#California Car Seat Rules

[sunsetwestlgca]

Los Angeles Car Seat Rules and Regulations – Updated 2025

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[skzstannie]

"Did you know?"

SKZ-> ot8 x 9th member! reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort wc: ~4,500 cw: slight violence, swearing, reader has to go to the hospital

summary: some online rumors cause turmoil within the group, and it seems the members’ concerns were certainly not without reason

A/N: Here's another angsty 9th member fic for you guys, hope you enjoy! My requests are still open, so if you have any ideas, feel free to send them in!

Likes/reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Part 2 | Happy Scrolling! | Masterlist

Today was the first date of your North American tour, landing you guys in the beautiful city of Los Angeles, California. Your managers allowed you the morning to explore the city, given you had constant security. They made you specifically promise to abide by these rules, as you had a habit of sneaking off to see fans on your own. What can you say? Security could be annoying, and your fans were always the sweetest.

This little habit of yours not only made management anxious, but also your members. They knew you could be innocent and credulous when it came to other people, always wanting to believe there was good in everyone. While this may be true, people's best intentions sometimes went out the window when confronted with their favorite Kpop idols.

"Ok, first the art museum for Hyunjin, then Griffith Park, and then the nice breakfast cafe down the street from the venue. Anything else?" Chan reads off your planned itinerary, glancing upwards at you guys.

"Yea, I said I wanted to go to the Santa Monica Pier. They have the cutest attractions there," you say, repeating yourself for what felt like the hundredth time that day. You were the only one wanting to go, all the other members not wanting to risk getting sick on fair food and carnival rides before the concert.

"Yes, and I already acknowledged the fact that we will not be going there today. And we, includes you, meaning you will also not be sneaking off to go by yourself," Chan pointedly looks to you, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"What makes you think I'd ever do that?" you give him a cheeky smile, tilting your head ever so slightly.

"Don't look at me like that. You know exactly why I'd think that."

You drop your innocent act, giving him a bored look in return.

Chan gets notified that the vans have arrived, so you all pack up your things and head to the hotel elevator. The boys roughhouse in the hallway, Seungmin almost tackling Jeongin to the ground. This is quickly stopped by Minho, reminding them they can't get hurt before the concert tonight. They roll their eyes at him but oblige.

Leaving the hotel, you all jump in the cars, embarking on the short drive to the art museum. Your van consists of Seungmin and Felix sitting in the middle set of seats, while you're squished in the back between Chan and Minho. The air is weirdly tense and quiet, everyone seemingly too occupied with their phones. Besides Chan describing the itinerary this morning, everyone has been quiet all day.

You feel Chan's watchful gaze slide to your screen, and you pull away, leaning towards Minho. "Do you mind?" you sass.

"I do actually. What are you looking at on there, any cute boys?"

"Give me a break, we have a dating ban," you scoff, turning your phone back off and sliding it into your crossbody bag.

You continue to sit in silence until you arrive, not wanting to deal with Chan's wandering eyes on your Instagram feed.

Finally arriving at the art museum, everyone piles out of the vans. Fans line the sidewalk, and a grin spreads across your face. You step out of line quickly, wanting to go over to a particularly young fan. She looks around 8 or 9, and she has a poster of you in hand with a black Sharpie. What's the harm in giving this young girl a quick signature?

Within your first few steps, your arm is aggressively pulled backwards, and you stumble into Minho. He gives you a stern look, and you know, especially with this many people around, not to question him. You fall back in line, looking back to give the young girl a sympathetic smile as you're guided the rest of the way into the museum.

You guys walk through the entrance of the museum, officially out of sight from all the fans. Minho gives you another pointed look, finally releasing your arm from his grasp. "We told you, no funny business today. Tonight's important, and we need you in one piece for it."

Your eyes widen at his tone of voice, not appreciating the seriousness behind it. You know you tend to break some rules here and there, but it's always light-hearted. You'd never intentionally put yourself or anyone else in danger.

You guys explore the museum exhibits in peace, security doing an excellent job of keeping the fans outside. You, not having much of an interest in art, spend most of your time watching Hyunjin and the way he admires the artwork. He really is an artist at heart, and you love the way he can appreciate each individual piece.

While staring at Hyunjin, who's admiring an intensely beautiful painting of a riverbed with flowers, you suddenly feel eyes on you. You quickly spin around to be met with the stares of Felix, Jisung, and Jeongin. They quickly look away, busying themselves looking at the statues next to them.

You give them a squinted look, walking over to them. "What is wrong with you guys today? Why is everyone acting so funny?" you confront them, furrowing your brows.

Jisung stumbles over his words, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Felix jumps in, giving Jisung a strange look, "We were just talking about how beautiful you look today." He comes over to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side.

You don't stay there long, removing his arm from around you and walking away. "Weird," you mutter to yourself.

You guys finish up in the museum shortly after. Piling back into the cars, you're once again stuck between Minho and Chan. This time, however, Chan keeps constant conversation with you. He rambles on about the concert that night, what he had for dinner last night, practically anything to keep his mouth moving. While this is still strange behavior, you prefer this to radio silence.

Arriving at Griffith Park, you guys make your way up the hill terrain. All the guys want to take pictures, planning to post them to Instagram later that week. You think the perfect spot for pictures would be the Hollywood sign, so you start to make your way towards it.

You don't think to alert anyone, as it's within eyesight, and you prefer to take your own pictures, anyway. You came prepared, bringing your tripod in your backpack.

Before you make it very far, only walking about 25 feet away from the group, you hear your name being yelled. You turn back around, seeing an angry Minho storming towards you.

"What'd we say about going off on your own? Why are you being so difficult today?" he asks, his voice rising with every word he spits at you.

You don't know what's gotten everyone's panties in a bunch today, but you've just about had enough. The atmosphere has been tense all day, and you're officially sick of it.

"Why is everyone being so tense today? Gosh, I'm only going up to the sign!" You throw your arm behind, motioning to the spot only about 50 feet away from where you and Minho stand.

"No, you will not be going up there, especially not by yourself. Stay with the rest of the group and stop being stubborn!" Minho's overly-critical eyes stare you down. He steps toward you, grabbing you by the elbow for the second time that day.

You wretch yourself away from him. "I've had enough with being man-handled today. I'm done! I'm going to wait in the van. Have fun without me!" you yell at him, stalking off towards the parking lot.

You see everyone had stopped what they were doing upon hearing the loud yells, and they're all watching you as you hurriedly make your way back to the vans. Your face flushes, embarrassment taking over your features.

You pull on the door to the van, realizing it's locked. You stomp your foot and whip around, finding everyone still staring at you with varying expressions. "Someone please unlock this door before I have a mental breakdown," you beg, feeling the beginnings of an anxiety attack taking over your body.

The driver, just feet away sitting on a bench, searches for the keys in his jacket, finally unlocking the door for you. You climb in, slamming the door behind you.

You stumble over the front row of seats, laying down in the back away from the concerned gazes of your members and the rest of the staff. Your chest feels constricted, the air in your lungs feeling limited in supply. Tears stream down your face at the unwanted advances of an anxiety attack.

The fight with Minho paired with the building tension all day, along with the nerves for tonight's concert mixed into a deadly concoction in your brain, all too much for you to handle.

You're not left alone with your thoughts for long, the door to the van opening only minutes later. Hyunjin crawls in, shutting the door behind him.

"Hey, hey, shhh. It's ok, everything will be ok," he coos, rubbing your back. He's squeezed himself down in between the middle row of seats, his elbows resting on the armrests beside him.

"I'm sick of today," tears slide down you cheeks, your voice audibly shaking. "Everyone is being so distant and mean. What'd I do?"

"No honey, you didn't do anything. Everyone's just a little stressed for tonight. There's been some stuff circulating around online putting everyone on edge, but it'll all be fine," he reassures you, trying to roll you onto your other side so he can see your face. Your mind is too pre-occupied to register his words, letting them travel in one ear and out the other.

You allow him to turn you around, uncomfortably shifting in the small space. Your glossy eyes meet his, and he's quick to wrap you up into a tight hug, your own arms squished against his chest.

"Everyone's finishing up out there, then we're going to head to the venue a little earlier than planned. Does that sound ok?" he asks, affectionately running his fingers through your hair.

"Yea," you sniffle, pressing your face firmly into his shoulder. "I don't want to sit by Minho. Please don't make me," you cry harder at the thought.

"Alright, alright, shhh. You're only working yourself up more. You know we have to stay in our assigned vehicles, but I'm sure Seungmin and Felix will switch spots with him and Chan."

After a few more minutes of consoling from Hyunjin, everyone else has finished their photoshoots. Hyunjin leaves, but not before giving you another firm squeeze. Seungmin and Felix pile into the van first, both of them coming to sit beside you. You telepathically thank Hyunjin for asking them in passing.

Felix rests a comforting hand on your knee throughout the ride to the venue. Chan and Minho are silent, completely engrossed in their phones once again.

Once at the venue, you stay far from Minho, not wanting to deal with his negativity. You notice the security is amped up a bit compared to last tour, guards standing at every door leading to your dressing rooms. You figure it's because your band has gotten so much bigger, the Stay Family always growing exponentially.

In your dressing room, Felix occupies the chair by the mirror, your stylists brushing shades of brown and pink across his eyelids. Changbin stands nearby, the hair stylist just finishing up with a couple extra spurts of hairspray. You lay on the couch while you wait, playing Among Us with Jeongin and Hyunjin who reside in the other dressing room.

Changbin and Felix offered to go with you to your dressing room, and you gladly accepted their offer. You explained to them you didn't necessarily want to be alone; you just didn't want to be by Minho.

The stylists start to work on you once they're done with the boys. They finish your hair and makeup just in time for soundcheck, applying some last minute powder to your nose before sending you off to the stage.

Rehearsals go by smoothly. You and Minho are able to put your issues behind you for now. Your fans are so important to you, and the last thing you want to do is ruin their night because of some petty argument.

Management sends you off to the dressing rooms once again, satisfied with the quality of the soundcheck. You follow your members off stage before departing down a separate hallway in search of the bathroom.

You walk for another few seconds, taking a few random turns before your met with the door to the ladies' restroom. You do your business and take your time getting back to the dressing room as you guys don't go on for another hour. The venue your playing is beautiful, so you take a slight detour, admiring all the nice architecture.

You're startled from your peaceful thoughts once again by a furious Minho. "I cannot believe you'd go off on your own again. After all we've told you today, how could you possibly think that's ok?" he throws his hands up in disbelief, his tone snarky.

"I had to use the restroom! You guys have never had a problem with me walking around the venues by myself, why now? You have been up my ass all day. Leave me the hell alone for awhile." You push him out of the way, ramming his shoulder with your own in the tight hallway.

"Do you think this is fun for me, huh? Yelling at you all day long? Did you ever stop to think for one second that there may be something bigger going on here?" His voice sounds exhausted, leaving you slightly concerned because you still have hours of performing to do. However, your anger gets the best of you, and your concern gets pushed deep below the surface.

"Well, I'm sorry that I can't read your damn mind. If there's something bigger going on, then why hasn't anyone told me? I'm a big girl, not some toddler. I am a part of this group the same as everyone else, so why are things being kept from me?"

Minho starts to speak, but you immediately cut him off, not wanting to hear the lame excuses you're sure he's come up with. "You know what, I don't even wanna hear it. My mental health has went to shit today because of you, and if I wanna be able to perform in 30 minutes, I need to be away from you. We can talk about this later," you finish, rushing off to your dressing room, leaving Minho standing alone in the hallway.

