spoke, desperate and full of frustration.

Paul opened his mouth to speak, but David cut him off. “Enough of this. It’s time to go home.”

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from arguing with him, knowing it would only make the situation worse.

Dwayne took your hand and rubbed your knuckles placatingly. “Cmon babe let’s go.”

You nodded wordlessly, allowing him to lead you to where they had parked their bikes.

Dwayne mounted the ride first, before helping you up onto the seat behind. You glanced over and accidentally locked eyes with Paul. He looked slightly apologetic, although it was hard to tell through the darkness.

“Alright let’s go!” David called over the grumble of the engines. You wrapped your arms tightly around Dwayne’s waist as his bike shot forward seconds later.

The cool night air stung your eyes, forcing you to shut them.

Smothered by the howling wind, you could hear laughter and cheering from your fathers. It almost felt like they were taunting you.

They were excited to get back to the cave. Excited to punish you. It made you sick.

Tag list- @bella-goths-wife @xjesterxjacksx @simplyreading96 @ursinaw @purple-lemon-8

(This technically isn’t a part 2 of the first fic because I wasn’t really sure what direction to take that one but I do have a few ideas for this so if anyone’s interested in a part 2 of this or just has any suggestions/requests my asks are open!)

[vivs-fics]

In The Woods Somewhere

Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings/ Tags: Swearing, smoking, smut to come

Lumberjack AU

Word Count: 8924

The flaming heat of the mid-summer afternoon sizzled down to tepid embers with the arrival of a pleasant sprinkling of rain. The light pitter-patter of rain on your windshield coupled with the slow, easy jazz that flowed out of the radio made for pleasant company on your drive out to the small shopping center in town. A cool wave of contentment washes over you, you relish it. Finally, you feel as though you’re in a place where the entire world doesn’t feel like it’s crumbling around you. Staring out onto the open road ahead of you, a faded white line divides the smooth tarmac surface. Evergreen trees stand proudly on either side of you, the heady scent of pine is thick in the air, amplified by the rain. A sad, sullen thought slinks through your mind.

Was there even a point to bearing witness to all these beautiful things if you had to see them alone?

Thoughts like these creep up on you sometimes. Getting out of a four-year relationship that had you twisted from the inside out will do that to a person. It took you well over a year to process. Countless hours of gentle parenting yourself and using every crappy, overly marketed self-help tool at your disposal to breathe, and mantra, and journal your way through everything. And it worked, partially at least.

Learning to live with yourself was a little harder than expected, but being out here helped. Perhaps it was because of the mountains. Weathered and different from how they once were- carved and indented by the hands of men… But still strong, still present. And maybe, you thought, you should extend the same grace to yourself. Acknowledge that things inside and around you have changed, but never underestimating the importance of the fact that you are still present. Present despite every setback, disappointment and broken heart- and that is no small feat.

You smile. Fuck yeah, emotional regulation. Just as a small blossom of hope sprouted in your chest, it was crushed by the heavy boot of your car engine sputtering, backfiring and then smoking profusely. No. Sweet, suffering Jesus, no. You were too far from the town to get a signal on your phone and were too unfamiliar with the surrounding area to know where the nearest tow company was. You supposed you could just walk to the grocery store you were heading to and ask someone there- but it was at least five miles and visibility was shit because of the rain.

You pull over and rest your head in your hands for a brief moment, recalling all the choices that led you here. You didn’t even have the luxury of blaming all of this on the impulsivity of a drunken night out, no. You sat, and thought, and researched about all of this. This came to you, bit by bit, with a clear mind. A rasp of wry laughter escapes your parted lips. At the angst of it all, the fucking absurdity.

“Alright.” You mutter to yourself, gathering quiet strength stored deep down and get out of the car. You pop the rain spattered hood of your car and assess the damage- the engine smokes, a great roaring heat hits you as soon as it’s given an escape from the confines of the car. “Shit.” Yeah, shit. You wouldn’t be able to fix this, not without some divine imparting of mechanical wisdom. You wait for a moment, collecting yourself.

Your silent prayer to the heavens is interrupted by the distant rumble of an engine. As the sound grows louder, you look up, hoping for a good Samaritan that could aid your current predicament. A red truck makes its way into your vision, an oasis in the desert of your despair. The pickup rolls to a stop, and your eyes move through the rain to see the figure stepping out.

He is a mountain of a man, broad-shouldered and rugged. The brown plaid of his shirt is muted by years of wear- muscles bulge under the fabric. His hair is a warm chestnut, framing his face perfectly. He’s a few feet away, eyeing you with a mix of curiosity and what you took to be mild annoyance- as if this situation was an inconvenience to him. The silence he shrouded himself in was almost tactile. It fills his immediate surroundings with an unspoken reserve that suggested a man chained in solitude. As he approaches, brows furrowed and lips set in a solid line, you notice the shining hazel of his eyes- they’re soft. Surrounded by harsh lines and weighed down by his sullen expression, but soft, nonetheless.

“You alright?” The stranger enquires, eyebrows raising a hair in concern. He looks behind you, almost through you, and lays his sights on the wispy, darkened smoke rising from your engine.

“Yeah- I mean… No. Not really. Stupid fucking car just gave out on me.” You sigh out, exasperated.

He grunts and steps closer. “Want me to take a look?”

A smile graces your features at his offer, “Please. Yeah, go ahead. You know a lot about cars?” You sidestep the vehicle to give him access to your disaster of an engine.

“Some.” He responds, eyes downcast.

He surveys the scene with an air of practiced detachment, “Yeah. It’s fucked. I can tow it into town, if you want.” he offers, his tone carrying a hint of reluctance.

You manage a wry smile, relief flooding you. “That’d be great. Thanks. I couldn’t get a signal out here either so, uh, you’re kind of saving my ass.”

“I’m Logan.” he states plainly, not bothering to shake your hand. He keeps himself away, not allowing the hands that caused so much hurt and pain to taint you with their touch. An invisible border closes him off from you- maybe from everyone, you theorise. He closes the trunk with little regard and turns to you.

“Y/N, pleasure to meet you.” You wipe your clammy palms on your pants, unsure of what to do. His head bows only a little, only for a moment. If his presence wasn’t so encapsulating, you’re sure you would’ve missed it.

He works with an efficient precision, unhooking your car from its spot and securing it to his truck. The heavy clink of the tow hitch falling into place was oddly reassuring, a small promise of resolution to come.

Logan moves to the passenger side of his truck and opens the door for you, extending his arm as a gesture for you to get in. You do so wordlessly, a tight smile flung his way as a measure of gratitude.

As you climb into his truck, the faint scent of blended tobacco and leather wafts its way into your nose. It provides you with an odd sense of comfort. You take in the interior- the brown seats are worn, the dashboard cluttered with pinecones and other forest finds. Odd, you think, but refrain from asking about it. Instead, you ask the only thing you could think of- it comes out sputtered and unkempt, “So, uh, have you lived here long?”

“A while.” His eyes don’t leave the road, his knuckles tighten slightly around the dark expanse of the steering wheel.

Am I annoying him? You think to yourself, but quickly shut it down remembering how he offered to help you. Perhaps this is just his nature, it fits with the gruff woodsman aesthetic he’s wrapped himself in.

“You don’t talk much, do you, Logan?” You peer over at him. Jesus fucking Christ this man is so beautiful. Maybe you’d be more annoyed by his shitty attitude if he wasn’t so goddamn pretty.

“Not if I can help it, angel.”

“Angel? Ah come on, Logan. Don’t tell me you’ve resorted to that because you’ve already forgotten my name.” You jest, a small ring of laughter coming from you.

There is the tiniest uptick of his lips, you note it. “Didn’t forget it.”

“So you say.” You smile at him once again, subconsciously willing him to look at you again. He does, but only for a moment. Just enough to indulge the butterflies inhabiting your belly. Logan drives with focus, intensity. You were sure he applied the same intent to everything else in his life.

The truck glides steadily along the winding road. The landscape remains breathtaking, even as you get closer to civilisation. The towering pines, strong and evergreen; the lake shimmering like a million sapphires, and the mountains looming majestically with peaks partially veiled by mist. You suck in a deep breath, letting the serenity of the outside make its way inside you. Logan is not blind to this; he checks on you periodically. It takes every fibre of his willpower to not look at you. He wants to drink you in, satiate himself on the divine radiance of your presence. So bright, so beautiful. He wouldn’t dare risk casting a shadow over that.

Your attempts to make conversation with the burly plaid-clad man feel like an exercise in persistence. “So… Is it a habit of yours come to the rescue of beautiful, stranded motorists?”

He lets out a non-committal grunt. You sigh, deflating into the seat slightly. He notes the pang he feels in his chest at disappointing you. He means to crush it under his heel, with the force and might of a tank, but he can’t seem to bring himself to. Logan shakes it off, reminding himself that he is, at his core, stone and adamantium, sharp edges and an impenetrable centre. The world breaks against him.  

He glances at you briefly before focusing on the road, stealing seconds of you for himself. Logan supposes he could indulge you, just this once. “Not always. Just when it’s hard to ignore.”

“I have been told I light up a room. Maybe that same mechanism made me look like the world’s prettiest, most devastated road flare.”

 Logan lets out a scoff, it’s half-hearted and something close to a show of amusement. The corners of his mouth ascend as he turns onto the road leading into town. You witness it, photograph it, and frame it in your mind.

The truck rumbles down the road as the mechanic shop comes into view. It was the kind of place you wouldn’t notice unless you sook it out. It is a dingy, slightly crooked building with a battered, sun-bleached sign that reads "Ricky’s Auto" just barely clinging on to the wall. A sad collection of vehicles lay scattered around the lot, most of them looking like they were long past saving.

You sigh deeply, eyeing your pathetic excuse of a car that’s still hitched to the back of Logan’s truck. This is not how I imagined my day going, you think to yourself. You had envisioned picking up some cherries from the greengrocer and making a pie, maybe getting some reading done with a hot cup of tea. But here you were, courtesy of Mr Sex on Legs, who so far had spoken about fifteen words to you.

As soon as Logan parks the car, he exits and moves around the vehicle in an imperceptibly swift motion and opens the door for you. You hop down from the slightly raised surface and give him an easy smile, coupled with a genuine, albeit slightly surprised, “Thank you.”  You doubt he hears you though, because he’s already moving to unhitch your car. And, by God, you try not to stare, but it seems like the world’s most impossible task. Seeing the way his muscles moved under the lines of his plaid shirt makes your mouth water. With the same quiet efficiency as before, he unlatches the tether between the two vehicles.

Before you think too much about how incredibly strong he looks, a man in oil-stained overalls emerges from the garage. He has a crescent moon hairline and thin, wire framed glasses. Splotches of grease stain his fingers as well as the cloth clasped in his left hand. “Logan m’boy!” he calls out, slapping his rag down on a pile of neatly stacked tyres. “Haven’t seen you ‘round here in a goddamn minute.” The grey-haired man stands a few feet away from us, a half-smoked cigarette dangles from his lips. His blue overalls are stained from decades of oil changes and brake jobs. A canvas upon which he painted his years of experience.

“Been busy,” Logan mutters, his voice gruff as all hell, but you notice the faintest flicker of a smile tug at his lips.

The mechanic turns to you, putting his hands on his hips. “And who might you be, Miss?”  

“Oh- I’m Y/N. My car decided today would be a good day to give out on me and, um, Logan here so generously offered me a tow.” You flash him a half-smile.

“He did, eh?” Ricky peers over his glasses to assess Logan, standing with his arms folded over his chest. Logan furrows his brows, a silent conversation occurring between the two men. You shift on your feet awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

Ricky shrugs his shoulders and walks over to the car. The bespeckled man leans over, scratching his chin. “Alright Miss Y/N. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.” He pops the hood and squints, practiced eyes examining the situation. “Yeah, looks like the radiator’s shot. I can fix it, but it’ll take a day or two for parts.”