Everyone seems to have deemed your dressing room the hangout spot until the concert officially begins, as all the other boys have gathered around, making themselves comfortable amongst the laid out furniture in the room.

You all make conversation, laughing at Changbin's cringey jokes; you're happy for the distraction, allowing your mind to wander from the fight you had with Minho.

10 minutes before you go on, management comes to fetch you to get ready, providing you all with in-ears and microphones.

Your pre-performance jitters have made themselves known, but you've been doing this long enough that you can turn that nervous energy into excitement.

5 minutes before you go on, you and the boys gather in a circle. Chan leads, knowing exactly how to get everyone hype before going on.

You're all standing now just outside of view from the fans on the side of the stage, waiting for your cue from management. Once they give it, you all make your way out onto the stage, relishing in the sounds of the screaming Stay that form the crowd.

All is going smoothly as you finish your center part during the bridge of Lalala, and you make your way to the side of the stage, waiting for the part in the song where you re-enter the choreo. With all your attenton focused on the performance, you fail to notice the commotion coming from the crowd just a few feet from you.

Your attention is pulled away from the performance when you're tackled from behind. You scream in agony and fear, having landed painfully on your wrist. If the snap you felt is anything to go by, it's definitely broken. However, this isn't your main concern at the moment. You open your eyes, and they’re immediately drawn to the shiny pocket knife the man has in his hand. He's quick to slash a small cut into your forearm before he is aggressively pushed off of you. Your attacker is taken down by security; they immediately throw a pair of handcuffs on him, taking him off stage.

The crowd has broke out into panicked cries, all of Stay wondering what happened and if you're ok.

Your members are quick to rush over to you, abandoning the remainder of the Lalala choreo. While it's felt like an eternity since you were tackled, it really only took security a few seconds to get the situation under control, and only a few more seconds for your members to surround you.

"What hurts?" Chan panics, crouching down beside you.

"My wrist," you sob, totally overwhelmed from all the commotion. The crowd is still roaring and your wrist throbbing like crazy. The cut on your arm is no comparison to the pain radiating from your wrist.

"Alright, let's move her off stage," a paramedic pushes through the barricade your members have formed around you and helps you stand to your feet. You quickly move off stage, wanting to get out of the crowd's view as soon as possible.

Once off to the side, one paramedic inspects your wrist, gently grasping your forearm to hold you steady, while another wraps the cut on your other arm.

"It definitely looks broken. We should get you to the hospital to get it X-rayed and possibly casted," he explains.

Minho steps up next to you, your earlier arguments swept from your mind. "I'll go with her. You guys finish up here. Probably should cut the setlist short anyway; we're already behind schedule."

You follow behind the paramedics, them leading you outside to the ambulance. Minho walks beside you, providing you familiarity in this uncomfortable situation.

The ride to the hospital is silent except for the beeping of the machines the paramedics have you connected to. Minho holds your unbroken hand the whole ride, your disagreements on the backburner for the moment.

The more time that passes, the sorer your body becomes. Your arms feel heavy, and your back feels like it was beaten with a hammer. You realize you've probably been in shock this whole time, and the attacker did more damage than you originally thought.

You finally find yourself in a hospital room, Minho pulling the chair up beside you.

"Well," the doctor says, pulling your X-ray up onto the screen, "This cut doesn't require stitches, just keep it bandaged and medicated. We'll give you a Tetanus shot for it, though, since it was done with a knife. As for your wrist, it's definitely broken. The good news, though, is that it doesn't look like it will require surgery. What color cast do you want?"

You're expression appears dazed to Minho and the doctor, your mind completely preoccupied. "Black," you mumble, just loud enough for him to hear you.

The doctor nods his head, disappearing from the room to retrieve the supplies to apply your cast and the shot.

You look to Minho, finally feeling like you have processed everything that's happened. "What the hell happened? How did that guy get past security, and with a knife especially?"

"Honestly, we're not sure. Management and security are reviewing the camera footage now. We were trying to be cautious; there was so much extra security tonight. It should've been impossible for anyone to get to you."

You process his words, a realization forming in your mind. "Did you guys know something about this beforehand?" Your eyebrows furrow. If they knew something, they for sure would have told you, too, right? "Is this what you were talking about in the hallway before the concert?"

"Y/N," he sighs, giving you a look full of remorse.

"No. I don't want any bullshit," you snap, "Did you or did you not know something was wrong before the concert? Is that why you have been giving me a hard time all day?" You start to put the puzzle pieces together, the day replaying in your head.

The overprotectiveness, the extra security, them not wanting you to go on your phone- they knew.

Minho looks to the ground, his shoulders slumping. "Look, we find out about some rumors going around online this morning, but-"

"Get out," you say, your voice tense.

His head snaps up, his remorseful eyes meeting your fiery ones. "What?"

"I said, Get. Out." Your unbroken hand aggressively points to the door.

"I'm not leaving you here alone. Let's just talk about this-"

"You had all day to talk to me about this, but now that I'm injured and traumatized you want to talk about it?" Your incredibly angry, and your words are filled with venom. "Get out, get out, get out!"

"Do you really think it's the best idea to be by yourself right now?" His eyes are filled with sorrow, his hands in dire need to reach out to you.

"If you don't leave right now, I will scream."

His watchful gaze rests on you for a couple seconds, before he finally gives in, rising to his feet. He walks toward the door. "We'll send a car to come get you when you're ready. There's security out here waiting, and your manager is out in the hall. I'll see you when you get back to the hotel."

He disappears out the door, once again leaving you alone with your thoughts. How dare they not tell you? There are threats going around online about you, and you're the last one they tell? In what world does that make any sense?

The doctor comes back in the room just a few minutes later. He's quick with putting your cast on, and he sends you on your way, requesting you stop by the front desk to sign a few documents before you go.

You follow him out the door, meeting up with your manager and security right outside the room.

After signing the paperwork, your manager leads you outside to the car that has been called for you.

Fans must've found out which hotel they took to you, and the outside of the hotel is flooded with Stay. Normally, you'd be ecstatic to see so many of them. However, you're exhausted and hurt, so you bring your hood over your head and stare at the ground, thankful for the security that surrounds you.

You climb in the back of the car, your manager following suit. "Why was I not informed about the threats online?" you question, your eyebrows furrowing in anger.

"The concert was going to go on no matter what, so we figured it'd be easier to get you out there if you didn't know about them."

Your jaw drops at her statement. "That is not fair, how can you just assume that? I had a right to know about this," you argue.

"This isn't really up for discussion. It's the way we chose to handle it, and that's that."

You're in disbelief at her careless attitude. "How did the guys find out about it then?"

"Nosy little shits," she laughs, but you're not sure how she's finding any humor in this situation. "They saw them online themselves. We practically had to threaten their contracts to get them not to tell you."

Your heart constricts at this new information. Emotions flood your system, and you're suddenly feeling incredibly guilty for your interaction with Minho in the hospital room. All the arguments between the two of you flood your mind, and remorse rushes your body.

They have just been trying to keep you safe all day. Trying to keep you off your phone, not letting you wander by yourself, the whispers behind your back. It all makes sense now. And you realize you've been a royal bitch all day to the wrong people.

You turn to look out the window for the remainder of the drive, knowing it's useless to argue with your manager. What she says goes. This doesn't mean you're not angry with her and the rest of management, though. This conversation needs to be had in a professional setting, not in the backseat of a car when you're by yourself.

Once you arrive at the hotel, your quick to jump out of the car, wanting to be away from your careless manager. However, you stand directly outside the door, patiently waiting for security to escort you to your room.

They walk you all the way up to your shared room with Seungmin, and you're not surprised to find all of them waiting for you when you open the door.

They're conversations halt, all eyes snapping to you. You walk in and set your bag down on the bed. Your eyes well up with tears for what feels like the hundredth time that day. "I'm so sorry," you cry, afraid to meet their concerned gazes. "Today has just been so overwhelming, and my manager sucks, and my back hurts, and I have been so rude to you guys all day-," your words are cut short by another sob wracking through your sore body. You sniffle some more, bringing your sleeve up to wipe at your face. "Min, I'm so sorry for kicking you out. I should've just listened to what you had to say. I'm such a horrible person."

All the guys are quick to stand, not wanting you to rile yourself up anymore. Hyunjin comes over to you first, gently guiding you to sit on the bed. Everyone else follows, all of you now gathered on the queen sized bed. "Listen," Minho starts, comforting you, "Absolutely none of this is your fault, you hear?" He pulls you down next to him, his arm coming up around your shoulders. "Today has been an awful day, and you don't need to work yourself up about how you treated us."

"Yea, but-"

"No buts, you need to rest. We are not mad at you."

"Not one bit. We love you so much, and we're so sorry you had to go through that. Are you ok? How's your wrist?" Chan asks from the edge of the bed, placing a comforting hand on your ankle.

"It hurts, but the doctor gave me some painkillers to take for the next few days. My cut didn't need stitches, but I have to keep it bandaged until it heals," you explain, your words coming out steadier than before.

Your cries eventually calm down, leaving you sniffling every now and again. Felix notices you've calmed down, and he nudges your leg, opening his arms for you. You crawl into them, relaxing into his calm and comforting embrace. The rest of them are quick to follow, creating one big group hug.

You know this situation is certainly not over. I'm sure you guys will press charges, and you'll probably have to release a statement of some kind. It seems that management and you guys have come to a silent agreement to deal with everything in the morning, and you couldn’t be more grateful for it.

~ ~ ~

Part 2

[jillsandwhichs]

Cross Country

Chapter 1 to Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel and you are on a road trip and you cannot stop teasing him whereas he can't get enough of it

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Dating

WC: 3.5k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Age gap (you're early 20s, he is mid 30s), Breast play, Blow job, Making out, Dirty talk, You ride him in his truck, Spanking & He cums on your tummy

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

The Arizona heat was more intense than back in Texas, you felt yourself panting like a dog. The AC was on blast in the truck too, so that helped. All around you was desert land, not much else. Cacti was populated all over, the occasional shrub would be caught rolling in the breeze. The ground was a beige color, but the road was pitch black, it may have been redone recently.

The air was also extremely dry, the humidity causing it. You were glad you packed as many drinks as you did considering you guy's haven't seen civilization in a bit, therefore no pit stops. You also packed a good load of food, knowing you and Joel get the munchies easily. He'll be driving and ask you to get him a granola bar or a beef stick, and somehow he manages to look good even whilst driving and eating.

You have your hand out of the passenger side window, allowing the cool wind to hit you with haste. Joel was driving at a fast speed, there was no point in following the speed limit, there's literally nobody else around. You swear you haven't seen a car in a good ten minutes or so. It was nice though. You enjoyed the peace of it being just you and Joel, all alone.

"Hey baby, could you pass me a water, please?" Joel said with his regular deep tone, his eyes on the road. "Yeah, sure." You grunted as you unbuckled yourself, turning around towards the backseats. There were two coolers rested on the car board floor, along with a box of food. You guy's packed quite a bit. "Flavored or no?" "Don't matter to me." Wasn't much an answer but you grabbed an unflavoured one, more refreshing.

Turning back around, you plopped in your seat and handed him the bottle. "There." "Thanks baby." Joel huffed out, one hand on the steering wheel as he twisted the cap off with his other.

The entire reason you two are on this road trip is to visit California. You constantly told Joel of your dream to visit there, and him being the man he is, he's making it happen. He's been there before, plenty of times, but never with someone else, so this was also sort of a new experience for him. It was just an extended date. And the reason he decided to drive was to also have you go through Arizona, two states in one. Plus, it's cheaper.