A day or two? Fuck me, you think to yourself. You make an attempt to shirk your disappointment, but it is as evident as the light of day upon your face. “Right. Okay. I suppose if that’s the only way…”

Before you could dwell on it, Logan speaks up. “Ricky’s the best. He’ll get it done, angel.” Your eyes meet momentarily, sincerity evident behind his hazel irises. “If you need a ride or anything… I can, uh… I’m around.” He curses himself out mentally. Now why the fuck would I say that? He thinks, clenching his fists slightly.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, the butterflies in your stomach flutter wildly. Considering how he behaved like simply towing your car into town was a chore, you hadn’t expected an offer like this. “Uh, yeah. That’s really sweet of you, Logan, but I wouldn’t want to put you out…” you fiddle with the rings on your fingers, hoping he sees through your feigned polite declination.

Ricky, however, wasn’t about to let this moment slide. He interjects, leaning against your car. “Don’t be silly, Miss. ‘Course he’ll take you.” An air of finality surrounds his words.

Logan shoots him a look, jaw clenching in the most delicious way. This, however, just causes an even wider grin to spread across Ricky’s wrinkled features. “Young miss, you were headin’ into town, weren’t you? Logan here would be more than delighted to take you ‘round and bring you home after.”

You glance over to Logan, eyes wide, curious, pleading. He nods his head, albeit begrudgingly. You let of a smooth sigh of relief, thank God. After giving Ricky your details, you exit the well-loved repair shop to see Logan with his hands shoved deep into his jean pockets.

“C’mon then angel.” He rumbles, tilting his head in the direction of his truck. He opens the door for you once again and waits until you’re strapped up before he shuts it.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound breaking the tension the tiniest bit. “So, I wanted to go to the grocery store to pick up some cherries. I was going to bake a pie tonight.”

He hums in response, eyes focused on the road. “You bake often?” It comes out gritted, restrained. Knuckles whiten around the worn steering wheel.

“When I can. I thought I’d bake as much as I could before the school year starts. I’m, uh- I’m starting work at Oak Haven High School in the fall.”

He nods slowly- soaking in the bright, melodious nature of your voice. He could listen to you talk about nothing forever, he thinks to himself. He wants to hear you laugh; he wants your smiles to come about because of him. He wants to hear you whimper under him while he- No. No. Can’t think about that, Logan scolds himself for allowing his mind to wander.

“You know I-” You pause for a moment, thinking about how to say this. He glances over as you stop speaking, brows raising a fraction of an inch, egging you on.

“Well… it’s just that you’ve been so kind to me, and I’d like to repay your favours.”

“Don’t need to, angel.”

“No, but I want to. I don’t know if you’re busy later but maybe you could come to mine for dinner? I was going to cook Chicken Adobo and uh, and the pie, obviously.” You smile, teeth flashing from under painted lips. And his heart catches in his chest. Every ounce of better judgement is silenced by the screaming of every cell in his body, telling him to say yes. It’s beyond desire, beyond want. It’s necessity. He must see you again.

“You don’t- no. That’s not necessary.”

“Aw c’mon, I can’t say the food will be anything to write home about, but I can promise some good company.” You bat your lashes at him and smile and for the first time in a long time, Logan feels weak.

“Alright.” He drawls out, the faintest whisper of a smile graces his face.

“Really?” You beam, all sunshine and warmth. It lights something up inside him, a fire he’s kept covered since he moved out here. He nods, loosening his grip on the steering wheel. It’s surprising to him, how easily he lost this battle of wills with you. And maybe, he thought, he should allow you to win again and again.

The drive into town is pleasant, less tense than before. You glance at Logan from the corner of your eye, mind reeling at the sight of the beautiful behemoth of a man to your right. He is clearly a man of few words, his stony exterior surely aids in his want for solitude. Every now and then, you’d catch him looking at you, infinitesimal moments that he took for himself. Neither of you comment on it.

“So… you and Ricky go way back?” you enquired finally, breaking the seemingly never-ending silence.

Logan shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his eyes trained on the road. As if he knew that if he allowed himself to look at you properly, he’d never be able to look away. “Knew him from town. He’s good people.”

You nod, eagerly awaiting more from him. When he doesn’t give you anything else, you decide to press a little. “He seemed to enjoy teasing you back there.”

Logan huffs, something resembling a laugh escaping his perfect lips. “Ricky’s a pain in the ass, but he means well.”

That, right there—that tiny hint of humour hidden under his stony exterior, it makes you smile. “Seems like everyone in this town’s got a lot of… uh… personality.”

He glances at you, his gaze lingering just a second longer than before. “Guess so.”

Subtle as it may have been, there’s something a touch different about the way he gazes upon you now. A hairline fracture appears in the brick-and-mortar walls that surround him, letting the slightest sliver of something out, something real and tactile and intoxicating.

Strolling into the little greengrocers, you glance down at the shopping list in your hand. The air in the small space is fresh, produce is lined up in neat piles sprawling across the aisles. Logan is pushing the cart with squared shoulders, he’s tense. He glances moves past the fresh vegetables receiving a light misting from the sprinklers above. His hazel eyes scan the surroundings, as if he’s waiting for something- or someone to pop up.

“Are you always this tense when you go shopping?” you ask, a vain attempt to lighten the mood, raising an eyebrow at him as you stop in front of the baking section.

Logan looks over at you, his expression hard, unreadable. “What do you mean?”

“You know, some people find this relaxing,” you said, grabbing a bag of sugar and tossing it into the cart. “But you look like you’re being hunted for sport.”

He snickers, shaking his head. “I just like getting in and out. Not a fan of lingering.”

“Not a fan of lingering,” you repeat with a smirk, eyeing him as you reach for a small bottle of almond extract. “I guess I shouldn’t ask for your opinion on pie spices, then? Too much lingering involved.”

He gives you a slight shrug, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “As long as it’s edible, I don’t have a strong opinion.”

“High praise, Logan,” you jest, rolling your eyes playfully. “I’ll be sure to aim for ‘edible’.”

Logan remains silent, giving you the sweet nothing you’d become slightly accustomed to. You could, however, see the tiniest bit of amusement flicker in his eyes. He isn’t exactly chatty, but there is something oddly comforting about his presence. He’s grounded, solid. Reminds you of the mountains- he smells like them, too. Fresh, earthy, safe.

As you reach the fruit aisle, you glance at the cherries, bright and shiny under the fluorescent lights. You grab a bag and hand it to him, watching as he weighs them in his large, calloused hands.

“Do you even like cherry pie?” you asked, sliding your hands into your back pockets as you lean against the cart.

He paused for a second, looking down at the cherries, then up at you. “Never had it.”

Your eyes widen in blatant disbelief, “You’ve never had cherry pie?”

Logan shakes his head, his expression still neutral, though you notice the faintest trace of amusement behind his eyes. “Nope.”

“Well, now I feel like I’m under immense pressure,” you said, mock serious. “I’m taking your cherry pie virginity, Logan. What if I mess it up?”

He raises an eyebrow, his voice teasing. “Didn’t you say somethin’ about aiming for edible?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Shut it.”

He shrugged again, his lips twitching into a near-smile. “Just holding you to your own standards, angel.”

“So, that’s how it’s going to be?” you shoot back, unable to keep the grin off your face. “Alright then, tough guy, let’s see if you can handle the next critical decision.” You gestured grandly to the dairy section. “Butter or margarine?”

Logan drinks you in, sizes you up, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly. “Butter. Always butter.”

You clap your hands together and sigh dreamily. “A man after my own heart.”

The gruff lumberjack feels his cheeks heating, he needs to look away from you- you’re too goddamn beautiful, even under the harsh fluorescent lights. He feels as if he’s going to combust, but he cannot bring himself to tear his gaze from you. So, he smiles. It’s bright and big and you catch a glimpse of his sharp canines.

The banter continues as you wander through the aisles, each small decision becoming a chance for you to tease him, and for Logan to surprise you with his dry, understated responses.

At one point, you reach for a carton of eggs, only for him to pluck it off the shelf before you can. “I’ve got it,” he said, placing it carefully in the cart.

You tilt your head, pretending to size him up. “You’re surprisingly helpful for someone who looks like they’d rather wrestle a bear than be in here.”

He lets out a low chuckle, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not that bad.”

You grin, leaning in a little. “Oh? You sure about that? Because the guy I met a few hours ago...” You raise your eyebrows and suck in a breath through your teeth.

Logan’s jaw clenches, there is no anger behind it though- more like he is deciding how much to give away. You decide to leave it alone, best not to press him, you thought as you see him shift, like he isn’t used to being called out.

“I guess you caught me on a rough morning,” he says finally, his voice quiet but sincere.

You soften at that, watching him for a second longer than you intended. There is something vulnerable in his honesty, and it throws you off guard. You want to watch him unravel next to you- you want to kiss the scars on his hands and shield him from the world.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you hum, your tone lighter again, “I, um, I didn’t mean to pry.”

Logan shook his head, dismissing it easily. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

You let the silence hang between you for a second before deciding to break it. “Well, in that case, I think you’ve earned the right to pick the ice cream.”

He glanced down at the freezer section in front of you, clearly aware of your attempt to steer things back to neutral territory. “Vanilla.”

You groaned, dramatically covering your face with your hand. “Vanilla? Really?”

Logan’ lips twitched again. “What’s wrong with vanilla?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head as if you were gravely disappointed, “It’s good. Classic.”

“You seem surprised.” He adds, eyebrows raised in faux surprise.

“Yeah,” you reply, a concealed smile on your face. “I had you pegged as… like a… mint chocolate chip man.”

He smirked—a full-on, unmistakable smirk. “Mint chocolate chip.” Logan swirls the words around in his mouth He kisses his teeth and shakes his head, playing disappointed. “That’s… certainly something, angel.”

You throw your hands up in defeat. “What do you mean? Mint chocolate chip is a perfectly respectable flavour to enjoy!” He grunts in response, picking up the vanilla ice cream and dropping it into the little trolley.

As you make your way to the checkout, you can’t help but sneak glances- actually, scratch that... You cannot help but full-on stare at him, eyes trained to his pretty face or his rippling muscles the entire time- shamelessly. There is just something about the way he carries himself—strong and steady, but there’s also faint whisps of humor peeking through his tough exterior. It made you feel like you’d been graced with a glimpse of the real Logan.

And maybe, no… Definitely. You definitely like what you see.

The drive back to your house is quiet, as you anticipated. Not an awkward silence- more like the kind that settles in when two people are comfortable. Logan’s prized red truck rumbles steadily along the road, the low hum of the engine filling the gaps in conversation. You stare out the window, watching the trees blur into a mix of greens and browns as the slightly parted clouds give way to balmy rays of mild, yellow sunlight.

“This is me,” you state, a pointed finger directing him toward a small, cozy house nestled between the trees. You could already see your porch light flickering on, casting a warm, yellow glow over the front steps. As Logan slows to a stop, the tires crunching on gravel, you feel a little flutter of nervousness again. I should’ve mowed the goddamn lawn, you chastise yourself internally.

Logan put the truck in park, glancing around as if taking mental inventory of the place. You observe his hazel eyes sweeping over the porch, the old oak rocking chair in the corner, the hanging ferns swaying slightly in the breeze. He doesn’t say much, but you can tell he is taking it all in- just like he’d taken in the details of you back in the store. Quiet, observant.

“You moved into Sixty-Seven?” he enquires, his voice low, almost like he was talking to himself.

You blink, looking at him as you fumbled for your seatbelt. “Yeah, it was- uh- I just fell in love with it, y’know? It’s got this bay window out front, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful the view would be from there when it snowed.”

Logan gives you a small nod, his hands still resting on the steering wheel, gaze lingering on your abode. His heart clenches in his chest- this, all of this and you- so beautiful, so perfect. His eyes catch the flicker of the porch light, and for a second, you wonder what he is thinking. Surely nothing about how goddamn unkempt your lawn looks. Surely.

“You live nearby, Logan?” you ask quickly, a flailing attempt to fill the quiet.

“Yeah. Not far from here.” His voice is gruff, but there was something almost... tentative about it. Like he hadn’t really expected to say that out loud. “Just, uh, down the street actually.”

You hum and give him a smile, looking out the window again. “So… I guess, uh, I should get going?”

Logans lips twitch slightly, though his eyes remain fixed on your house. “Guess so.” He almost seems lost in thought. You couldn’t possibly fathom that he was lost in a fantasy, so long passed that he never thought he could reach it again. He imagines love flowing out of your house, music playing softly in the living room. His mind wanders to you: you who should not have such an immense hold on him this soon; you with your dazzling smile and bright eyes, with that sweet fuckin’ ass and those perfect tits- Logan blinks and suddenly the domestic fantasy is dragged away from him. The prospect of warmth like that is stolen and an icy reality washes over him. The reality that he is alone- and perhaps it was best for everyone if it stayed that way.

For a moment, neither of you move. You feel the weight of the day settle between you, meeting one another, the shared shopping trip, the easy banter, the way he had quietly helped with everything without making a fuss. And now here you are, sitting in his truck, only a few feet from your front door, and it feels like you are still... suspended. Like neither of you quite want the moment to end.

You catch him glancing at you again—just a quick, fleeting look, but enough for you to notice. He has this way of looking at you like he isn’t sure what to do with you, as if you are simultaneously the most innocent and dangerous thing in the world.

“I, uh, appreciate the help today,” you say finally, your voice resounding melodically in the quiet cab of the truck. “And the ride. I really do. Thank you, Logan.”

His fingers flex on the steering wheel, his knuckles brushing against the worn leather. “Not a big deal,” he mutters, his hazel eyes finding yours before looking away again. He finds it hard to breathe, even with the windows of the car open. You shine and radiate and fill up the space with your insurmountable beauty. He doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to look away.

Isn’t a big deal? You smile to yourself. Perhaps this is just his way? Saying something isn’t a big deal when he’d gone out of his way to make sure it was sorted out. Like when he stayed with you at the mechanic, or when he let you tease him about lingering in the grocery store without getting defensive. Every little thing about today had shown you more of who he was beneath the gruff exterior. And you want more.

“Well, it is to me,” you said softly, your fingers brushing the door handle as you hesitated. “So… thanks.”

He nods, still not looking at you directly, but you can feel the weight of what isn’t being said between you. You weren’t sure if it was the quiet of the woods surrounding you, or the warmth that lingered from the setting sun, but something about the moment felt... heavier. Like it wasn’t just about the grocery run or the ride home.

He shakes his head, as if clearing his mind from the thoughts he is having about you and moves to open your door. His tan boots crunch heavily on the gravel. The cool afternoon air engulfs around you, a chill runs up your spine. You turn back to face Logan, who was still here, leaning against the side of his truck. He watches you in that way of his—silent, steady, almost unreadable.

“So, um… I’ll see you tonight around seven?” you query, a genuine lightness in your tone.

Logan nods slowly, his gaze shifting between you and the house, like he was still sizing up the situation. “Yeah. You sure you don’t need help takin’ all that inside?”

“I’m a big girl, Logan. I think I can manage carrying two shopping bags twenty feet into my kitchen.” You jest, but your hands feel clammy, and your belly constricts at the thought of him coming into your absolute mess of a house. It horrifies you, boxes sprawled across the floor, clothes haphazardly strewn on the backs of your chairs, dishes piled in the sink left with the promise of fixing it up after your ‘quick run into town.’ Not exactly the best circumstances for a… what even was this? A date? A thank you dinner? God knows.  

But before you could take another step, he calls out, his voice a little softer than before. “Angel. Thanks, uh, for the invite.”

You turn back to him, your heart doing cartwheels at the sound of that nickname in his mouth. You wanted to hear it over and over, every second of every day, sung out in pleasure and joy.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice softer than you intend. “Of course.”

He nods once, like that is all he needed to hear, before turning around and hopping into his car. As you watch him pull away, the truck’s rumbling engine cutting through the serenity of the street, you cannot shake the feeling that something is shifting. Inside you, perhaps inside him. It could be nothing. Or maybe it is everything.

~

You didn’t think that you’d live to see the apocalypse, yet here you were standing in what can only be described as a catastrophe-riddled kitchen. Bombs of flour litter your immediate vicinity. It’s on the counters, the floor, it even managed to get on the potted fern by the window it’s leaves dusted white like a winter’s morning. The air smells of sugar, sweet cherries and the buttery pie crust, which was about the only thing that was going well at this point.

Oh God. Why did I think this was a good idea?you think to yourself, contemplating why you didn’t just offer to invite him to dinner tomorrow.

Inviting Logan over for dinner seemed like such a simple, kind gesture at the time. A little thank you for all his help with the car, perhaps a little excuse to indulge in his presence once more. But now, standing in the middle of this culinary battlefield, your confidence is crumbling faster than the edges of your pie crust.

You flail around attempting to make your house seem presentable, shoving clothes into your laundry basket and wiping up the remnants of flour and sugar and pie crust that had somehow spawned all over your kitchen.

The clock on the wall ticks louder than usual, reminding you that time is running out. Fifteen minutes until he arrives. You glance at the mirror by the door and cringe slightly at the sight. Flour streaked your cheek, your hair is dishevelled, your teal apron is muddied from its time on the aforementioned culinary battlefield.

Your heart does a little flip, and you immediately scolded yourself for it. Why are you nervous? It’s just a friendly thank you dinner. A friendly thank-you dinner with a pretty, brooding, unimaginably sexy man. You suck in a few deep breaths before changing into something appropriate for dinner.

The setting of the table is interrupted by three sharp raps on your front door. You swing the door open, and there he is, standing on your porch in all his glory. His broad shoulders fill the doorway, a fresh red flannel shirt stretches taut across his defined chest, and his boots are coated in a fine layer of dust, a bottle of red wine is clasped in his right hand. For a moment, the world outside seems to fade into the background, and it was just the two of you, standing in this strange, unspoken space between strangers and something else… something more.

His hazel eyes meet yours, flicking quickly to the warmly lit living room behind you. You see a brief flash of ardour in his gaze before his face settles into its usual unreadable expression.

“Hey,” you sing out, a big smile gracing your features. You step aside and extend your arm in invitation. “Come on in.”

Logan nods and steps inside, moving slowly, as if he isn’t entirely sure if he belongs here. He glances around, taking in the varnished wooden floors, the cosy linen couches, the scent of sugar and cherry hanging in the air. His eyes settle on the antique record player in the corner of the living room, and for a second, you think you see his lips twitch, the ghost of a smile. It feels unfamiliar to him, but it was good, he thought. Something about this cosy space, with its cluttered charm and lingering warmth, made him feel less out of place than he expected.

He watches you move, your hands fidgeting as you finish setting the table. There was something... endearing about it, Logan thought. Something about the way you hold yourself that makes him feel warm inside. An almost indefinable quality that tells him that this is you, unabashed and unashamed of your nature. He yearns for that.

“Uh, I hope you’re hungry,” you said, your voice a shining as you gesture to the table. “I’ve got the chicken stewing, and the pie’s almost ready... sort of.”

Logan gives you a low grunt of approval, his eyes flicking to the pie cooling by the window. “Smells good,” he said, his voice rougher than usual, like he’s trying to find his footing in this strange, domestic moment.

You smile awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers. “It’s my first pie in, well, uh... years. Let’s just hope it tastes better than it looks.”

She’s nervous, Logan realizes, watching the way your delicate hands tremble slightly. He’s used to people being nervous around him, he’s an intimidating man, but most just avoid him altogether. But here you are, standing in front of him, your eyes bright with uncertainty, trying to make the best of this impromptu dinner.

He takes a seat at the small kitchen table, the polished chair creaking slightly under his weight. The space feels too small for him—too cozy, too... personal. But he notices the little things, the details that make it feel like a home: the way the warm porch light slants through the window, catching the edges of the remnants of flour on the counter, the faint hum of the adobo bubbling on the stove, the warmth that seemed to fill every corner of the room. It is a place he could never have imagined for himself, but in this moment, it feels like he’s supposed to be here.

You shuffle around the kitchen, stirring the stew, checking the pie. But you can feel his eyes on you- those sharp, quiet eyes that seem to view more than they let on. You weren’t sure if he’s judging your messy kitchen or just observing, but either way, the awareness of his gaze makes your heart race.

“So, do you cook often?” Logan enquires, breaking the silence, his voice low and steady.

You let out a breathy laugh, gesturing to the flour-covered counter. “I know it probably doesn’t look like it, but I promise I do.” You rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

He tilted his head slightly, a hint of playfulness flickering in his eyes. “No, it- uh- it smells good, angel. Want me to open the wine?”

You chuckle, nodding your head. “Yeah, let me- I’ll just get some glasses. Thank you for this, by the way. I thought I was supposed to be making it up to you for everything you did, and here you go adding to the list.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” Logan said, leaning back in the chair, arms crossed. He didn’t smile, but there was a softness in his tone that surprised you.

You dished out the stew, setting a bowl in front of him. Your fingers brushed his as you passed the bowl, and the warmth of his skin sent a tiny spark up your arm, more surprising than you wanted to admit. He retracts his hand, causing the stew to drip down from the side of the bowl, “Shit. Sorry.” He quickly grabs the cloth napkin that the cutlery was laid down upon and wipes up the stray droplets.

As you sit across from him, you try to relax, but every time you look up, there Logan is, sitting at your kitchen table like he belonged there, like this wasn’t the most surreal thing that had happened since you moved here. He eats in silence, his movements slow and deliberate, the way someone eats when they’ve learned to savour every bite. Why does he have to be so... solid? you wonder, watching him out of the corner of your eye. There is something grounding about him, something steady. Even though he barely said a word, his presence filled the room, making it feel smaller, warmer.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “what do you do when you’re not out chopping trees? Any hobbies besides... lumberjacking?”

Logan raises an eyebrow, his mouth morphing into some kind of reserved smirk. “I’m not that interesting.”

“Oh, come on,” you tease, leaning forward slightly. “There has to be something.”

He shrugs, honey eyes drifting to the window. “Just take care of the land. Fix things up. Keeps me busy. I’m up on Lot 48- it’s lakeside. I, uh, started redoing the house when I moved out here.”

You nod, picturing him out in the woods, working with his hands, surrounded by nothing but the sound of nature. It was such a different life from anything you knew, and you couldn’t help but wonder what had led him to choose that kind of isolation.

“Must get lonely,” you coo softly, not quite sure why the words slip out.

Logan’s jaw tightens slightly, his gaze still fixed on the window. “Sometimes. But it’s better that way.”

The silence that follows is heavier this time, charged with something unspoken. You want to ask more, to understand why he kept himself so closed off, but before you could say anything, Logan smiles at you. His eyes are soft, mellow pools of gold that you want to lose yourself in. The smile catches him by surprise, but he can’t help it- you’re so fucking gorgeous, and you put so much effort into this meal. Things of beauty, such as this, seem foreign to Logan.