"Mmm, that feels great." You panted out, referring to the AC. Joel took a glance at you and snickered. "I'm sure it does darlin'." Mmm, how you loved when he called you that. His Southern accent was so sexy to you. The day you two met, you fawned over it. The way he says your name, your pet names and just things in general is so attractive. You aren't Southern, you only moved to Texas about two years ago, but out of all the men you've met there, none of them have the thick accent like Joel does.

Leaning your elbow on the window, you head rested in your hand. You just gazed at Joel. If it wasn't for the damned Southern accent, you doubt you'd be as crazy about him as you are currently. You also couldn't help but admire him. That scruffy face was to hard to not gaze at. The way he's fixated on the road ahead, his face resting evidently. His hand holding onto the wheel and how his veins were visible, that watch on his wrist adding to the effect.

You were often finding yourself gawking at him. You couldn't help yourself.

Joel had to double check what you were doing ; That was when he noticed you were eyeing him down. "What're you lookin' at?" Joel spoke in a low tone, taking quick glances at you while he drove. "Just admiring my man." You bit your lip, staying in the same position. "Is that right?" "Mhm." You nodded slightly, your eyes trailing down his sturdy body. Gosh, you could stare at him all day. "You're weird." "I know." You giggled in response.

The radio was playing still, the low sound of Hank Williams voice coming out of it. He was one of Joel's favorite singers, he'd often play his music. You memorized the words to a few songs even. Although, Joel was now too distracted by you to even listen to the song. You were a provoking woman. "You're making it hard to drive baby." "Oh am I? I'm sorry." You said in a jokingly condescending tone. Joel scoffed. "Keep actin' like that, see what happens babygirl." Joel stated sternly.

All the more reason to continue.

"Acting like what?" Pretending to be all clueless and innocent. "You ain't dumb." Joel chuckled, taking another swift gander at you. You snorted and sat up normally now. "Well my bad, I just love riling you up." "Clearly."

Looking out the dashboard window, there was nothingness ahead. You and Joel were in the middle of butt fuck no where and honestly, that was for the best. Joel tends to get a little angry when stuck in traffic.

"Can these God damned people hurry up?"

"Dear Lord above forgive me for the fact I wanna ram past all of these people."

"Damn traffic!"

Yeah, maybe enraged in the better term.

The aesthetic of Arizona reminded you of Texas but it wasn't as similar as you presumed. It was hotter, more dry and definitely less packed. Texas is constantly packed full of people, always lively, even through the night. Admittedly though, Arizona has much more prettier sights. The Grand Canyon is gorgeous and there isn't much tourist attractions like that in Texas. The only downside to the state is the heat and the amount of dry land.

It was later in the afternoon, the sun was on the horizon, most likely getting ready to set soon. Joel's GPS is tracking down a motel for the two of you to stay at, it'll be great to stretch your legs out. You also can't wait to sleep in a bed, the two of you have been driving for so long. You were grateful that Joel didn't ask you to drive at all, despite you offering. He just told you he could handle it.

"Mmm, can't wait to get out of this truck." "Tell me about it." Joel replied. "I need to stretch my legs." You whined out. "I'll stretch em out at the motel." "Joel!" You hit his arm, earning a laugh out of him. "What? You said you needed to, why not have me to help ya out?" You nuzzled your head in your arms, resting them on center console. Joel's hand went from the wheel and to your hair, stroking it gently. "Such a beautiful girl." He praised you.

"Mmm." You hummed out before you pulled away. You looked down at his jeans, specifically where his manhood was. You wanted them off of him.

As he continued to drive, you slid your hand onto his thigh. Joel glanced down with a breathless chuckle. "What're you doin' darlin'?" "Nothing..." You whispered, rubbing your hand up and down his upper inner thigh, your hand just barely missing his dick.

He breathed in sharply, his chest doing down slowly. He looked down at your hand, getting stiff once he took a glance at your face. "You're treading on mighty thin face baby." Joel groaned out, trying to maintain focus in his driving but with you teasing him, it became difficult. "And what If I want that ice to break?" You taunted him, still doing the same motions with your hand near his covered up cock.

"Fuck baby." Joel was completely hardened now. Just by your touch, your face, your voice - everything. Everything about you got him off. You were genuinely perfect to him. "Hmm?" You teased, now your entire hand was at his crotch, rubbing him through his pants. "This is on you." Joel grunted, he turned the blinker on and pulled over to the side of the road, the sun still awaiting it's set. You tittered breathlessly as you undid his leather belt.

It was a bitch to get off but you eventually got it off.

After you got the belt off, you tossed it in the back and diddled with the button of his jeans, popping it open and releasing his erect dick. Joel heaved when you did that, it felt so good. He was throbbing for you, just by you doing something so minor. He yearned for your touch. All he could think of was your wet mouth around his member, sucking him off. You always do so well whenever you do.

Wrapping your hands around him, you began to pump his cock briskly, but not to much. In your hand, you could feel him twitching, he needed that sweet, sweet release and that release can only be done by yours truly.

"Baby," Joel began, his breath heavy as your hand moved up and down on his dick. "I want you to suck it." "I know you do." You pulled away, beginning to tie your lengthy hair back into a ponytail, not wanting it to disrupt the sin you were about to commit on Joel. He jerked himself off as he watched you, even moving his free hand to fondle your tits through your shirt. "Can't wait to see that pretty little mouth of yours take me deep." He squeezed your breast, gaining a soft moan out of you.

Joel was definitely a boob's guy.

Once your hair was in a ponytail, you lifted up the center console so you wouldn't uncomfortable. You leaned over where the console once was, adjusting yourself to be comfortable. You were on your knees, but leaning forward on the seat, there was really no other way to do it in a truck. "Atta girl, c'mere." Joel mumbled, setting his hand on your back, his other resting on his side. You pulled yourself down to his dick, spitting on it and rubbing it all over with your hand, causing Joel to mutter to himself.

After spreading your saliva all over him, you began.

With each lick onto his tip, Joel murmured to himself.

"Fuck."

"That's my girl."

"Just like that darlin'."

Each sentence made you wanna keep going.

You took him deep, immediately. His entire cock was engulfed by your mouth now. The spit remaining in it was now coated all over his dick. "Jesus hun." Joel moaned as his tip hit the back of your throat. "Good Lord." He grumbled, his hand caressing your back gently as you blew him off. You bobbed your head up and down on him, each time his cock when deeper, you squeezed your eyes shut tighter.

His fingers trailed on your back, rubbing it with ease, making you feel good too. "You look so damn pretty like this." He groaned, his head pressed against the driver's seat. The sounds of you practically choking on him were lewd and erotic and clearly, Joel was getting a kick out of it. "Keep it up princess." Joel praised you. You had a thing for it. The way he'd commend you for pleasuring him brought you it as well.

Deep throating him, you swiped your tongue along it as you pulled yourself back up before ultimately pushing your head back down, repeating the movement a couple times. "Jesus Christ..." Joel's fingers gripped into the back of your shirt for support, his other hand digging into the fabricated seat of the truck. "I wanna cum in your mouth honey, don't stop." You didn't plan to. You suctioned his dick around your lips, continuing to suck him off with speed.

You felt as his hand slithered up from your back and up to your neck, the back of it. His thumb and index finger held onto it firmly, helping you bob your head. You slowed your movement down a bit, keeping it moderate, not wanting him to release his load in your mouth just yet. "Oh babygirl..." Joel panted, his grasp on your neck getting tighter, he wanted you to go faster. "Don't let up sweetheart." He went on, his fingertips twiddling near your hair.

Slurping was heard as you sucked him faster, your head practically moving at light speed. You wanted him inside of you terribly. Just the mere thought of it motivating you to make him finish faster. Joel wasn't the type of man to be one and done, the fucker could go for multiple rounds. Sometimes, it tires you out to the point where he's basically just fucking a limp version of you. But you don't mind, you like how rough he can get.

Joel's hand went to your head, now grasping onto your hair as he moved you himself. "I'm so close." You listened to what he said and now just took him all the way. You stuck your head all the way down, literally gagging on his cock. His hand kept you in place as he came. You felt the warm salty liquid trace down your throat, you swallowed it swiftly. "Atta girl." He ruffled your hair.

You pulled your head up with a gasp, looking at him as you wiped your mouth. His hand went to your cheek and rubbed it, giving you his soft, caring eyes. "You did so good sunshine." He squeezed your cheek slightly. Your eyes took a quick shot at his dick, seeing it was already hardening up again. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. The feeling has always been mutual.

"C'mere." Joel grunted, his hands going to your midriff and helping you onto his lap. Straddling him, you rested your petite hands on his brawn shoulders. He immediately began to kiss you, the warmth of his lips igniting a passionate fiery kiss between the two of you. The kiss was so desperate, as if you two have been craving each other - Which you have. Your hairs scrambled all over his face, neck and hair, touching and grabbing onto him all over. You were mad for this man.

"I want you, I wanna feel you." You whispered to him, your lips going along his jawline as you gave him soft, moan earning smooches. His jaw was sharp, perfect to kiss, your lips went all over it, and then to his neck. "You wanna feel me? I'll make you feel me deep inside darlin'." His words sent shivers done your spine. You wanted to have him buried deep in you ; It was more than a want though. "Fuck." You whimpered as your head was in the crook of his neck, kissing and suckling all over it, marking what's yours.

His hands went from your waist, squeezing it and rocking you on his lap to your ass where he'd give you brisk spanks, earning shrieks out of you.

You felt his length rock hard beneath you, pushing against your crotch through your shorts. "Get these off baby." He groaned, lifting you off of his lap so you could. Nodding, you quickly pulled your athletic shorts off, they were now in the way. You set them in the other seat, now just being in a shirt and panties. "Fuck, I need to feel you." Such a way with words.

Both of your hands went to the back of his head, pulling him into a kiss. Your guy's lips moved in sync, little whimpers emitting from the both of you periodically. You felt yourself moving on him, despite not having him inside you. The base of his cock was teasing your clit and slit through your already dampened panties. "I can feel how wet you are." Joel hummed, gazing down at the sight of her grinding her cunt on him.

Without a word, Joel's hand went to your panties, pulling them to the side. You gave you the look. You grabbed his member, the erectness helped you guide it to your tight hole. You felt his tip touch your clit, gliding against it, earning a light whimper out of you. "So fucking wet." Joel spoke, his accent thicker now. "Just for you." You kissed him again as you sat down on his cock, your breath halting when doing so. Joel's fingers dug into your thighs as you sunk down on him. "Dear fucking Lord." He grunted.

Sitting still, you didn't move a muscle, allowing yourself to adjust to him. "You alright?" "Yeah, it's just been a little bit." You muttered, your hands on the back of his neck. "Okay sweetheart, take your time." Joel kissed your cheek, his nose sliding against your cheek as he leaned up to kiss your ear lobe, his breath hot.

After a couple more moments, you started to grind yourself on him, feeling his stiff member shift against your inner walls. You could feel his tip deep inside of you but not as deep as it could be. "You're killin' me baby." Joel grumbled, one hand on your upper thigh and the other holding your heated cheek. Staring at him, your eyes filled with innocence, the way you looked at him was so gentle and loving.

"Oh baby, don't look at me like that." Joel moaned, his thumb caressing your face. You giggled, hiding your head in the crook of his neck. Joel groaned at the sudden gesture. "You're so pretty." His hands now moved to your ass again, gripping it as you rode him.

You were like a damn cowgirl on him.

A loud moan released out of you as his hand slapped your rear, doing it twice in a row. "C'mon baby, I know you can go faster." His voice was so deep, so appealing. Listening, you began to bounce on him with more speed, your wetness coating his dick. Each thrust was just one step closer to your finish line, you needed to keep going. You needed to cum, all over him. Cover his member in your fluids.

Squeeze him til he cums on you.

Joel held onto your ass as you switched between grinding and dancing on him, sometimes mixing them together, that was the real game changer. His hands pushed you on him, helping you move easier. "It feels so good." You whined out, pulling away from his neck, pressing your forehead against his for the final time. "Yeah it does." He mumbled, moving one hand onto your back, feeling it through your shirt.

Deep inside of your stomach, you could feel it. Not only good you feel his length practically in your tummy, you could also feel your climax rushing through you. At any given moment, you know you'll cum - Joel knows it too.

He now grips your waist, holding you in place as he begins to buck his manhood up into you, causing your breath to shutter once again. "Fuck sakes." You grunt, your eyes never leaving his as he fucked you, hard and lovingly. "Gonna make you cum darlin'." He chuckled. "Yeah..." You chortled whilst moaning, your moans sounded so feminine and woman like, usually you just pant or groan but he was making you feel all types of ways. Magical ways.

"C'mon honey, I know you need to cum, so cum for me." Joel wrapped his right arm around you, his other going up to hold the back of your warm neck. His cock was hitting so deep in you, you couldn't even form a proper sentence. Your speech was slurred to hell. "I just..." You moaned, your forehead still against his. "Just let me do the work baby." Joel silenced you, kissing you again - That was your breaking point.

You whimpered into the kiss as your pussy tightened immensely around him, milking him, literally. You bit his lower lip, riding out your high. He stopped thrusting in to you. He patted your ass, grabbing your thighs before speaking out, "Get up, get up sweetheart." You immediately obliged, pulling your weak body off of him, his semen pouring onto you. "Jesus fuck." He dug his fingernails into your thighs, it hurt but greatly.

"Heh." You panted out, fixing your undergarments. "What is so damn funny?" "How you act after finishing." "How's that?" "Like a damn dog." You imitated his accent before placing a kiss on his cheek. "I'm exhausted now." You added, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I know darlin'." He hummed, massaging your tense back muscles. "Mmm, how about we go and find ourselves a motel?" "Let's do it." Joel snickered, kissing you once more.

Oh, and he'll still keep that promise about stretching your legs at the motel...

[allthesmutl0vers]

Entirely Forbidden and Completely Fucked- Chapter Six

MDNI, 18+, NSFW

Author's Note:

I am going to start adding episodes from the show into the story. But it does not follow the show completely. For instance, they're not looking for John (yet), Sam and Jess were never a thing, although Sam did go to Stanford a few years ago but came back before y/n came in.

Trigger Warnings: Wincest + Half-Sister, Praise, Degradation, Choking, Withheld Orgasms, Squirting.

Chapter Six

Dean

“Come on, let's go!” I call out to Sam and y/n as I throw my duffle bag into the back seat of the Impala. We don’t have time to waste, and we need to hit the road. We should’ve left last night but I couldn’t leave Sammy and her unsatisfied. Those two, I swear to God. Since that night on the hood of the Impala on our way back from Ellen’s, we’ve been fucking like rabbits around the bunker. Thank God that Dad isn’t here. Never thought I’d say that. 

“You need to relax,” Sam chuckles as he throws his and y/n’s duffles into the back seat and closes the door. I throw him a glare and shake my head.

Y/n slides into the middle seat between me and Sam with a yawn. “Where are we going again?” She asks tiredly.

“Jericho, California,” I remind her as I start the engine, and Sam slides in next to her. “Seatbelt,” I tell y/n as I put the car in drive. 

Y/n laughs and rolls her eyes. “Since when do you care about seatbelts?” She quips with a smirk.

“Just put the damn seatbelt on, y/n,” I snip back. 

“Yes, big brother,” she flirts in that tone of voice she knows drives me crazy. She puts the lap belt on and pats it on her hips. 

“What about me? I’m your big brother too,” Sam flirts, putting an arm over her shoulders on the back of the seat. “Or is Dean your favorite now? Because last night,” he leans down and kisses her neck, and I feel her suck in a breath. “It was my name you were screaming,” he mutters as I pull out of the bunker garage.

Y/n

“I swear, man, you’ve gotta update your cassette collection,” Sam jokes as he digs through the box of cassette tapes Dean has. 

“Why?” Dean asks as we pass the sign that welcomes up into Jericho.

Sam laughs as he pulls out some of the tapes. “Well, for one, they’re cassette tapes. And two: Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica?! It’s the greatest hits of mullet rock,” Sam jokes, holding up the tapes. He has a point Dean could do with updating his music collection. But I think his head would explode if he tried. 

“House rules, Sammy,” Dean says with a smile as he looks over at him. “Driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts his cakehole.”

I laugh and take the box from Sam. “Here, I’ll pick something,” I say, looking through the box. 

“Hey, hey. What did I just say?” Dean says in an offended voice as I pull out the tape I was looking for. 

I give Dean a fake pouting look and give him my best innocent voice that I know he loves. “Please, big brother?” I beg, batting my eyelashes for good measure. 

Dean sighs and narrows his eyes, holding up one finger. “One song,” he says sternly. 

I smile victoriously and switch the cassette tapes, putting in a Bon Jovi one. I skip to the song I want and turn up the stereo volume as ‘You Give Love A Bad Name’ plays over the speakers. I turn to look at Dean and smile. “Good enough for you?” I tease. 

About halfway through the song, Dean turns it down and pulls onto a bridge where cops walk around. This must be where the guy we read about crashed his car. “Stay in the car,” Dean orders me as he reaches over to the glove box and pulls out fake IDs for him and Sam.

“Why can’t I come?” I ask as they both get out. 

Sam sighs and leans down into the car. “Okay, fine, you can come. But don’t say a word. Watch and learn,” he orders me and moves out of the way so I can get out. I smile and get out, noticing the look of disapproval from Dean. But he doesn’t say anything as we walk up to the cops. 

My heart races as my nerves fire off, scared the cops will figure out we’re not law enforcement. 

“Evening, Officers,” Dean greets the cop with a handshake.

The cop looks at Dean suspiciously but shakes his hand. “Evening, gentlemen. This is a crime scene. You need to be behind the tape,” he says firmly, pointing behind us to the yellow police tape.

“Agents Angus and Young,” Sam says as he and Dean flash their fake badges. 

The officer nods, and his demeanor changes as if he’s talking to a colleague. “My apologies, agents. And who is this?” He asks, looking at me between them. 

“Junior agent Smith,” Dean answers cooly. The cop nods and walks them through the crime scene. 

“We don’t know what exactly caused the crash or where he is now,” the cop says disappointedly with a sigh. 

“Was he drinking?” Sam asks as they look over the bridge. 

The cop shakes his head. “No. I don’t believe so. Troy is a good kid. His girlfriend is in town putting up missing persons papers.” 

“And I assume you checked all of the hospitals in the area?” Dean asks. 

The cop nods. “Hospitals, morgues, friends and family, nobody has seen him or someone who resembles his description.” 

“You said the girlfriend is in town?” Sam asks. The cop nods. “What’s her name? We’d like to speak with her.”

“Amy, my daughter,” The cop answers. “Be gentle, she’s obviously upset.”

“Will do, sheriff,” Dean answers with a nod. 

We find Amy outside of a diner in town, and Dean talks to her. “Amy?” Dean says, getting her attention.

“Yeah?” She asks, turning around. Her eyes are bloodshot, and she looks like she hasn’t slept since Troy went missing. 

“I’m Dean, and this is my brother Sam and his daughter y/n. We’re Troy’s uncles,” Dean introduces us. 

“Oh, hi. I’m sorry. I’m doing everything I can to find him,” Amy says with tears in her eyes. 

Sam puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I know, Amy. Your dad told us where we could find you. We were just hoping we could ask you a few questions.”

I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy course through me at Sam touching her. I feel bad for her. Really, I do. But I don’t want their hands on anyone but me.

“Of course,” Amy sniffles. “Um, we can talk inside,” she says, pointing to the diner where she was hanging the posters. 

Inside, I sit quietly while Sam and Dean talk to Amy and her friend Rachel, who showed up. I might have said something if I wasn’t biting my tongue so hard I draw blood. I hate the way Rachel flirts with Dean, but considering he’s supposed to be my uncle, I can’t really say shit. Dean doesn’t flirt back, but that doesn’t make it piss me off any less. 

“I wonder if it has something to do with the legend,” Rachel says quietly to Amy. 

Amy shakes her head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Rach.”

“What legend?” Sam asks curiously next to me, leaning on the table with his elbows.

Amy sighs. “It’s just some stupid local legend,” she says, turning to Rachel. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with Troy.”

“Think about it, Ams,” Rachel says seriously. “The crash, the fact nobody has seen him, it all points to it.”

“What legend?” Dean says impatiently on my other side. 

Rachel turns to Dean. “There’s a legend that a girl got murdered on Centennial Highway, and now, her ghost hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up disappears forever.”

“That’s not what happened to Troy,” Amy says angrily before storming off. Rachel follows after her, quickly apologizing to us before she leaves. 

“Let’s hit the library,” Dean says, standing up from the booth.

Sam

“Move,” I push Dean out of the computer chair and sit down. After all these years, he still sucks at research. 

Dean slaps me on the shoulder. “Dude! You’re such a control freak,” Dean scoffs and stands next to y/n. 

I ignore it, pull y/n into my lap, and open up the search bar again. “So, angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, irritated, leaning on the table next to us. 

“Well, maybe it’s not a murder,” y/n says on my lap. 

I smile and kiss her. “I love how you think,” I praise her, and she smiles. I type ‘Suicide on Centennial’ into the search bar and hit ‘search.’ I find an article from April 25, 1981 and click it. Dean leans over me and y/n and reads along with me. 

The article describes a woman named Constance Welch, who jumped to her death off the bridge after she made a frantic 911 call that she found her two children, ages five and six, drowned in the bathtub when she stepped away for a few minutes. 

“How awful,” y/n says sadly as she reads, wiping a tear from her eyes. I rub her side, comforting her. After losing her mom and still getting no answers, I can only imagine how hard this is hitting her. 

I kiss the side of her head when she leans it on my shoulder. “There’s a statement from her husband,” I point out before reading it aloud. “What happened to my children was a terrible accident. And it must have been too much for my wife. Our babies were gone, and Constance couldn’t bear it,” said husband Joseph Welch. “Now I ask that you all please respect my privacy during this trying time.” I finish reading the quote from her husband. 

Dean points to a picture of the husband standing next to the bridge where Troy died. “Does that bridge look familiar to you?” Dean asks. 

“So this is where Constance took a swan dive,” Dean says, leaning over the bridge railing. 

“Dean, be careful,” Y/n says next to me, a foot behind Dean. 

Dean turns around and smirks at her. “What? Are you scared I’ll fall?” Dean jokes and pretends to fall backward toward the rail. 

“Dean!” Y/n and I say simultaneously and reach out for him. 

“I’m kidding,” Dean laughs. “Seriously, chill out,” Dean says with a smirk to both of us.

Y/n slaps Dean’s chest hard. “Fuck you,” she seethes and whips around, flinging her hair over her shoulder. 

Dean smirks and stands behind her, gathering her hair in his hand and pulling her head back, making her gasp. “What did we tell you about tying back your hair?” Dean asks, holding her waist to his chest. 