The rest of the meal passes in quiet conversation, the tension from earlier slowly melting into something softer. You serve the cherry pie and wait in eager anticipation for his feedback. Logan takes his first bite, fork passing through his soft, pink lips. His eyes widen slightly, just enough for you to catch the flicker of approval. He lets out the most delicious low moan.

“This is so fucking good,” he said, his voice rough, sincere.

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the wine or the steaming hot cherry pie. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you’d done something right. Truly right. Completely right.

“Really?”

He lets out a muffled “Mhm.” Mouth still stuffed with vanilla ice cream and cherry pie. “I, uh… I don’t usually have a sweet tooth- but you’re- uh, this is incredible, angel.”

"That's mighty high praise, Logan. Would you go so far as to say it's edible?"

A laugh rings out from him, more joyful than a thousand church bells, sweeter than all the combs of honey the world has to offer. "Fuck yeah."

~

The scrape of chairs across the floor feels almost too loud, punctuating the end of dinner with a finality that leaves your heart beating just a touch faster. As you stack the plates and glance toward Logan, the room feels smaller somehow, heavy with the weight of something unsaid, something hanging in the air between the two of you. Nobody comments on it, neither of you have the courage to.

Logan so moves easily, like he’d done this a thousand times before, confident in every movement, every stride. Taking the plates from your hands without so much as a word, his fingers brush yours again, but he doesn’t flinch away from it this time. Even though it’s just for a second, it sends a spark of electricity up your arm—a reminder of the tension that has been simmering since he came into your house.

“I’ll take care of this,” he murmurs, already heading to the sink. His voice is low, gruff as always, but there’s something softer beneath it tonight. He rolls up his sleeves, exposing his forearms—strong, tanned, with just the right amount of scruff. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping. You can’t help but stare, and apparently, you aren’t as subtle about it as you think because he catches you looking and raises an eyebrow.

“You alright over there?” he asks, a teasing edge to his tone.

“Fine,” you say, too quickly, reaching for a towel. “Just... uh, trying to figure out how you’ve made washing dishes look like some kind of art form.”

“That all?” He chuckles, the low rumble of his voice makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Yeah, I just… I can’t remember the last time someone did the dishes for me.”

“Don’t be too impressed. I can clean up after myself.” He winks, leaning over the sink.

You dry the dishes after he rinses them, the comfortable silence between you filled only by the clinking of plates and the soft hum of the evening beyond the window. Every now and then, you catch him sneaking a glance your way, and each time, it makes your pulse quicken just a little. There’s something brewing here, something that neither of you seem ready to name just yet.

When the last dish is dried and put away, Logan leans back against the counter, rubbing the back of his neck—a gesture you weren’t sure you’d ever see, a sign of nervousness. “Mind if I step outside? Thought I’d smoke a cigar.”

You blink, not half surprised. The idea of him standing on the porch with a cigar seems... right. You nod, suddenly feeling like you need fresh air yourself. “Sure, uh, I’ll come with you.”

The evening air is cool, a light breeze carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. The sky is splattered with deep purples and oranges, with the final rays of sunlight slowly dipping behind the mountains, casting a beautiful golden glow over everything. The porch creaks slightly underfoot as you both step outside, the world around you settling into a soft hush.

Logan reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a thick Cuban cigar, lighting it with slow, practiced ease. The flare of the lighter illuminates his face for a brief moment, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw and the hazel of his eyes that caught the fading light just right. He takes a slow drag, the scent of tobacco mixing with the pine-scented air. You’re drunk on him. Gulping down every facet of the strong man available to you.

You lean against the railing, pretending to watch the sunset but feel the weight of his gaze on you, that unspoken tension still simmering. “Hey Logan?” you enquire, breaking the quiet, “what’s with all the pinecones on your dashboard?”

He lets out a low chuckle, glancing sideways at you, cigar puffing between his lips. “Noticed that, did you?”

“Hard not to,” you reply, teasing. “You’ve got a whole collection. I thought maybe you were some kind of weird tree fruit enthusiast.”

“Not quite,” he quips, tapping the ash from his cigar. “Those... well, they’re gifts.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Gifts?”

“Yeah.” He shifts slightly, looking a little embarrassed, which only made you more curious. “From my cat.”

Your eyes widen, a surprised laugh bubbling up before you can stop it. “Your cat brings you pinecones?”

He nods, taking another slow drag of his cigar. “She’s a stray I took in. Started bringin’ me little ‘presents’—pinecones, rocks, she found a… a, uh, whole stem of Harebells once. Couldn’t bring myself to throw them out, so... they ended up on the dash.”

“That’s... fucking adorable,” you said, biting back a grin. “You’re a big softie underneath everything, aren’t you, Logan?”

He gives you a half-smile, his hazel eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place. “Guess I’m a bit sentimental.”

You tilt your head, looking at him in a new light, a softer light. “Sentimental, huh? Never would’ve guessed that about you.”

He shrugs, blowing out another stream of smoke, his gaze flicking back toward the mountains. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, angel.”

The way he says your name—soft, low, with just a touch of something deeper—sends a shiver down your spine. You turned slightly, leaning against the railing, your arm brushing his as you did. “So dramatic, Logan. Maybe you should start filling in the gaps, then.”

Logan looks down at you, his eyes locking onto yours in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat. The air between you feels charged, the fading sunlight casting great, sweeping shadows across his face, making everything feel more intimate, more immediate. For a moment, you are sure he is going to say something—something important—but then he just smiles, that quiet, secretive smile that makes you wonder what exactly is going on inside his head.

“You really wanna know?”

You nod, biting your lip. “I do.”

For a moment, the world seems to narrow to just the two of you, the fading light, the soft breeze, and the shared space on that old porch. You don’t say anything else, and neither of you move away from the other. Instead, you simply stand there, side by side, feeling the tension thrum between you like something alive, waiting to be acknowledged.

And then, in a quiet voice that is almost drowned out by the sound of the crickets, Logan whispers, “I like this. Being here.” With you, he omits.

Your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat as you turn to look at him. He isn’t smiling, not exactly, but there is something softer in his expression, something that makes your chest feel too tight, your thoughts too scattered.

“I like it too.” you grin, not trusting yourself to say more.

He doesn’t reply, he just nods slightly, taking one last drag from his cigar before putting it out against the heel of his shoe, a practiced movement. And even though he doesn’t say anything else, the way he looks at you in that moment- his eyes dark and warm, his posture more relaxed than before but still stony- says everything you need to hear. And it scares him. It scares the fuck out of him. The whole reason he came out here was to get away from people- if no one knew him and no one wanted to know him, then there was absolutely no chance of people getting hurt because of him. But here you were, fresh faced and pure, weaseling your way into the stone walls he’d built up over so many years.

“I should, uh, I should get goin’, angel.” He sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets, closing the solid barrier between you and him.

“Oh,” The word comes out involuntarily, sadness lacing the singular syllable. “No, yeah. Of course. It’s getting late.”

He clears his throat, stepping down the stairs one by one, “Thank you, again, for dinner. It was really good. Don’t put yourself down so much.”

You chuckle, nodding at his praise. You let it drip down you and warm your entire body. It feels good. The moonlight casts a pale glow over him, illuminating his features and encasing him in an angelic glow. God, he’s so fucking beautiful. You don’t want him to go, you want him to stay and light a fire for the two of you, you want him to sit and talk more about his cat and his house and everything else he’d be willing to tell you.  

“I left my number on that notepad in your kitchen. Call me if you need somethin’ angel. I’m sure I’ll- uh- I’ll see you around.”

You wave him off as his headlights illuminate the road leading away from your house. As soon as he’s in the confines of his car, and far enough away for you not to hear- he lets out a long, “Fuck!” And another, and one more for good measure. He runs a hand through his hair, a maelstrom of emotions swirl through his chest. He shouldn’t feel this much for someone, not this soon, anyways. But it is the most intoxicating feeling in the world, being near you gives him a high people could only dream of; his head is a mess- his heart more so.

For now, Logan only knows two things for certain: that he absolutely should not see you again, and that he 100% would be seeing you again.  

Part 2 >>>

Hi hi! So this is part one to my Lumberjack!Logan series. It's going to be a bit of a slow burn, but please let me know what you think of the story so far!

xoxo, Viv

[agere-fics]

Pretty Kitty

pairing: cg!logan howlett x little!reader

word count: 683

content warnings: cursing, usage of "daddy" and "dada", mean guy judging both you and wolvie

summary: you paint logan's nails!

@sleepyboy-stuff you seemed interested in this so i tagged you!

♡

For years in the making, an after battle nap became routine. He couldn't just nap anywhere, though. It had to be on brown, leather couch in the x-mansion living space. The couch was old, worn, tattered, even blown up a few times. But damn if it didn't lead to the best sleep Logan's had in ages.

He wouldn't consider himself a light sleeper but something definitely triggered his consciousness. Shuffling, movement, soft mumbles. Someone was here.

He groaned and squinted his eyes open, tensing at the blurry figure next to him. He shifted away from it quickly. Who would even dare to- oh.

"Don't move, daddy, you'll mess up my artwork!" you whined.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Logan wasn't under attack. It was simply his sweet little bub kneeling beside the couch, holding his hand and painting red onto the nail of his pinky finger.

"Hey, bub." he muttered.

You turned to look at him with bright, sparkling eyes. You were so happy to see him. "Have a good nap, daddy?"

"You know it." he rumbled.

Your eyes shifted back to your task at hand. You brushed a bit more red onto his pinky finger, trying very hard not to get polish on his skin. Daddy wouldn't care but you knew you would care. It's got to be perfect for daddy!

"Whatcha doing?" he asked.

"Making daddy a pretty kitty." You picked up his limp hand and showed him your work so far. Logan didn't mind the nickname. He liked anything you gifted him.

However, he did quirk his brow at a certain implication. "Wait a minute, I thought you said I was already pretty?" A sliver of a smile poked through his serious facade. He can't actually be serious with you, you're way too cute for him to be all grumpy, wumpy. You've got him tied around your finger and he's a-okay with that.

"Wait but you are, daddy! You are! I'm just uhhhhh...." You looked around the room, aimlessly searching for an answer. "OH, I'm making you even prettier! The mostest prettier ever!"

The sliver of a smile turned into a full grin. He sat up and observed his now painted hand. "What colors did you use?" He wouldn't be your daddy if he didn't test your knowledge just a little bit.

"I used some red and pink and blue, oh and orange, and only a little yellow cause it's basically empty, see?" You turned the bottle upside down and shook it before tossing it to the side. "Do you like your nails, daddy?"

Logan lifted his hand, moving it this way and that. Up, down, left, right, sideways, up ways, down ways, more ways. You patiently waited for his approval with wide eyes. "Of course, I do, pumpkin. It's perfect."

You pulled him closer by his shirt, jutted your lip, lowered your brows, and squinted your eyes. With your other hand you pointed at him very sternly. It took everything in Logan to not coo at your cutely angry expression. Your face was scrunched, just like your daddy does sometimes. "Never take it off, daddy."

"Don't worry," he giggled. "I won't."

"What's happening here?" came a voice.

Mr. Butern... the professor of mutation genetics. When did he get here? "Turning into a pretty little princess, huh, Logan?" he scoffed and began to walk away.

Logan moved quickly and shoved the professor against the wall. His claws came out to play, pricking at the meanie's neck.

"Say another word and I will slice your fucking head off-"

"Daddy, that's a bad word!" you scolded.

Your daddy turned to face you. "Apologies, pumpkin." He turned back round. "Now, you tell my little one how good of a job they did."

The other guy stuttered, shaking so bad he must be a milkshake inside. "You d-did a good j-job."

Daddy dragged him to the tattered couch and shoved him down. "Sit your ass down."