“I got a headache,” y/n says softly, leaning into Dean. 

“Mm, you want a different type of ache, princess?” Dean teases, running his hand down her waist and cupping her between her legs. My cock tightens in my jeans as I watch them together. I never imagined sharing Dean with anyone, but then again, I never imagined I’d have a half-sister to share, either. 

I move to stand in front of y/n while Dean stands behind her. I grip her throat and bring my lips to hers. “Pretty sure he asked you a question, baby,” I whisper against her lips. 

She hums and tries to press her lips to mine, but I pull my lips just out of her reach, teasing her. She gasps, and her eyes blow wide. “Sam!” She screams.

I jump back and turn around. A woman in a tattered white dress stands on the rail of the bridge. Dean moves into action and pushes y/n behind us, standing next to me. We only see her for a second before she steps off the railing down into the water. 

We all run to the railing and look over. “Where did she go?” Y/n asks, looking down at the water below. 

“I don’t know,” I respond, shaking my head softly. 

Behind us, an engine comes to life, and we all turn to see the Impala with a running engine and the headlights on. “What the fuck?” Dean questions.

“Who’s driving the car?” I ask Dean. Dean pulls out the keys from his pocket, jingling them in his fingers. The engine revs and shoots toward us. “Go! Go!” I shout as well and start to run. But the car is going too fast, and it’s going to hit us. Dean hops over the railing, and I push y/n over it to Dean before jumping over myself. The car stops right in front of me and suddenly turns off. 

I clutch y/n close to my chest for a moment and help her over the railing, thanking God that she’s okay. When I notice Dean isn’t already over the railing with us, I start to panic. “Dean?!” I call for him. I know he wasn’t hit, there’s no blood, and he went over the railing before us. 

“DEAN!” Y/n shouts, looking over the railing. 

I run over next to her and look down to see Dean crawling out of the water, mud coating his body and a pissed-off look on his face. “Hey, you alright?” I call down to him as he stands up. 

Dean gives me the A-Okay sign with his hand. “I’m super,” he says sarcastically and makes his way back up to us on the bridge. 

Dean puts down the hood of the Impala after checking it and leans on the hood. “Is your car alright?” Y/n asks Dean. 

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. “Whatever she did to it, seems alright now,” Dean says, sitting on the hood. “Constance. That bitch.”

I sit next to y/n on the hood, her between me and Dean. “She doesn’t want us digging around, that’s for sure,” I point out, y/n scooting closer to me. “So where’s the job go from here, genius?” I ask Dean sarcastically. 

“You smell like a toilet,” y/n points out when Dean notices she’s scooting away from him. Dean rolls his eyes and looks at us with a ‘really?’ expression. Me and y/n chuckle softly, and after a moment Dean looks down and chuckles too. 

Y/n

Dean gets a hotel room and cleans up, thank God. I fall back on the motel bed with a sigh. I have no idea how we’re going to get rid of Constance. We don’t even know where she’s buried. There was nothing in the article about a funeral.

“You alright?” Sam asks, lying down on his side next to me. 

“How are we going to get rid of her?” I ask him softly. 

Sam takes a deep breath and brushes my hair behind my ear. “We’ll find her bones and burn them,” he tells me. 

“We don’t even know where they are,” I remind him. 

Sam kisses me. “You’re too stressed out,” he says against my lips. 

I huff a laugh. “And you’re not?” 

Sam runs his hand down my body to the waistband of my jeans. “Maybe we need to blow off some steam,” Sam says, leaning down to kiss my neck. 

I moan softly and bite my bottom lip. “What about Dean?” I ask as Sam unbuttons my jeans. 

Sam moves on top of me and smirks. “Give him a show. The man jumped off a bridge after all,” Sam quips as he pulls my jeans and underwear down my legs. 

I sit up just enough to pull off my shirt and bra. “I like that idea,” I moan softly as Sam starts to kiss up my thighs. I fall back on the bed and squeeze my breasts as Sam’s tongue lands on my clit, licking slow circles. “Mm, Sammy,” I moan, pinching my nipples. 

Sam slides two fingers into me as he starts to suck on my clit, nipping it softly with his teeth, melting pain with pleasure as the knot in my stomach starts to tighten. “Ah, ah,” I moan, my back arching against the mattress. “Just, just like that,” I pant as he curls in fingers inside of me and thrusts them in and out. 

The bathroom door opens, and I watch Dean stop in his tracks at the sight of his brother between my legs, his face buried in my pussy. “Mm, hi, Dean,” I tease and let out a louder moan as Sam thrusts his fingers into me hard. “Sammy is going to make me cum like a good big brother,” I tease him further as he stalks toward me on the bed. 

“Is that so?” Dean asks, dropping the towel from around his waist, and his long, hard cock drips with pre-cum. Dean kneels on the bed next to my head. “Are you going to be a good little sister and make me cum too?” Dean teases as he runs his fingers through my hair. 

Sam’s tongue swirls around my clit again, and I moan. “Yes, Dean,” I open my mouth and stick out my tongue, inviting him inside. 

Dean slides his cock across my tongue and inside of my throat with a hiss. “Fuck. Such a good little slut for your big brothers. Aren’t you y/n?” 

I nod as best I can with Dean in my throat. “Mhmm,” I hum around his cock. I cup his balls with my hand and play with them how he likes. 

“Fuck, yeah, you are,” Dean groans as he thrusts in and out of my throat. “Breath through your nose, y/n,” Dean reminds me when I start to gag around him. I follow his direction, and I can take more of him down my throat without gagging. “Good girl,” Dean praises. 

I’m so wrapped up in pleasing Dean that I don’t notice Sam has stopped eating me out until I feel the tip of his cock push into my entrance. I moan, and my eyes roll back as Sam stretches me, filling me with his long and thick cock. “Ah, ah,” Dean corrects me, grabbing my throat and forcing me to look up at him above me. “Eyes on me when my cock is in your throat, princess,” Dean smirks. 

I moan and do my best to keep my eyes on Dean as he watches Sam grip my hips and plow into me hard and fast. “How’s her pussy, little brother?” Dean groans. 

“So,” Sam moans and thrusts hard into me again. “So fucking wet,” he groans and spreads my legs impossibly far apart, letting his cock reach deeper inside of me. I whimper around Dean’s cock in my throat as Sam repeatedly hits that spot inside of me harder and faster. 

Dean pulls himself out of my throat, and my saliva and Dean’s pre-cum drip down my chin. “F-fuck,” I whimper, gripping the blanket on the bed. “I’m, I’m gonna cum,” I cry out in pain and pleasure. 

Dean slaps my breast, making me gasp, and then massages it. “Not before you ask permission,” Dean teases. 

My head falls back, and my back arches. “P-please,” I whimper, trying to keep the tether inside of me from snapping. 

Dean grips my hair harshly and forces my head up to watch Sam fuck me. “Beg again and watch Sammy fuck that tight little cunt. And maybe we’ll let you,” Dean taunts. 

I make eye contact with Sam. “Please, Sammy,” I whimper, watching his cock pump in and out of me, repeatedly hitting that spot inside of me. “Fuck, please,” I beg again. 

Sam smirks and looks over at Dean. “I’m gonna bust Dean. Does she deserve to cum?” Sam checks with his brother before letting me find my release. 

“Cum with her,” Dean groans, pumping his cock. Dean looks down at me. “Cum. Now,” he demands. 

My legs shake, and my vision blurs as I cum the hardest I ever have before, even with them. I feel Dean shoot ropes of cum across my chest and barely feel Sam’s cum as a gush of wetness squirts from my entrance. 

“What,” I pant, trying to catch my breath. “What was that?” I ask. 

“You squirted,” Sam smiles and runs his fingers up my folds before bringing them to his mouth and sucking them with a satisfied hum. “Have you never done that before?” I shake my head. 

Dean lifts me and moves me to the other bed, laying on top of it with me, and Sam follows, lying down on the other side of Dean, putting him in the middle. “You will again,” Dean promises me. 

“Tonight?” I ask him. I could probably go again. 

Dean shakes his head. “Not tonight. We have a long day tomorrow, and I need you both on your game.” 

“I’m always on my game,” Sam chuckles and kisses Dean, then me. 

“Shut up, both of you and go to bed.”

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💗🥰

[abibliophobiaa]

For the Steve prompt - Whisper

rock the boat

18+, and yea inspired by those pics. forbidden romance (kind of); reader is argyle’s step-sibling; slight voyeurism; unprotected p-in-v intercourse. thank you @loveshotzz for giving this a look-see and also always encouraging my unexpected steve ideas. steve harrington x afab!reader. music insp: rock the boat — aaliyah. (4.2k words)

-

The grounds were set early on and were simple enough: no dating within the party. The ‘rules’ created by your own step-brother, Argyle, who insisted it was for your benefit and protection when Vecna had finally been vanquished and you both moved to Hawkins to be closer to your new found family, and life returned to some semblance of normal.

Which you’d understood—at first.

But no one, and nothing, would have ever prepared you for Steve Harrington. Impossibly handsome with those dark eyes and his perfectly imperfect head of hair, ridiculously charming, and the kind of humorous personality that had your sides shaking and cheeks hurting long after he’d dropped you back off at your shared apartment on the nights you spent together.

The intention hadn’t been to fall into a forbidden romance, and yet you had. It was easy, really. He’d become friends with Eddie, who had then become friends with Argyle and Jonathan who occupied your apartment often. They’d smoke and drink together, laughing over their silly stories and inside jokes, while you snuck glances at the boy.

He noticed quickly. Caught your gaze where you stood in the hallway, in the shelter of shadows within your home, from the armchair you often dropped into on nights Argyle invited you to partake.

Soon enough those imploring stares shifted into more. Turned into gentle touches in the kitchen when he’d offer to grab beers for the guys. A whisper of an almost-kiss against your bedroom doorway at the end of the night, always seemingly interrupted by one of your friends. The glide of your fingers at the nape of his neck while the boys watched a movie and you went to work for the afternoon.

It persisted for months, until one afternoon he worked up the nerve to ask you out properly. You met him in the parking lot after his shift, he tossed your bike in the back of his trunk, and took you to a drive-in after picking up some smoothies from the local diner. You made it approximately five minutes before you’d babbled that you really liked him, and he made it another two before he curled his hand around your cheek and kissed you until your thoughts screamed his name, until every other boy who came before him evaporated into nothingness within your mind.

After that it was months of whispered affection. It was running out of your apartment after Argyle had passed out for a nap, clambering over the center console, and curling your fingers in your boyfriend’s hair. It was riding him in the back seat of his car, your thighs on either side of his hips, gasping as he rolled up into you, urging you onward, his voice singing your praises. It was rushing up the stairs to his parent’s home while they’d gone on another business trip and tumbling into his bed, your underwear on his floor and his mouth hot against your cunt. It was confessions of ‘we shouldn’t be doing this,’ and yet never stopping, because soon they became hushed ‘you’re mines’ and earth-shattering ‘I love yous.’

Yet no one knew. It was your secret, forged in the darkness, and kept close to your heart. A relationship that meant the world to you. But you kept it hidden for so long that it seemed easier than to tell the truth—to not shake the very foundations of the friendships of “The Party” presently seated about the boat you all were perched on.

The same boat Argyle had purchased with the hush money funded by the government after everything that occurred with Vecna. You suggested he do something practical with it, and he insisted bringing a little bit of California to their life in Hawkins made sense. So he docked it at his family home in California, and pretty much demanded that the adults make a road trip.