Daddy's face immediately went from angry to mushy mush as he looked at you. "Bub, I think you should give him a makeover, too."

"Right on it, Dada!"

♡

[hannahluvsbillie]

was it ever casual?

part 1

✮ pairing : billie eilish x reader

✮ cw: nothing too heavy, angst (kind of)

ᡣ𐭩 a/n: sorry for the wait!! my tumblr hasn’t been letting me post anything! but we’re here now and that’s all that matters. thank you sm for all the love on part one, it means everything to hear you like my writing 🥺🥺

the rain pitter patters on the window of billie’s car, it was pitch black with the exception of a few small streetlights in the empty parking lot.

it was damn near silent in the car, only the sounds of soft music playing were heard.

at least it was, until you got a notification.

you pick up your phone from the console, seeing a text from some random person you gave your number to at a party last week because he wouldn’t stop bugging you.

“hey, wanna meet up soon? still in la for the week.”

the text read.

billie’s eyes glance over at your phone, out of your peripheral vision you see her brows furrow at the message.

your eyes dart to billie, and you immediately put your phone down. not wanting her to see the message.

this just makes her brows furrow further, and her face contort a little.

“who’s that?” she asks, her voice stern. the hand that was once on your thigh moves back to her own, silently telling you she’s suspicious.

“don’t worry about it.” you say, glancing over at her and putting your phone under your thigh. you didn’t intent to mock her statement from the last meet up you had, but it just came out.

these past few times you’ve hung out with her, you’ve been noticing the abundance of notifications she gets while you’re together. you try to comfort yourself by saying it’s just her friends, or her family blowing up her phone. but you know, you know it’s other girls.

“im worried about it, who else is talking to my girl?” she states, the smallest hint of playfulness in her voice.

“my girl.” the nickname always seemed to find its way into her words while she was with you, but the once meaningful nickname that used to give you butterflies has lost meaning. how many other girls does she call “my girl” ?

you look away, you find yourself feeling annoyed at her words. she does the same shit to you, so why should she be mad about it?

“it’s not like we’re dating.” you say, glancing over at her only to see her brows raised at your comment. you were never this feisty with her, what did she do?

she moves her head just enough to look into your eyes, her brows still raised in surprise. “yeah, we aren’t. but i wanna know if my girl’s talking to someone else.” she says coldly.

your brows raise, matching her expression. you shake your head in disbelief, how could she be so dismissive?

“billie, you do the same fucking thing.” you say, your voice seems to have lost that soft, sweet, gentle tone it regularly has when you speak to billie.

“that’s- that’s different ma.” she says, feeling like she’d just been called out on her bullshit.

you shake your head once again, your hands fiddle with themselves in your lap.

“how is that any different? they blow up your phone constantly and when i ask you about it you brush me off.” you say softly, turning your head to meet her gaze.

she rolls her eyes at your response, starting to get agitated with you.

“because you’re my girl y/n. no one else’s.” she says, her eyes shooting darts into yours.

that doesn’t sound very causal, but to hell with causal at this point.

“i wish i could say that about you billie.” you say, shooting her a glare.

“oh my god- baby. we’ve been through this a million times. they don’t mean anything to me.” she says, her voice starting to get more cold by the second. how could she just lie to you like that?

you turn to face her, you can’t hold back anymore.

“bullshit.” you say coldly, her eyebrows raise in response.

“if i meant anything to you i wouldn’t be sitting in your car at 1 in the morning- let alone letting you eat me out in your car, or only meeting with you in secluded places, or the fact you won’t text me back for a week. it’s like im only here when your bored.” you ramble, finally letting your feelings spill out. it felt nice to call her out, even though you knew she wouldn’t tell the truth.

“baby- y/n- you know damn well it’s not like that.” she says, looking at you with furrowed brows.

in all honesty, billie didn’t know you felt like that. so what she’d talk to other girls, you were still the one she saw the most.

“so what is it then?” you ask sharply, furrowing your brows at her. you had to swallow the lump that was forming in your throat.

she looks away, trying to think of a way to possibly answer that question.

“we’re just- a casual thing y/n, don’t act like it’s more then that because it’s not.” she says coldly, her response shooting daggers into your heart.

a moment of silence falls between billie and you, neither of you knew what to say, or what was the right thing to do.

but you knew one thing, you couldn’t keep doing this with her. if that’s how she really feels, then you two aren’t on the same page.

it’s not causal when you look at her like she hung the damn stars every time she speaks.

“just- take me home billie.” you say, looking into her eyes. you were so tired of begging for her to choose you. it’s all that you’ve done is beg for her attention this whole- situationship. or whatever the fuck you wanted to call it.

she scoffed in disbelief, shaking her head. her hand went down to the shift and put the car into drive.

“god damn it- fine.”

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Bad Day at Black Rock | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: panic attack/PTSD, recovering from a sexual assault (HEED THESE WARNINGS ESPECIALLY FOR THIS CHAPTER), canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 6673

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

“What?!” you exclaimed. “She’s a demon, and you didn’t gank her?!”

Sam had just finished telling you and Dean about this Ruby girl he’d met. 

“No, (Y/N), I mean, she seemed pretty helpful on the Seven Deadlies case.”

“Wait, she’s the blonde chick?!” you realized. “Why the fuck would a demon help me?”

“I don’t know,” Sam answered. “That’s what I’m trying to understand, too. And if she helped us then, I don’t see why I shouldn’t have at least listened to what she had to say.”

“Because ‘demon,’ that's why,” Dean snapped angrily. “I mean, the second you find out this Ruby chick is a demon, you go for the holy water! You don't chat!”

“No one was chatting, Dean,” Sam huffed.

“Oh yeah? Then why didn't you send her ass back to Hell?”

“Because she said she might be able to help us out!”

“With what, though, Sam,” you chimed in. “You’ve never said how she’s supposed to be able to help us. Or with what.”

“She told me she could help Dean,” Sam said quietly.

Dean seemed to not understand.

“With the crossroads deal, I’m assuming,” you told him.

Sam nodded.

The older brother looked at Sam incredulously. “What is wrong with you, huh? She's lying, you gotta know that, don't you? She knows what your weakness is; it's me.” Dean paused for a second. “What else did she say?”

Sam was quiet again.

You and Dean leaned in expectantly. “Dude?” the older brother questioned.

“Nothing. Nothing, Okay?!” Sam snapped. “Look, I'm not an idiot, guys. I'm not talking about trusting her, I'm talking about using her. I mean, we're at war, right? And we don't know jack about the enemy. We don't know where they are; we don't know what they're doing. I mean, hell, we don't know what they want. Now, this Ruby girl knows more than we will ever find out on our own. Now, yes, it's a risk, I know that, but we need to take it.”

“You're okay right, I mean you're feeling okay?” Dean asked.

Sam huffed. “Yes I'm fine. Why are you always asking me that?”

You looked between the two brothers when a phone began ringing. You checked your pockets; no buzzing. Sam and Dean’s phones weren’t ringing either. 

“Check the glove box, it's Dad's,” Dean suddenly realized.

“Dad’s?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, I keep it charged up in case any of his old contacts call.”

‘Smart boy,’ you thought.

Sam opened the glove box and found the ringing phone. “Hello? Yes... this is Edgar Casey… No! No, no, no, don't – don't call the police, I'll handle this myself. Thanks. You know, can you just uh, can you just lock it back up for me? Great. Uhm, I- I uh, I don't have my - my book in front of me—” Sam gestured to you for a pen, which you quickly handed to him— “do you- do you have the address so I can... Sure, okay. Go ahead. Right, thanks a lot.” He then hung up and turned to Dean. “Dad ever tell you he kept a container at a storage place?”

“What?” Dean asked.

“Outside of Buffalo?”

The older brother shook his head. “No way.”

“Yeah. And someone just broke into it.”

***

“No demons allowed,” Sam noted upon entering his father’s storage container. A large Devil’s Trap was etched into the ground, and two sets of bloody footprints traveled right through it. 

“Check this out,” Dean said, stooping to hold up a tripwire. It was attached to a shotgun hidden in a large animal skull. 

“Whoever broke in here got tagged,” Sam said.

“I got two sets of boot treads here,” you announced, “looks like it was a two-man job. And Buckshot Boy looks like he kept walking.” You nodded toward the bloody footprint trail leading into the container.

“So, what's the deal?” Sam wondered aloud. “Dad would do work here or something?”

“Living the high life, as usual,” Dean quipped.

The three of you crept around John’s storage locker, and the two brothers chatted about how much of a mystery their father still was to them. You took in the varying types of clutter. To your surprise, the room was filled with old memorabilia; photo albums, a graduation cap and gown you assumed was Sam’s, and a few boxes whose contents were written on the outside of them in a woman’s handwriting you assumed belonged to Mary. 

You smiled at a trophy on a shelf nearby. “Check it out,” you said, picking it up and dusting it off. “Sam Winchester, 1995,” you read aloud, “Soccer Division Championship.”

Sam grinned and came over to you. “No way! I can't believe he kept this.”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled lopsidedly, “it was probably about the closest you ever came to being a boy.” He wandered over to another table with a shotgun laid on it. “Oh, wow! It's my first sawed-off. I made it myself. Sixth grade.” The older brother laughed and pumped the dusty shotgun.

“You made that?” you questioned.

“Not bad, eh?” he grinned excitedly.

“No, not at all,” you giggled. “Damn, dude.” You took the gun from him and inspected it, impressed with Dean’s craftsmanship. He smiled proudly at you.

“Guys, over here,” Sam said. You followed his voice over to a door to a back room. The chain on the door had been cut, and you cautiously made your way inside.

You waved your flashlight around the room to find varying weapons and lockboxes that no doubt held nasty supernatural objects.

“Holy crap. Look at this,” Dean called, “he had land mines. Which they didn't take. Or the guns. I guess they knew what they were after, huh?”

You took in the lockboxes on the shelf on the far wall. “This is binding magic,” you pointed out. “Curse boxes.”

“Curse boxes?” Dean questioned. “They're supposed to keep the evil mojo in, right? Kinda like the Pandora deal?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, they're built to contain the power of the cursed object.”

“Well, Dad's journal did mention a whole bunch of stuff, y'know? Dangerous hexed items, fetishes. He never did say where they ended up,” Dean added.

“Must be his sulfur-sludge dump,” you joked. You noticed a rectangular-shaped hole in the dust that had settled over the shelf. “Well, they found what they were looking for.”

“Great,” Sam groaned.

“Well, maybe they didn't open it,” Dean suggested optimistically. 

“Cute thought, but I’m sure they did,” you replied flippantly. You looked around the exterior of the storage unit for anything that could be of use to you; footprints, tire tracks, and… aha! A security camera.

“That’s helpful,” you noted, pointing up at it. 

The boys helped you fish the SD card out of the security camera, and you hooked it up to your computer. 

“There, license plate,” you noted. “And now…” you pulled up an alternate tab and copied the license plate number into it. Immediately, pages began scrolling of places the license plate had been seen at. Most recently, an apartment not too far from you. 

“Ta-da,” you announced childishly, and the brothers looked at you in shock.

“Jesus, (Y/N), how’d you get access to all this?” Sam asked.

“Oh, y’know,” you smirked, trailing off. 

Sam looked at you expectantly. 

“Same way any hackers do,” you shrugged. “Had this guy on the hook for a bit when I was, maybe, twenty. Found out he was an FBI agent in the cyber unit— not the brightest of the bunch— and I phished his computer. Of course, as soon as I did, the computer broke and shut down. Told him I was good with computers and could fix it for him, and then, I cut and run. Fixed the laptop up and had access to everything he had access to. Exported it to my laptop, ditched his somewhere in Arizona, and here we are.”

“That is…” Dean trailed off, “incredibly hot.”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile. 

“Get a room,” Sam mumbled, moving over to the Impala.

***

You and the Winchesters crept into the apartment belonging to the drivers of the stolen Connecticut vehicle, guns drawn. You could hear two men chattering about their poker game, and then you finally burst into the room on Dean’s nod.

“Freeze, freeze! Nobody move!” he commanded.

“He said don’t fucking move!” you ordered, pinning the bandaged, redheaded man to his seat with your gun.

“What is this?” the other man questioned.

“Stop!” Sam demanded. 

“Alright, give us the box. And please tell me that you didn't–”

Sam cut Dean off. “Oh, they did.”

“You opened it?!” Dean grunted. He shoved the dark-haired man against the wall.

“Are you guys cops?!” the man pinned wondered.

“What was in the box?” Dean questioned angrily.

You noticed a rabbit’s foot on the edge of the table. ‘Oh, fuck,’ you thought. 

“Oh, was that it, huh?” Dean laughed coldly. “It was, wasn't it? What is that thing?”

The man used Dean’s distraction to knock the gun out of his hand. When it fell to the floor, it fired, and you had to drop to the floor to avoid being hit in the face by the bullet.

The bullet ricocheted off the radiator and hit Sam’s gun, and he dropped it. The same bullet somehow ricocheted and hit a lamp, breaking it. You dove across the floor, trying to grab Sam’s gun, and the redheaded man pushed Sam down on top of you.

“The fuck, Sam?!”

“Sorry!”

You scrambled toward the redhead, and he backhanded you, somehow knocking you off balance and sending you to the floor. You normally wouldn’t have been so thrown off by such a simple move, but that rabbit’s foot was definitely working its magic. 

“Dean, I got it!” Sam announced. You turned around to see him holding the rabbit’s foot.

“Fuck, Sam, no!” you cried upon seeing him holding the cursed object.

The dark-haired man moved forward holding Dean’s favored gun and cocked it in his face. The man pulled the trigger in Sam’s face, but the gun jammed. 

‘Thank god.’

A quick scuffle ensued in which the two men opposing you had a bookshelf fall on them and a carpet got wrapped around their ankles and tripped them. Both men knocked themselves out, and Dean laughed triumphantly.

“That was a lucky break!”

“No, not lucky!” you shrieked. “Sam, that’s a rabbit’s foot!”

“Uh, yeah?” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Do you have any idea what you just did?” you panicked. 

“No, what are you—”

“I’m calling Bobby,” you said, storming out of the apartment and back to the Impala. 

“Whoa, whoa, why? I’m not seeing how this is a bad thing, (Y/N),” Dean countered, catching up to you. 

“Because that’s a rabbit’s foot, Dean! A cursed object! Its literal function is to bring bad luck,” you explained.

“How?” Sam asked. 

“Once you touch it, you’re marked. Luck’s gonna be on your side.”

“Better buy some lottery tickets then,” Dean chuckled excitedly.

You glared at him. “But if you lose it, you’re fucked. It’ll keep bringing you bad luck till it eventually kills you.”

“Well, I just won’t lose it, then,” Sam tried. 

“Everybody loses it, Sam! That’s the whole point!”

The two boys looked slightly shaken; Sam more so than Dean. Dean was laughing all the way to the bank on this one, and he dragged you and Sam to a gas station to get lottery scratch-off tickets. Then, he drove you to a restaurant chain location called Biggerson’s for some dinner. 

You sat on the phone with Bobby, the two of you angrily muttering about the insanity of the situation to each other.

“Gotta say, kid,” Bobby started, “was hoping the next time I heard from ya, it’d be on happier terms than this.”

“Trust me, me too,” you sighed. “Do you know of anything that can stop this?”

“I’ll dig around—”

Bobby’s voice in your ear was cut off by Dean triumphantly exclaiming, “twelve-hundred dollars! You just won twelve-hundred dollars!”

You grimaced and put the phone back to your ear.

“I’m guessing Sam’s luck’s still good,” Bobby drawled.

“For now, but I don’t know for how much longer.” You got out of the car, suddenly feeling suffocated in the Impala. You paced around, as did Sam, and you watched as he walked over to something glistening under a newspaper on the ground. 

“I’ll figure somethin’ out. Lemme look through my library and make some calls,” Bobby said. “Call me if anything else goes to shit.”

You laughed, and Sam stood up holding a golden watch. He turned to Dean who stood next to you and mouthed something like, “Awesome,” to his brother.

“Will do,” you told the older man on the phone. “Hurry, Bobby.” You hung up as Dean calculated the winnings from the scratch-off tickets he made Sam fill out.

“Oh, man!” Dean grinned. “We’re up fifteen grand!”

You and Sam half-smiled, both feeling unsettled still.

Dean continued to laugh as he walked into the restaurant with you hot on his heels. 

“In case you forgot, Dean, we’re still technically fugitives,” you hissed. “If Sam’s luck goes to hell, we could be royally fucked.”

“Don't worry,” Dean said easily. “Bobby 'll find a way to break it. Until then I say we hit Vegas, pull a little Rain Man. Sam can be Rain Man.”

“Look, we just lay low until Bobby calls back, okay?” Sam whispered. He turned to the man behind the host stand. “Hi, uh, table for three, please.”

The man’s face broke out into a grin, and he hollered, “Congratulations!” An alarm began to sound through the restaurant.

“It's exciting, I know,” Dean quipped.

“You are the one millionth guest of the Biggerson's Restaurant family!” the man announced. 

The staff surrounding you began singing and taking photographs while they shoved a giant check into your hands. Balloons fell from the ceiling, and you and Sam would’ve rathered been anywhere else. Dean was ecstatic, though, which you were happy to see. You’d suffer tremendous embarrassment fifty times over just to see him smile. That thought scared you a little bit; how you'd do anything for him. You had a tendency to be an extremist.

You were escorted to your table, and a gorgeous waitress in what was clearly a black bob wig approached your table. 

Her coy smile was alluring, but something about her wasn’t sitting right with you. Still, nothing seemed off through the rest of the meal. Sam clacked away on his laptop rattling off bits of lore he was reading on rabbit’s foot Hoodoo magic while you and Dean shared a bowl of ice cream. 

“I think from now on, we only go to places with Biggerson's,” Dean commented. 

The waitress came back over to your table with a pot of coffee and grinned at Sam. “Can I freshen you up?”

Sam nodded. “Thanks.”

The waitress poured, still smiling, and spilled some in her flirtatious stupor. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Let me mop up here. Sorry about that.” She hurriedly cleaned her mess and left the table, appearing to flirt with Sam over her shoulder even as she left.

“Dude. If you were ever gonna get lucky…” Dean trailed off.

Sam smirked. “Shut up.”

You smacked Dean’s shoulder. “I’m right here.”

Sam went to pick up his coffee, but he knocked the cup over and spilled it all over himself. Before you could process what was going on, he jumped out of his seat and into a waiter with a full tray. Things went flying through the air as Sam rushed profuse apologies. 

“Sam, check your pockets,” you said evenly. 

He did, and his hands came up empty.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean growled.

You and the brothers threw a wad of cash on the table and raced into the parking lot after the waitress. You noticed the black bob wig ditched on the ground a few feet from the door. “I knew it was a wig!”

“What?” Sam asked, turning around to you. He immediately tripped and fell flat on his face. 

“Wow! You suck!” Dean laughed, turning back to a groaning Sam.

“Ow,” the younger brother whined while you helped him up. His knees were bloody and raw through his ripped jeans.

“So what, now your luck turns bad?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah, Dean, I believe I’ve said that,” you remarked, and he glared at you. 

“Well, how bad does it get, genius?” 

“Really bad. C’mon,” you urged. 

“Where we goin’?” Sam asked.

“Back to the two jackwads that got us into this mess,” you said, hopping in the driver’s seat. 

“Whoa, who said you could drive?” Dean questioned.

“Me. Don’t be a child,” you said. 

***

You broke into the apartment once again to find the brunet man sadly downing a bottle of tequila. 

“Oh, man. What do you want?” the man asked.

“Heard about your friend. That's bad luck,” Dean tsked, referring to the death of the redheaded thief. 

“Piss off,” the man spat.

“We know someone hired you to steal the rabbit's foot. A woman,” Dean continued.

“Oh yeah? How do you know that?”

“Because she just stole it back from us.”

The man laughed. 

Sam stepped forward. “Listen man, this is seri—” and then he fell to the floor mid-sentence, pulling a CD player and a shelf down on top of him. 

You turned back to help the younger brother up. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, smiling awkwardly in thanks for your help. 

“I want you to tell us her name,” the older Winchester continued to the man. 

“Fuck you,” was the only response he got.

“It wasn't a freak accident that killed your partner,” you tried, coming out from behind the couch.

“What?”

“C’mon, don’t tell me you haven’t been thinkin’ it. I thought you’d be smarter than that,” you challenged. That seemed to get under the man’s skin, so you continued. “That series of unfortunate events that had to happen to kill your partner— like, had you not seen it with your own eyes, you wouldn’t have believed it— that was the rabbit’s foot. If you don’t help us stop this thing, those deaths are on you, my friend.”

The man in front of you looked worried. 

“And I gotta tell you, it doesn’t seem you’re cut out for the whole killin’ thing. You don’t wanna be a killer, do you?” you continued to press.

The man shook his head, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “No.”

***

You left the apartment repeating the woman’s last name over and over in your head. The man told you “Lugosi” was the only name he and his partner were given when they were hired. 

You took out your phone and called Bobby. 

“Hey, (Y/N), glad you called,” you heard the man say. 

“Hey, we got a situation here—”

“I found a heavyweight cleansing ritual that should do the trick,” Bobby continued. 

“That’s awesome, thank you, but uh…” you trailed off, trying to decide how to phrase your next words. You decided not to sugarcoat it in the end. “Sam lost the foot.”

“He what?!”

“I know, I know,” you sighed. You turned back around to see Sam and Dean trying to use a broken storm grate to get gum off the bottom of Sam’s shoe. You shook your head at their faces when they noticed you; seeming like two little kids caught with their hands in the candy bowl. You returned your focus to your phone call. “Listen, you know anybody by the name ‘Lugosi’? Maybe mid 20’s, super hot, my height—”

“Aw, crap. It’s probably Bela,” Bobby said. 

“ Bela Lugosi? That’s cute, but never heard of her,” you replied.

“Bela Talbot’s her real name,” the older man continued. “Crossed paths with her once or twice.”

“How the hell would she know John had the rabbit’s foot? She a hunter?” you questioned.

“Pretty fuckin’ far from a Hunter, but she knows her way around the territory. She's been out of the country,” Bobby explained. “Last I heard, she was in the Middle East someplace.”

“Well, she’s back!” you mock-cheered, exasperated.

“Which means seriously bad luck for you,” the older man added.

“Thanks for the encouragement,” you quipped.

“Well, kid, if it is Bela, at least I might know some folks who know where to find her,” he finished. 

“Thanks, Bobby. For everything.”

“Just… look out for those two idjits.” And with that, he hung up the phone.

You sighed and turned back around to see Dean reaching through the storm drain and Sam looking dejected. 

“What happened?” you asked.

“I lost my shoe,” the brunet replied sadly. 

Your eyebrows furrowed sympathetically, and Sam’s head hung low. Dean seemed annoyed and huffed, standing up from the floor. 

“C’mon,” the older brother asserted.

***

Bobby did actually have a pretty good lead on Bela; she apparently lived in Queens about two hours away. 

“So what are we doing here?” Sam questioned, referencing the motel you’d just gotten a room at. 