The weekend away had been…frustrating to put it lightly. The house you all rented on the beach held so few bedrooms, and though you wanted to slip into Steve’s, you couldn’t because he had been pushed into sharing with Eddie. Your step-brother’s brilliant doing. Argyle himself shared with Jonathan, which left the girls to share the largest room.

Which also meant an endless cock-block for the duration of the whole weekend getaway.

The first night you’d cracked the door just the slightest and Eddie had shot up like he’d seen a ghost to launch a pillow at your head. Barked your name so loud you threw yourself onto his bed and clapped a hand over his mouth. Those dark eyes shifted to your face, then darted to Steve’s and he knew. When you’d pulled back, a newfound glint was there, as well as an endless well of blackmail you’d never recover from.

“You two,” he said, dragging his finger along the space between the two of you. “Would be dead if your brother found out. How long has this been going on?”

“Six months,” Steve said, eyes trained on the floor. You tossed a pillow at his head for telling Eddie. Traitor.

“Six months?!” You clapped your hand over his mouth once more, earning a quick thwack to the inside of your wrist. “Wait—you came in here…to hook up, didn’t you? While I was sleeping?!”

"Don't act like you've never snuck around with anyone," you hissed. "I saw you slip away at the bar last night with that girl. Where'd you go off to?"

"That's none of your business. Plus she wasn't a party member. You are," he grumbled, rolling over and knocking you onto the floor in a heap. Steve's arms reached out to grab at you but you shoved free, glowering at the metalhead. "You two need to tell him before he catches one of you with your pants down, just saying."

Not gonna happen, you thought.

Though you often dreamed of coming clean, of being out in the open, of loving Steve in the light. And you knew he wanted the same. But every time you opened your mouth to tell your step-brother, every time the words formed on your lips, you pictured his disappointment and you tampered it away.

Filed it away for another day, for a maybe, or a never.

-

Sunlight gleamed over the water's surface. Bright and crystalline, staring up at you mockingly as waves crashed against the boat's exterior. Before you, Eddie glanced on with a smirk, poised at you where you sat beside Steve.

Everything about the boat ride was loathsome. Steve’s hip barely brushed yours and your fingers itched to reach out and touch him. To curl around Steve's palm and put an end to the sneaking, hiding, and endless lies. To put an end to the sneaking in after dark, the telling your step-brother you'd merely been working extra hours, to having to watch as the guys all lingered in your living room and wait until Argyle later slipped into his bedroom when they'd all left to let Steve back in. If only so he could crawl into your bed and your arms.

All around you, friends talked about their day. Lived normally, without harboring secrets—no deceit to plague their consciences. Conversed about the happenings of their lives, snacked on bags of chips with colorful labels on the fronts, sunglasses glinting in the daylight. Robin laughed in the distance at something Nancy had said, and Jonathan snapped photo after photo of the skyline, the group, the captain at the head of the boat commandeering the whole thing. He'd had his sights set on the restaurant appearing before you now. Close enough that you could see it, smell the barbecue food cooking, hear the chatter of patrons at the bar, their jovial laughter.

At least some people are having fun, you thought, glancing up at the sky as a particularly strong thump against the boat sent you careening into Steve's lap.

"Sorry about that, my dudes. Still a little rusty," Argyle shouted over the water, head turning over his shoulder to where you were sprawled over his best friend's thighs. "Are you two okay back there?"

"Just fell!" You shouted back, hating the way you pulled back quickly from Steve like he'd burned you. Because he never had, never would.

'Tell him,' Eddie mouthed when Argyle pointed his attention back ahead, eyes narrowed at the both of you. But you only ignored him. Instead you focused your attention on sea-foam and the dock appearing on the water's edge. On quieting the thump thump of your heart in your chest, dulling the desire roiling in your gut, and the frustration over the fear you harbored that could also very well free you if only you'd will yourself to just do it once and for all.

Some time later, after Argyle docked the boat, you leaned up and brushed your lips over Steve's ear. A soft and whispered, "Pretend you're feeling seasick. Trust me."

It was enough for Steve. He needed no further convincing and splayed a palm over his abdomen, leaning over the back of the boat like one would should they need to expel the contents of their stomach. Your hand came up and rested sympathetically against his shoulders, eyes rounded in worry as everyone around you peered over to inspect the scene.

“Are you okay, honey?” Robin asked, her palm curling over Steve’s neck, just above your own.

“‘M okay. Just need a minute,” he moaned, lowering his head further to hide his face. “Go on ahead, I’ll catch you all later.”

“Hey Arg?” Your voice raised high above the other worried prattling around you. His eyes darted your way, nodding. “I’ll stay with him.”

“Right…” he said, voice trailing. “You practically grew up on boats. Makes sense. Alright dudes, we’ll grab a table; you two meet up with us whenever Harrington’s done expelling his breakfast.”

-

“Missed you,” you whimpered against the column of his throat.

Alone at last, you licked a long stripe against the curve of his neck, nipping and sucking. Paid attention to the birth marks you knew were one below the other, teeth grazing delicate flesh, jolting beneath your affections as you went. Steve was all coconut sunscreen lathered skin against his golden skin and broad arms wrapped around your lower back. Fingers that eventually drifted further and clutched at the dough of your ass, confined in the jean shorts hiked high on your thighs where you now sat, thighs draped on either side of his hips.

“Yeah, baby?”

He rasped the words in the shell of your ear, his cheek pressed to yours, rocking you against his jean-clad lap. Made sure you could feel him and the hardness that kicked up in his jeans when you ground down just right over him.

“Touched myself to the thought of you in bed last night,” you admitted.

Heat pooled in your chest, and downward. The bikini you wore beneath your jean shorts was already embarrassingly slick with your arousal.

“Honey, with the girls around?”

His smirk indicated he liked it. Very much so. Practically purred the words, nosing along your collarbones, pressing kiss after kiss into your skin.

You hummed idly. Combed your fingers through his long tresses. “Waited till they were asleep.”

“Missed me that much?” Teeth grazed an earlobe and released it with a pop, a shudder wracking throughout your body.

“Uhuh.” A pinched whine fell as you rocked against his lap, relishing in the heat of him straining through the confines of his jeans, wanting to be freed.

“What did you think about?” At your silence, he continued. “Come on, baby. Use your words for me.”

“Your fingers.”

“Where?”

A finger slid up between you. Brushed along your lips as a start, eyes connected to his when you trailed a path down the line of your chest. Over your sternum where your heart thrashed wildly. The lines of your abdomen, the softness of your flesh, the button on your shorts. Then lower still, dragging a slow circle along your clothed cunt, bottom lip pinched between your lips.

“What else?”

“Your c-cock; how g-good it feels when you’re inside me—mmm.” Another pinched whine as he tugged down your shirt to bare you to him, as well as the small triangle of your bikini, tongue swirling your sensitive bud of flesh.

His fingers released and your bikini snapped back into place. Desire burned behind Steve’s eyes, dark and round with want. “How long do you think we have?”

Normally, Steve would have had you on your back first, with his mouth buried in your cunt. He’d spend hours there if he could, teasing you. Alternating between suckling your clit and trailing delicate figures, fingers curled deep within you until your foot would eventually tremble against the middle of his back and you’d arch up involuntarily into his awaiting face. He’d toss a forearm over your hips, would press you harder into the mattress, floor, couch, or the back of his car. Would coax you through your orgasm until you grew limp within his arms, and his name was the only word uttered by your lips. But you didn’t have the luxury of time on your side now.

“Few minutes,” you whispered, leaning down to claim his lips, gasping into his eager mouth as fingers worked to free you from your shorts and slide them down your thighs. “Maybe ten. Make ‘em count, Harrington.”

“Bend over the side of the boat for me then, baby.”

Heat rushed throughout your body at his words. The scandal of it, the way nervousness immediately manifested itself in the worrying of your bottom lip. You clambered over his thighs all the same still, knees knocking against the padded cooler presently used as a bench, hitching forward slightly at the waist. A palm came up to rest between your shoulder blades, a strong, comforting chest following suit. Another skirted up and along your waist, over your chest, cupping beneath your ribcage gently.

“What if someone sees, Steve?”

Your eyes trained ahead on the rock formation partially obscuring the boat from the public eye. But you wondered how much it protected you from prying stares—from those who might enjoy the spectacle of a summer tryst. That fear soon quelled, the thrill of being wrapped up in Steve erasing any other thought from your mind.

“We’re good,” he soothed reassuringly against your ear, hand sliding back down over your stomach, then further still to brush against your center, finding you soaked through your bikini bottom. “This is all for me, honey?”

You swallowed your reply, shuddering as he shifted behind you, hips grinding against your ass so you could feel what you’d done to him. Faintly, you overheard the sound of his zipper sliding down. The tinker of his fingers moving to unbutton his jeans. The fumble to push fabric down far enough to free his cock. Your head turned just enough over your shoulder to take him in. Fingers curled around himself, tip already leaking for you, free hand coming to curl around the fabric separating you from him at last.

“Open up wider,” he prompted with a smack to your ass. Immediately rubbed it affectionately to smooth the ache away as soon as it came. You shifted as requested, swallowing a choked moan as his head nudged at your entrance. “Ready for me?”

Head nodding, he pushed in slowly, your breath shaking on a stuttered exhale as he sank in inch by inch. The initial stretch of him had always left you breathless—even after all the times you'd been with him. The kind of breathlessness that had your eyes rolling back, a forearm pressed into your mouth to keep yourself from altering those around you of what you’d gotten up to.

Behind you, Steve started to move, one hand curled around your hip and clutching tight to your flesh, the other between your thighs, rolling perfected circles into your clit, listening to your sighs and moans as you clenched down around him. He moved slowly. Short, practiced movements as you adjusted to him. A gentle ebb and flow, almost devastatingly slow. A delicate drag along your inner walls. Rocked against the swell of your ass, thumb kneading your flesh, parting you for him. In your impatience, you pushed back against him, palms leveraging you enough to force him deeper. Harder. Trying to chase that peak—to reach the euphoria you craved for days now, subdued by the endless prying eyes on you both at all times.

“Love you,” you rasped, forehead dropping down onto your forearm. “Love you so much, Stevie.”

“I love you, too.”

A mantra. A whispered mantra that punched you in the gut as he thrusted into you over and over and over again. Until he slid back. Inched out completely and cool air flowed over your cunt, chilling your slick skin. A whine spilled from your parted lips, choked off only by the delicate brush of Steve’s fingers at your center, slipping and sliding against the wetness there, circling it into your flesh, pushing it inside. He made a mess of you like that. The dirty squelch of his fingers meeting your slick making your breath hitch, chest rising and falling swiftly. Needy, you felt needy, hips wiggling into emptiness as he chuckled behind you.

Delicate fingers clutched at your ass, palmed you open for him, teeth nipping against skin tauntingly. He nudged at your center once more, pressure applied only just, skittering over where you wanted him most. Where you wanted him to sink into, to force the breath free from your lungs, to pound into you until you screamed his name and quivered around him, boneless in your release.

“Steve…” The name came out as an elongated whine. “Stop teasing me. Please. Fuck—just fuck me.”

“So impatient, baby.”

He cooed the words, no malice imbued his tone. And yet you wanted to turn around, to grip him by the neck of his shirt and drag his mouth against yours. To crush him to your breast, biting down into his lip until he groaned.

He laughed again, lifting you up just enough so he could settle your back against the lines of his chest. You relished in that heat, the ridges of his abdomen flush with you, the weight of him with every inhale and exhale. Fingers curled around your chin, thumb prodding at your bottom lip. The other palm, the one that lingered between the two of you, curled around himself. Pushed back into you in time with the lips that descended upon your own.