“You, my brother, are staying here 'cause I don't want your bad luck getting us killed,” Dean stated. “And (Y/N), you’re staying with him.”

“What?! Why?” you protested. 

“Because Sam actually listens to you when you tell him not to do something. And you’re way more responsible than me,” Dean shrugged simply.

“Fair point,” you sighed. “Knowing you, you’ll touch the stupid rabbit’s foot, though.”

“Pfft, c’mon, it’s me we’re talking about—”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” you dryly stated.

Dean glared at you playfully as he walked Sam into a motel room. You followed close behind and peeked out the door to make sure you weren’t followed. 

“What am I even supposed to do, Dean?” Sam whined.

“Nothing! Nothing. Come here. I don't want you doing anything. I want you to sit right here—” the older brother pulled a chair into the middle of the room— “and don't move, okay? Don't turn on the light, don't turn off the light. Don't even scratch your nose.” Dean turned to you. “If I’m not back by midnight, take off.”

“What, you gonna turn into a pumpkin or something?” you snickered.

“(Y/N), I’m serious.”

“Since when?”

“(Y/N)—”

“Okay, okay, fine, I heard you.”

Dean smirked down at you and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be back,” he said.

You watched him leave, a bit of your heart tugging at being anywhere without him. Your feelings for him were certainly growing stronger, and it frightened you how constantly you needed to be near him. 

You turned back to see Sam wrinkle his nose a few times before finally risking a scratch at it. 

“Hey! None of that,” you said. 

Sam’s sad eyes turned to yours. “This fuckin’ sucks, man,” he sighed.

“I know it does. Kinda the whole point of the rabbit’s foot curse,” you commented.

He ignored your smart remark.

“Found anything on how to break Dean’s deal?” you asked.

Sam shook his head. “No. Did find out something interesting, though.”

“What?’ you asked.

“All my mom’s old contacts? All her old friends, the nurse who delivered me— they’re all dead,” he explained.

“What?!” you shrieked. “And you didn’t think to mention this before now?!”

“Shh, keep your voice down,” Sam said. “Didn’t wanna say anything in front of Dean; he’d go berserk.”

“You know I have to tell him, right?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“No, no! Please don’t,” he begged. “Please. You know he’d flip. And, uh, probably more because of the way I got that information than the information itself.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Ruby told me.”

“Oh, god.” You rolled your eyes and dropped your head back. 

“C’mon, (Y/N), I mean, I called, and it all checks out. It’s got something to do with me and the demon; I know you recognize that pattern,” Sam tried.

“I do, but I don’t like being constantly stuck in the middle of you and Dean,” you said. “I’m supposed to be Switzerland, remember?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean Switzerland didn’t have information on the two sides, she just didn’t pick one,” he shrugged.

“Sam,” you warned, “You know how I feel about keeping things from Dean.”

“I know, I know, but you wouldn’t necessarily be keeping it from him, you’d be…” he trailed off, trying to think of a way to phrase his next words, “fulfilling a promise to me.”

“But I didn’t promise anything,” you argued.

“Please promise me you won’t tell Dean. Not till I’m ready,” Sam begged.

“Sam!”

“(Y/N/N), c’mon. Please, man. Please.”

You stared at Sam for a prolonged moment; you stared intensely and Sam looked up at you with puppy-dog eyes from his chair. You sighed and dropped your head forward. “Fine. But you are gonna promise me that you’ll tell Dean eventually. That’s my one condition.”

Sam nodded. “Deal.”

You shook your head and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Sam’s chair. “You Winchesters and your secrets.”

“Oh, like you don’t have any,” Sam deadpanned.

You looked up at the television and saw the reflection of your guard uniform and scratched-up face staring back at you. You took in a sharp breath and let it out slowly. “Touché.” You paused for a moment. “Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“What are you gonna do when—” you cut yourself off, tears beginning to well in your throat. You took a deep breath to push them down. “When Dean’s gone?” 

Sam shook his head. “(Y/N), no. He’s not gonna—”

“Sam,” you said. “We are trying everything we can. We’re two months into this thing and no closer to saving him than we were on day one. I stopped looking. Not ‘cause I don’t care anymore, but because I’m not gonna send you to Hell just so Dean can live. I mean, Bobby’s been lookin’, too! And he hasn’t found a damn thing. So I just think we have to be real with ourselves.”

Sam shook his head, tears in his eyes.

“I don’t wanna lose him,” you said, putting your hand on Sam’s knee to make him look at you and beginning to cry, too. “I don’t. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But… I’m scared, man. When I lost my family…” you closed your eyes at the memory of some of the awful things you’d done and would never forgive yourself for, “I don’t wanna do that again. And… And I just think that if we kept huntin’ together, we could keep tabs on each other. Make sure the other doesn’t go rogue, y’know?”

“I can’t believe you’re just gonna give up on him like that,” Sam spat, disappointed. 

“I’m not!” you argued. “But I’m not gonna help you kill yourself, dammit! Dean would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself!”

“Look, we’ve got ten months left. We’ll find something,” Sam continued. 

“I hope you’re right, man. I really do,” you said.  

Neither of you said anything for the next few hours.

During that time, you took out your journal and wrote. You didn’t usually keep journals when you were done with them as your duffel bag would be filled to the brim with them by now, but you were definitely going to keep this one; especially after Dean was gone. 

It was somewhat poetic that the first day you met the boys was the first time you’d written in this particular journal. Its pages were filled with your, at first, disdainful musings about the older Winchester brother and slowly but surely became your attempts at discerning your feelings for him.

You liked to buy quite thick and large journals to have enough room for your drawings and to be able to continue writing in them for months and occasionally years. This was the longest you’d been able to stretch one, though, and you were a little over three-fourths through writing in it. 

“I can’t help but wonder what comes next after all this,” you wrote, the pen gliding easily against the page in time with your racing thoughts. “I’ve always been awful about ‘futurecasting’ as Dad called it, but it’s even worse now. Every second I’m with Dean, I can’t help but think about how this is all gonna be over in less than a year. And it’s awful. I wanna be present with him. I just can’t. I don’t want there to be an end to us. I don’t even know if we are anything! He can’t even tell me he loves me.

“And I get it to some extent. ‘I love you’s are hard for him. Fine. I just wish he’d figure out some way to communicate with me that isn’t sex. I mean, the sex is great, but. I don’t know. And just after everything that happened, I’m not feeling great about having sex anyway. And I know it’s upsetting him, even if he won’t say anything; he’d never pressure me, and I know that. And I’m getting better about sex and related things. But it just sucks.

“And I don’t wanna bring any of this up with him and start fights because, as I’m painfully aware, that deadline is getting closer and closer every day. I just want him to be happy with me while he still can be.”

You dropped your pen when the air conditioning unit next to you began to smoke. 

“Oh come on, I- I didn't- I wasn't—” Sam whined.

“Just stay put,” you said. You jerked back in surprise when the unit suddenly caught fire. You grabbed the comforter from the bed next to you and began to put the fire out with it. Thankfully, the fire stopped. 

“I’m gonna see if I can get someone to fix that for us before your luck kills us both with carbon monoxide poisoning,” you said, starting toward the door. 

Suddenly, the door to the motel room burst open. However, it wasn’t Dean who opened it. It was two men. You drew your gun and cocked it, trained on the two men. “Get the fuck out,” you ordered. 

“I don’t think so,” said the older-looking man. He almost reminded you of Willem Dafoe, and you mentally pegged that as his name. The other man with a bizarre-looking mustache charged you, and you fired. Somehow, the bullet missed its target despite him being in such close range. 

“What the hell, Sam?!” you exclaimed. “Your luck’s rubbin’ off on me!”

“Sorry!” he winced.

The man charging you tried to restrain you in a headlock, but you kicked him squarely between the legs. You jutted your elbow back into his nose simultaneously, and the man dropped you. 

Unfortunately for you, though, Sam had been trying to help you by taking on Willem Dafoe. You turned around to see Sam unable to land a punch on the other man’s face. You tried to help him, but Sam ended up punching you across the face, and you were knocked out cold.

***

When you woke up, your arms were bound behind your back, and your legs were taped together as well. The men had laid you on your stomach, and you immediately began to struggle and panic, feeling your current position was too similar to the one you’d been in with the guard. 

“Dean! Help me!” you wailed without thinking. Your body was in autopilot as you struggled, and you couldn’t even focus on the men in the room. 

“Quit whinin’,” the man with the mustache told you. 

You could barely hear him over the roaring in your ears. “Dean!”

“I said shut up!” the man in front of you roared, slapping you across the face.

You couldn’t, though, continuing to flail like a fish out of water.

“Creedy,” the other man said, turning away from Sam and to his accomplice, “shut her up, please.”

“With pleasure.” The man took a rag out of his shirt and shoved it in your mouth, your muffled cries coming out around it. 

You vaguely heard Willem Dafoe beating the crap out of Sam while he talked about his mission from “god” to kill Sam. Then, the man drew his gun. His partner was unsettled, too, as you strained harder to get out of your binds. 

Suddenly, your saving grace appeared in the doorway. “Dean!” you cried through the gag in your mouth. 

Willem Dafoe turned around and aimed the gun point-blank at Sam’s forehead. 

“Nope. No destiny,” Dean said coolly referring to the man’s earlier comment about god and destiny leading them to Sam. “Just a rabbit's foot.”

“Put the gun down, son, or you're gonna be scraping brain off the wall,” the man replied, his tone ice cold.

Dean waved his Taurus around. “Oh, this thing?”

“Yeah, that thing,” look-alike-Dafoe responded. 

“Okay.” Dean put his gun down on the nightstand beside him, looking smug. “But you see, there's something about me that you don't know.” Dean smoothly picked up a pen off the nightstand beside the gun. 

“Yeah? What would that be?”

“It’s my lucky day,” Dean grinned. He tossed the pen toward Willem Dafoe, and it lodged in the barrel of the gun. ““Oh my God, did you see that shot?!” 

Forgetting all about your current situation, you started yelling through the gag, “You fucking touched it? You fucking idiot!” But all that came out was a muffled garbling of words. 

The man named Creedy lunged at Dean, but missed his punch completely. The man ended up running straight into the wall, and Dafoe was busying himself trying to dislodge the pen from the barrel of his gun. 

“I'm amazing,” Dean said smugly. He picked up the television remote and threw it hard at Dafoe. It hit the man square between the eyes, knocking him out cold. 

“I’m Batman,” you heard Dean suavely state, but you were too busy returning your focus to getting your binds undone. Now that the immediate danger was over, your body went back into panic mode. You yelped when you suddenly felt a hand on your back and fought even harder. 

“Hey, hey!” Dean coaxed. “It’s just me.” He saw you weren’t listening, and he immediately set to work cutting the duct tape binding your legs and wrists. Your hands shakily yanked out the rag in your mouth. Only then did you realize Dean was the one in front of you, and you leapt into his arms. 

He caught you easily, one hand around the underside of your back and the other around the topside your legs. You curled up into him and buried your face in his neck. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay,” Dean tried, but your shaking wouldn’t stop. You could feel your sobs slowly subside, but it took quite a while of Dean holding you for you to regain your composure. He pressed kisses into the side of your hair while he held you and tried to soothe you by telling you you were safe. 

You finally uncurled your legs from around Dean and let him put you down. 

Sam came up behind you to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You okay?” he asked. 

You nodded as you sniffled. 

“What happened?” Sam asked in that very unique-to-him soft voice. 

“I dunno,” you lied. 

Dean gave you a look that let you know he’d be asking more questions later. 

“C’mon, we gotta get the hell outta here,” you said, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You could feel the boys giving you questioning looks as you gathered up yours and the boys’ things and stalked out to the car. 

*** “Alright,” Sam began, sprinkling cayenne pepper into the embers of a small fire you and the Winchesters had started in the middle of a cemetery. “Bone ash, cayenne pepper, that should do it.”

“One second…” Dean said absentmindedly, scratching off the last of his lottery tickets. 

“Dean—” Sam complained. 

“Hey, back off, Jinx. I’m bringing home the bacon,” Dean quipped. He stashed the cards in his jacket that he’d slung over a gravestone. “Alright, say goodbye, wascally wabbit.” He dangled the rabbit’s foot over the top of the fire. 

“Hey!” you shouted, whipping out your gun at the sound of a twig cracking. You aimed it at the sound, and Bela emerged from the darkness with hers drawn as well. 

“I think you'll find that belongs to me,” she said firmly. “Or, you know, whatever. Put the foot down, honey.”

“Oh, hell no,” you said, cocking your gun. 

Bela cut her eyes at you, shooting Sam in the shoulder.

You exclaimed, “What the—!” and Dean cursed, “Son of a—” as Sam collapsed to the ground. 

“Back off, tiger,” Bela told you. “Back off! You make one more move, and I’ll pull the trigger. You’ve got the luck, Dean. You, I can’t hit. But your brother? Him, I can’t miss.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” the older brother roared. “You don't just go around shooting people like that!”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Relax. It's a shoulder hit; I can aim. Besides, who here hasn't shot a few people? Put the rabbit's foot on the ground now.”

“Alright!” Dean mollified. “Alright. Take it easy.” He moved to drop the rabbit’s foot, but instead, he threw it at Bela. “Think fast,” he smirked. 

Bela caught the foot and immediately realized what she’d done. “Damn!”

“Now, what do you say we destroy that ugly-ass piece of dead thing?” Dean smiled in satisfaction. 

Bela sighed, aggravated. She dropped her arm and uncocked her gun, but you kept yours aimed at her as she moved over to the fire. 

“Would you stop pointing that at me?” her smooth voice came without looking at you. 

“Sorry, love. Don’t trust you,” you smiled in fake-politeness. 

She rolled her eyes and moved back to the fire. She dropped the foot into the fire. “Thanks very much,” Bela continued. “I'm out one and a half million, and on the bad side of a very powerful, fairly psychotic buyer.” 

“Wow. I really don't feel bad about that. Sam?” Dean turned to his brother.

“Nope. Not even a little.”

Bela’s gaze hardened. “Hmm. Maybe next time, I'll hang you out to dry.” She turned around and moved toward the gravestone where Dean’s jacket laid. You knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Have a nice night, girls,” Bela smirked. 

You glared at her. “Uh, uh! Turn around!” you ordered. 

“What?” she sighed, clearly annoyed. 

“Gimme the tickets,” you commanded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. 

“Yeah, you do. You can’t con me, angel.”

She grumbled angrily but took the stolen tickets out of her pocket and threw them to the ground. 

“Thanks a million,” you called after her. 

“You’re fuckin’ awesome, woman,” Dean admired, you assumed in reference to the tickets you noticed Bela stole. He came over to you and kissed you boldly. You giggled against his lips, and he held your waist firmly. 

Sam cleared his throat. “Hey! Bleeding out, here!” 

You broke away from Dean. “Oh, sorry!” you grimaced, moving to head back to the Impala. “C’mon, I’ll get you patched up.”

When you ensured the rabbit’s foot was burnt to a crisp, you and the Winchesters moved to the car. 

“You good?” Dean asked his brother. 

“I’ll live,” he responded. 

“I guess we're back to normal now, huh? No good luck, no bad luck. And we're up forty-six thousand.” Dean threw his arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple, waving the tickets around in the air. 

“Maybe we should hit Vegas, see how good our luck still is,” you suggested, smiling lopsidedly. 

“I like the way you think,” Dean nodded. “Whaddaya say, Sammy?”

“I think you guys are gonna end up blowing all our money on slot machines,” the younger brother dryly commented. 

“Ye of little faith,” you said. “If not Vegas, we can at least get ourselves a nicer motel room. Maybe we can graduate to hotels!”

“Ooh, yeah. One of those hotels with a jacuzzi tub.”

“Hell yeah—”

“Guys,” Sam groaned. “Still bleeding out, here.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All (Alternate Ending - Character Death)

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce; hurt; angst; anger; rollercoaster of emotion; sadness; arguing; crying; mentions of therapy/counseling; kidnapping; violence; guns; injury; main character death

Please read Part 1 for my author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.

Had someone ask for a different alternate ending so here it is :)

*This picks up from part 13 in italics*

The moment the video stopped, you locked eyes with Simon. Your puffy eyes made him internally broken, but his facial expression hadn't changed, and you didn't know if he was upset that you had gotten revenge for cheating on you... or if it was something else. You wanted to say that it meant nothing. That you were drunk and fucking mad at him... but you couldn't say shit with the tape still over your mouth.

"I have to say, she sounds.. so damn good. Doesn't she?" Jax teased as he asked everyone in the room. Even with Andrei not responding, since he was the one who had his tongue on you, Jax smiled at Simon like he had won or something, "How does it feel?" He walked and stood behind Simon as he leaned down so his face was almost next to his, looking at you, "Tell her." He demanded.

Simon's eyes never strayed away from yours as you continued to cry. The look on his face hadn't really changed, but his eyes told you exactly how he felt. The regret that ran through his soul.... he wished he could been a better man; a better husband. You didn't deserve any of this.. yet you stayed. You had wanted to work on your marriage even after the ugly truth came out. It was his fault, and he would forever kill himself over it. He would be grateful if you ever forgave him, promising to give you the entire world and more after he so much tore yours apart by cheating.

"I love you," he lowly said, making you cry even more. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart... for everythin'."

"Satisfying, isn't it?.. Finally realizing your mistakes?"

Simon finally tore his eyes away from you and looked at Jax, "Let her go."

He paused, acting as if he was thinking about something, "I thought about it," he teased, "but see... I can't do that. She's knows far too much... much more than our girl Williams," he joked - a terrible one that made both you and Simon shoot him the deadliest glare.

He raised his gun up, pointing it at you, making your eyes widen.

"Let her go, Jax," Simon raised his voice, "This is between me and you."

"Oh, it's not just me," he chuckled, "But I guess it would be easier to take you out first." He moved his gun to point it at Simon's temple.

You yelled through the tape and thrashed around as you tried to get out of the restraints. Your skin was probably raw at how much you rubbed at the ropes. You wanted to beg him not to shoot your husband.. you even tried to. But it was pointless.

"Say goodbye to your wife... Lieutenant."

Time felt like it slowed down as you and Simon looked at each other. He looked angry and sad, but no doubt love. He loved you for everything you had given him, everything you had done for him. And if this was the last time he'd see you... then so be it. He was ready... and you didn't want that. You weren't ready to leave him; to say goodbye.

The wails that came from your muffled lips had you choking on the saliva that bubbled up in your throat. You wanted to vomit so bad.

"Close your eyes love," Simon told you. You didn't want to. God you didn't want to. But you couldn't stomach the thought of seeing him die right in front of you, so you shut your eyes tight and waited for the loud popping sound of Jax's gun to go off.

BANG!

The moment the loud pop echoed in the room, your eyes opened as you looked at the scene in front of you. And god, did you begin to wail as you saw your husband. He was slumped over in the chair. A bullet wound at his temple. Jax, who had taken a step toward you as he smiled, made you thrash in your restraints forcefully.

"When they find you... tell them Makarov said hello," he said as he snatched the tape off of your mouth. You couldn't help the loud cry that left your lips as you looked at him with pure hatred.

"Fuck you!!" you screamed, but it didn't even faze him.

He and the rest of the men walked out of the room, Andrei giving you a malicious wink before he shut the door. You couldn't help the loud cries that continued to come from your mouth as you sat there and looked at Simon.

He was dead.

God, you wanted to fucking die with him. The pain of knowing he was murdered all because of something that was bigger than this would haunt you forever.

20 minutes later, heavy footsteps rushed through the door, and you almost thought it was Jax and his men again until you realized that Price, Johnny, and Kyle had come in with their guns drawn.

But it was too late.

The moment they saw how distraught you were and looked at their comrade with his head hanging forward, they knew. The fucking knew that they were too late in rescuing both of you. Johnny kneeled down in front of Simon, putting his fore and middle finger against his neck to check for a pulse like he'd find one. "Fuck," he said as he looked up at the other two men.

Kyle rushed over to you and began to cut away at the ropes that tied you up, and the second you were free, you leaped out of the chair and ran to Simon, wrapping your arms around his neck as you cried. He was cold.. ice cold damn near, but you held onto him like he would somehow take a breath of air.

But you knew he wouldn't, yet you still continued until Price tried to pull you off of him.

"Y/n," he softly said.

"No!" you yelled, "He can't leave me! He can't- He's gotta come back. We have to work through this! Please John... please wake him up!"

Fuck.

His sad eyes eventually met yours as he frowned, "I'm so sorry."

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

Someone once told you in the past to read about the 5 Stages of Grief. You thought it was silly. What did you have to grieve about, when all you wanted was to be happy with your husband? You didn't think about that kind of stuff, especially when it came to him. But hell, did you wish you had picked up on a few things at least.

Denial.

Even with Simon being taken away when the police and corners arrived, you still couldn't believe he was gone. It was like you were waiting for him to come out of every corner to surprise you - like he did at the club. The first couple of days were the worst, as you would call his phone only to hear it ring on the nightstand next to you. The day of the funeral, you almost passed out twice from how everything hurt (physically and emotionally).

Anger.

The anger that flowed through your soul was more than knowing Simon cheated on you. It was more than knowing you cheated on him. You wanted to kill Jax. You wanted to make him pay for taking the love of your life. But you knew that was a crazy thought. It still didn't stop you from breaking things in your apartment - the glass of wine you were drinking out of, the vase on the side table. Days after the funeral, you quit your job because you couldn't stomach the thought of leaving your house because you were afraid and angry that Jax or Andrei would kidnap you again.

Bargaining.

You had no one to bargain with except whatever angels were up above to bring your husband back. And bargaining, you did. You begged and begged and begged like it would make a difference. You had even bargained for the universe to take you instead of Simon; to switch places with you.

Depression.

The worst phase you felt. You wanted to die. You thought about it so many times. It didn't make you feel better when you continued to go to counseling - for different reasons now. You just wanted to be with your husband again. The plaguing thoughts of taking a bunch of pills and never waking up crossed your mind so much during that phase.

Acceptance.

When things finally settled - and fuck did it take a while for that to happen - the only thing that had changed was knowing Simon wasn't going to come back by some miracle. Every other day (if not every day), Price, Johnny, or Kyle would come to check on you, along with Ava, who constantly brought dinner just to make sure you would eat.

It was heartbreaking. Simon was gone. It wasn't like you two had gone through the divorce, but he was gone from you forever.

But what hurt the most was the note you found in your husband's belongings when Johnny brought them from his office. Even he felt weird that they had cleaned out his space there, saying it wasn't right.

It was crushing to read it, and you cried in Johnny arms for a long time that he ended up putting you to bed and calling Ava to stay with you because he had to leave.

The note was written a few days before you were kidnapped. Simon once again apologized for everything that he did, the pain he caused you, and the deep love he expressed to you. He went into detail about his feelings and how he would die for you if it ever came to it.. Fuck it was like he had predicted his own death or something.

Why did life have to be so fucking cruel? Why were things the way they were? Just because you had accepted that he was gone didn't mean you were ever going to be over it. But you could only hope that somewhere up in the skies he was watching over you.

Not going to lie.. this was hard to write because I teared up proofreading this but let me know how you all like it!!

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