Too much. It was too much and not enough all at once, mind a whirling haze of colors as he started to set a relentless pace. Held you through it as your body danced closer and closer to your climax, knees trembling upon the bench, the sounds of fleshy smacks against your backside and the fingers circling your clit drowning out the rest of the world.

“Come on, baby. Come on my cock. Wanna watch you fall apart, pretty girl.”

“Steve—!”

You fell apart together. Warmth spilled within you as you trembled and shook in his arms. Your body nearly pitched forward from the weight of your orgasm, held upright only by the arm that looped around your waist to keep you tethered to reality. Bodies tangling, you rolled over onto the bench. Steve slipped free from your body, bathing suit bottom sliding back into place. A sigh followed. Forehead resting against his, you tried to catch your breath. Gasped heat from parted mouths pooled and filled the spaces between the two of you, quieted only by the melding of his lips against yours.

That…and the sound of footsteps against the dock. Heavy thuds that had you jolting upright and thankful you’d only removed your shorts and Steve had enough time to tug his pants back on and loop the button through the hole before your visitor was ever the wiser. The visitors being none other than Argyle and Jonathan, who presently stood, wide-eyed and absolutely not at all shocked to be seeing what they had.

Which…terrified you more than you ever thought imaginable.

“We’re fucked,” Steve muttered beside you.

And yeah, he was probably right.

-

“Look, Arg, I can explain!”

Steve lingered behind with Jonathan. And probably for the best, what with the way your step-brother looked at you like he’d been betrayed when you immediately rushed forward to try and hug him. Your always joyful step-sibling, though not quite surprised looking, held a certain unfamiliar sadness in his expression that shattered your heart. This dawning realization you’d done something to hurt him.

“I know he’s your friend, but I-I—”

“You love him,” he finished, turning to face you where you stood on the sandy ground. “Look, sis, I know you two have been sneaking around.”

“You—you what?”

“I’ve known. For months, actually. Did you think you were really that good at sneaking his giant head through your window? Also, he’s like…stupid loud when he comes in the front door at night, man. Harrington has two left feet.”

“I mean…” Frustrated, you pouted. “I thought we were doing fine. The sneaking around part, I mean.”

“Nope,” he said, hair blowing in the gentle breeze. “The two of you giggle a ton. And the walls are paper thin in our apartment.”

You…definitely didn’t want to unpack that one.

“Then why are you mad at me?”

You waved your hand in front of his face, outlining the dejected expression on his features. Hated the way he looked at you; like he’d been disappointed in you. You reached out to touch him, catching on the sleeve of his button up tee with palm trees littered all over it. When he didn’t flinch, you stepped closer.

“I’m not mad,” he admitted softly. Reassuringly. “I’m just…upset that you didn’t tell me yourself.”

“You told me I couldn’t date him! No Party on Party macking—you said it!” Jonathan and Steve paused at that, the sounds of their footfalls skittering to a hard stop. “And I didn’t mean to, okay? It wasn’t like I told myself to fall in love with the guy. It just happened.”

“Look—it’s my fault, too. Don’t just be upset with her. I…” Steve appeared at your side, hand at your lower back. Familiar. Affectionate. It dropped as Argyle’s eyes drifted south, watching you both intently. “I love her, man.”

Jonathan whistled in the distance. Argyle’s eyes darted to him, his answering response a shrugged pair of shoulders, and then returned to Steve. “You love her?”

“I love her,” he said fiercely. “I…I really do.”

“And you love him?”

You nodded, curling yourself into Steve’s side. “I’m sorry, Arg. I should have told you. I was scared, and there was never the right moment, and then too much time had passed and I—”

“Are you happy?” he asked you, and your eyes glittered with unshed tears, because yes, yes you were. “Just wish you’d talked to me. You know you can talk to me about anything. We’re family.”

Rushing forward, you curled your arms around your step-sibling, clutching the back of his shirt in your palm. A warm palm, his palm, glided up to rest at your middle back. Hugged you closer as you whispered over and over again to his cheek, now presently against yours, that you were sorry.

“Can’t believe you really thought you two were doing a good job sneaking around.” You slapped him playfully in the stomach, and he pushed you back just enough within the circle of his arms to smile at you. “I love you, sis. And you too, dude. If you both are happy, then I’m happy. Just, uh, next time the two of you have some sort of secret—maybe don’t wait six months to come clean about it, yeah?”

“Ditto,” you laughed, surging forward to hold him again. “Love you.”

A relaxed sigh rattled your bones as you gripped Steve’s hand openly now on your way toward the restaurant, now with Argyle’s blessing attached to it. You didn’t miss the way your step-brother smiled, actually smiled, at your interlocked fingers. Smiled at the way Steve always made sure you were close, be it a reassuring word in your ear, or the brush of his lips at your forehead just as the rest of your friends appeared at the table you’d been assigned.

Brows arched all around upon your arrivals. Thoughts unspoken filled each and every face, stares halting on the hand presently held within your own. Argyle and Jonathan settled down, while you and Steve remained at the head of the table, smiling weakly.

“Okay so…” you began, swallowing thickly. “We wanted to just clear the air and say that…”

“We’re dating,” Steve blurted out, couching at the end. At the unphased expressions all around you, he continued. “Have been for a while now, actually.”

Bracing for impact, you squeezed Steve’s hand tighter.

He squeezed yours back.

And yet nothing prepared you for the resounding, “We know!” from everyone around you.

When you met Eddie’s gaze, he wore a shit-eating grin. Liar pretended he hadn’t known.

“W-what?” you rasped, heart thundering away.

“You’re both not exactly known for being subtle,” Robin expressed, and the pitying gazes all around the table confirmed their agreement.

Your face turned into Steve’s neck, mortification hidden in the shelter of his awaiting body. “Oh my gosh.”

“Well,” he said softly into your hair, laughter shaking his frame. “At least the cat is out of the bag. I love you.”

But gosh, you loved him too.

-

-

[heartbreakgrill]

stiles stilinksi: breakable heaven; pt. 4, “you say that we'll just screw it up in these trying times, we’re not trying.”

a/n: thank you for all of the love! this takes place at the beginning of season 3, but there's some weird things i chose to do. they're in lacrosse season and cross country at the same time to stay relevant to both mine and the show's plot. also, the season only takes place over like three months, so it's gonna seem fast, though that's how it canonically goes. much love, friends!

trigger warning: this is the motel California episode, so a brief mention of unaliving.

tagging: @ariianelle (dm me if you’d like to be tagged! i lose a lot of comments in my notifs <3)

“can we please play some real music?”

y/n glanced up from her phone, open on the texts between her and danny, to see megan reaching through the front seats, towards the radio. y/n snickered slightly as the drake song switched to a pop station.

leo huffed from the driver’s seat, “baby, we’ve talked about this! driver picks the music!”

“baby,” megan mocked with a silly expression, “i don’t care. i’m not listening to just drake songs for another 5 hours.”

y/n hummed in agreement, “girls rule, boys drool.”

jack scoffed from the passenger seat, “you’re never gonna win that fight, leo.”

megan looked towards her with proud defiance, and offered up her palm for a high five. y/n gave her one, before looking back down to her phone. danny had sent another message.

danny: idk this lower classman looks like he’s about to get hella sick and stiles keep bugging him

y/n: so do you think the bus is gonna stop??? i have to pee soooo badly

danny: lemme ask coach

danny: oh stiles is already asking coach hang on

danny: coach says no

danny: it’s ok if u guys aren’t directly behind us

y/n: no it’s not just that i just don’t wanna be a bother to anybody by having to stop the car. plus leo’s already gonna be in trouble for missing the bus lol

danny: ugh whatever

danny: o fuck lower class man just fucking project uke vomited

danny: see u in a sec lover 😝❤️

–

the big yellow bus donned with the beacon hills school name across the side of it pulled bumpily into a motel parking lot. the inhabitants cringed from both the poor driving and the lingering smell of puke. unlike the rest of them, stiles sat proudly, with an all-too pleased smile on his expression.

y/n bounced in her seat slightly as leo pulled the car into a parking spot. she peered around in an attempt to find a bathroom area. she would’ve used the bathroom back at the rest stop, but leo thought it would be smart to get ahead of the bus.

now, it looked like they’d all be trapped in some motel that looked straight out of that psycho movie.

megan tapped her shoulder and pointed towards the front office. “let’s go ask the lady in there.”

leo had missed the bus for the cross country meet this morning, and since y/n, jack, and megan were already planning on coming out to support him, they carpooled together. they didn’t always make it out to meets, especially not ones hours from home, but they each had free weekends, and thought it would be fun to tag along.

y/n and megan went off to the bathroom, while leo and jack joined the hoard of students. danny, having just collected the key to his room, spotted two of his friends. they waved him over, and danny happily jogged their way.

stiles glanced over at danny as he went. he recognized jack and leo and peered around for megan, maybe even y/n. she hadnt responded to his text, the one he sent on tuesday, the day after their encounter in the jeep. he apologized for rushing out of there so quickly. but she hadn’t even read it.

scott said something, drawing stiles attention away. they went off to find their room, lydia and allison, isaac and boyd, closely behind them. just as they found the external stairs, y/n and megan came trotting out of the front office.

danny saw his best friend over jack’s shoulder and lit up. “oh, my love!”

y/n grinned and jumped up on the toes of her shoes. “hello, handsome!” she hugged him.

“listen,” leo cut into their moment, pointing over to coach finstock. “i’m gonna go see if coach will get us a room, since i’m supposed to be on that bus anyways.”

megan latched onto his hand, “i’ll come with!”

danny, y/n, and jack waved after them. y/n sighed, and glanced around the crowd of students, who were breaking off into groups. danny followed her gaze and snorted with a smirk.

“what?” she glanced up at him.

“he just went to find his room,” danny pointed towards the stairs behind them. “wanna go say hi?”

y/n waved him off, quickly, antsy on her feet, “no, no. that’s not what we agreed on, remember? i am staying away.”

danny nodded his head, slow, as if he didn’t really believe her. “we’ll see how long that lasts.”

y/n scoffed and punched his shoulder. “i mean it, you ass. mindless sex is the last thing i need right now.”

jack looked up from his phone, “who’s having mindless sex?”

y/n waved him off, “literally nobody.”

“i think you should,” jack shrugged, looking back down at his phone.

she crossed her arms and popped a hip, “excuse me?”

jack glanced back up, “i’m just saying. you spent how long moping over sam. best way to get over someone is to get under somebody else.”

at the mention of sam, y/n usually felt her chest constrict slightly. it happened this time, too, like the trigger of his name blew out all her defenses. but, she recovered quickly.

that had been happening a lot more lately- recovery. he didn’t have as much a hold on her anymore.

danny snickered at jack’s words, “oh, you have no idea-“

y/n shoved danny harshly. “would you two shut the fuck up? my sex life is not public business.”

“of lack, thereof,” jack mumbled to himself.

y/n went to clap back, when megan and leo showed back up with a singular room key. leo held it up between his fingers, and wiggled it, “could only get one, but- room 216.”

“thank god,” jack took the key from leo, “i could use a shower.”

he led the way to the stairs, and megan and leo followed closely behind. y/n started after them, but faltered her steps once she realized. megan would want to sleep with leo, leaving the only other open bed in jack’s name. he’d say it’s not big deal, that they could sleep in the same bed no problem. but, even though they’d been in the same friend group for a few years now, she didn’t trust him all that much.

she turned back to danny, “please, please, please let me stay in your room with you-?”

danny looked down at her, shoulders dropping as he noticed her eyes turn up in a sappy, puppy-dog manner. he rolled his eyes, “of course you can, you don’t have to make that pathetic face. i’m rooming with ethan, but he doesn’t care. let’s go.”

danny called over the new kid and explained the rooming situation to him. he was completely okay with it, and introduced himself to y/n formally. she’d seen him around and heard about him, but this was the first she’d spoken to him. he was friendly enough.

y/n followed danny and ethan up the stairs. they ran into megan, jack, and leo and passed on the rooming news to them. then, just as they began moving along, the door beside them popped open. scott and stiles piled out.

y/n, frivolous and non-confrontational, did a two-step around ethan, slotting herself beside danny and the railing. stiles didn’t pay enough attention to anything, but he smelled her shampoo linger through the air. stiles looked over just quick enough to watch her disappear into the room beside his and scott’s.

this was going to be a long night.

–

luckily, danny had an extra pair of boxers for y/n to wear as makeshift pajama bottoms. the two boys, sweaty and tired from the bus ride in, took turns showering, while y/n scrolled mindlessly through the television. afterwards, ethan and danny made themselves comfy on the other bed. they were in a similar situation as y/n and stiles- sleeping together, with the agreement that feelings wouldn’t get involved. tale as old as time.

“man, i wish we had snacks. i’m starving,” danny pointed out as he pulled the covers over his legs. ethan sat a few feet from his left shoulder, as if they were trying to keep distance between them.

but, y/n wasn’t stupid- she recognized the tension between them. she knew it all too well. she knew danny wanted to hold ethan’s hand, knew ethan’s darting eyes lingered on danny’s lips- more than once. while ethan started their movie, she came up with the idea to give them a few moments alone. she’d read enough romance books to know the trope- one of them would break eventually.

“i saw a vending machine,” y/n recalled, sitting up in the bed, “i’ll go grab some stuff.”

she collected her purse from the floor and the room key from danny’s bedside table, before her friend could protest. she passed danny a knowing look as she slipped out the door. she wriggled her eyebrows in delight. danny rolled his eyes, though he was blushing, and the tiniest smile cracked his lips.

y/n’s tennis shoes creaked against the floor of the balcony. the motel was obviously old, with rusted corners. it had the faint smells of dust bunnies and moth balls whipping through the air. the sun had set since the start of their movie, and it made the already creepy setting a little more chilling. it was comforting that she saw a few of her classmates, moving between rooms, hanging out on the balcony. but, even though there were plenty of people, the motel had a way of making her feel felt deserted, distant from the rest of the world.

she turned the corner and finally saw the vending machine, tucked into the corner with the ice. she spent a few minutes picking out a few different things, and even managed to stretch out the time by popping open a bag of m&m’s. she checked her phone and saw that ten minutes had finally passed. y/n felt she could return now. if they hadn’t confessed their love for each other, hopefully they’d at least kissed or something.

y/n slid the key into the door handle, hitting it loudly against the metal in order to make danny and ethan aware of her return. she slowly, surely, opened the door. much to her surprise- and delight- she was met with the sight of way too much bare ass skin.

y/n slammed the door closed, eyes squeezed shut, a little scarred from whoever’s ass she had just seen. shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door, and she assumed danny and ethan were sorting themselves out. but, she felt bad, cockblocking them, so she called out, “hey, don’t even worry about it. i’m gonna go ask lydia if she has makeup wipes. you two…have loads of fun!”

y/n huffed out a breath. her hand fell off the door knob, and she looked around. lydia was just two doors down. she remembered seeing the redhead with allison, when they went inside their room earlier. but, she couldn’t remember if it was the door right next to theirs, or the one after it.

she wasn’t really sure.

all she did know was that stiles and scott were behind one of those two doors. and with her luck…

y/n opted for just sitting on one of the chairs in front of danny’s room. she pulled up a book on her phone. danny would text her, or even come and find her, once he was done doing whatever it is he was doing.

it was taking all her willpower to ignore stiles. the fact that she even missed him as much as she did was a red flag on the entire situation. she tried to convince herself that she didn’t miss him, but his lips, his words, his ability to draw out of her a feeling she’d never really known.

but thinking like that made it worse.

y/n occupied her mind with a few pages in her book. but, as she turned another chapter, she heard a a couple pairs of feet scuttle up the stairs. two voices she recognized were speaking in hushed whispers, anxiety setting their tones. y/n looked up from her phone, flushing a little when she saw stiles’ face in the dim light of the motel balcony. they were coming her way.

she tucked her chin into her chest, eyes glued to her phone, hoping they wouldn’t be paying enough attention to notice her. her chest was tight. she felt tingly.

that luck of hers…

“y/n? hey, hey, what’re you doing here?” stiles pushed past scott, squatting to his knees before her. his hand came to rest on her knee, his touch soft and warm.

y/n didn’t realize how cold she was, in just her tank top that she wore and the boxer’s she borrowed from danny. she shivered, brows drawing together in concern. “what?”

stiles sounded worried, a little scared, like there was something really wrong. his eyes fluttered around her, over his shoulder towards scott. the latter boy’s hair was wet, and y/n glanced out to the parking lot to see if it was raining. the wind whipped towards them, and the smell of gasoline prickled her nose. she looked back at scott, tilting her head. was he covered in gasoline?

stiles squeezed her knee, “what room are you in? you need to get inside, here, cmon.” he grabbed onto her hand, entwined his fingers with hers like it was habitual. pulled her to her feet.

“what’re you talking about?” y/n furrowed her brows, squeezing onto his hand.

scott spoke this time, “it’s, uh- we saw an animal or something weird in the parking lot. like, a mountain lion or-“ he exchanged a confused look with stiles, like neither were sure of his testimony, “or something.”

y/n shivered, again, fear from all of the animal attacks that plagued beacon hills settling on her skin in the form of goosebumps. stiles noticed and he quickly shrugged his coat off. he slid it around her easily, “what room are you in?”

“d-danny’s,” she stepped closer to him, grabbed his hand again. she pointed to the room in front of them. “we need to tell coach. what if it-“

“danny and ethan’s?” stiles clarified as he cut her off. she nodded, words falling from her lips.

scott and stiles shared a look, and the latter boy shook his head. “why don’t you come hang out with us for a bit? we can watch a movie or something?” scott offered.

y/n shrugged, “i guess. i’ll text danny and let him know. hey, we should really-“

“it’s okay,” stiles led her into their room, and scott followed.

she slipped out of her shoes and sat, warily, on the edge of one of their beds. stiles peeked out through the blinds, on guard from whatever was out there. y/n felt there was more to the situation than either of them was going to let on. being in such close corners with scott now- the gasoline was so thick in the air. but, the mountain lion story alone was enough to freak her out.

and, she didn’t know if she needed or even wanted to know anything more. weird things always seemed to happen in this town. she didn’t need a reason to have a panic attack.

scott got a text. he quickly pulled out his phone. the abrupt end of the silence lingering in the room made y/n jump slightly.

stiles reared his head towards his friend, “what? what is it?”

scott’s eyes glanced over to y/n, who was staring blankly at the floor. her knee bounced up and down, and she hugged her arms around herself. “um,” scott was coming up with an excuse, “i’m just gonna go check on allison and lydia.”

he opened the door to leave, and y/n shot up from the bed. “be careful! you really should go tell coach, too.”

scott nodded, “yeah, sure.” he slipped out of the room.

stiles turned to y/n, fidgeting with his hands. he stepped towards her, concern laced in his tired eyes, “hey, you okay?”

y/n always noticed how tired he always was. but, tonight, it seemed he was more so.

she stepped a little closer to him, examining his gaze intently, “i’m fine. just a little- a little freaked out. the animal attacks in this town are no joke.”

“yeah, tell me about it,” stiles mumbled. he was shaken up from the events taking place this evening- his friends possessed by some deadly energy, scott’s near suicide. but, he forced on a strong front. y/n needed his comfort and security, no matter how many texts from him she hadn’t answered.

y/n watched his stare fall to the floor, and he faded out a little. she touched his forearm, grounding him back to earth. he met her eye. she frowned, “are you okay?”

“yeah, yeah,” he waved her off, “just…tired, ya know. long day.”

“why don’t you lay down?” y/n offered. she tightened her grip on his arm, moving it up to his elbow.

his breath hitched. he missed her touch like water. , now it was flooding him.

he nodded and stepped towards the bed. “will you- lay with me?” he thought over his own words, and quickly tried to make it seem less romantic, “in, like, a not weird way? i don’t know- nevermind.”

“yeah, stiles,” y/n brushed his words off, “i can lay with you. in a not weird way. friends can…friends can cuddle.”

he ignored the way that word stabbed his chest, and led them to the bed. stiles slid off his shoes, pushed back the covers, and fell into the bed. he lay on his back and held open his arm for her. she slotted herself into his side.

it was warm. comfortable.

both of them fell asleep within minutes.

–

a week passed, and neither of them mentioned that night.

they didn’t talk about it when they had sex in the stiles’ jeep, after the meet. they didn’t talk about it the next day at her house, when they had sex, again. or, any of the three other times they had sex.

they didn’t talk about the fact that neither of them had slept that well in months. they didn’t talk about the fact that y/n clutched onto stiles’ like he’d leave with one wrong breath.

and they especially didn’t talk about the fact that stiles kissed y/n’s forehead before he drifted off.

and told her, “thank you.”

–

y/n didn’t want to tell danny. so, she didn’t.

but, he knew her better than anybody, so he caught onto the fact that she had, at the very least, been sleeping with stiles ago.

according to danny, she had a, “glow about her.”

y/n shoved his shoulder, hitting her palm off of his uniform pads. she hissed at the pain and held her wrist limply in her other hand.

“that’s what you get for being a whore,” danny joked, poking her side.

she winced at the touch. “ouch! you’re a dick.”

“you’re gonna turn into one!” danny turned back to his locker, rummaging around for the rest of his gear.

y/n crossed her arms over her chest. she was wearing danny’s jersey again for the game. “and what about it?”

“nothing! there’s literally nothing wrong with it,” danny shrugged. he pulled his glove from the top of his locker and turned around, pointing it at her. “i just know you.”

y/n knew what that meant. she knew why danny was concerned. she knew herself, too. she knew how these things ended.

but she was choosing not to care.

“whatever,” she pushed the glove away from her face, “just- good luck on your game, asshole.”

she gave danny a tight hug before heading towards the exit. there were a few other players still in there, getting dressed, chatting about the plays for the game.

she spotted stiles at his locker. he met her eye and grinned. a blush adorned her cheeks. she waved.

y/n was about to open the door when stiles came bounding up behind her. he held it open for her, leaning over to do so, and his face ended up right beside hers.

“hey,” he sounded breathless.

y/n smiled, “how are you?”

they hadn’t seen each other since wednesday. y/n had a few projects for school, and work, so her schedule was jam packed. stiles missed her like crazy, but of course, he couldn’t really say that.

“good,” he nodded.

they moved out into the hallway as they spoke. the door fell shut behind them.

“listen,” stiles went to say, as y/n said, “sorry.”

“go ahead,” they spoke over each other.

“sorry,” y/n laughed. she brushed hair back from her face.

stiles’ drew his eyes over her skin, which was painted with white and red dots around her eyes. “your makeup looks pretty,” he found himself saying.

y/n touched her cheek, insecurely, “oh, thank you.”

stiles, caught up in the moment, gently pulled her hand from her face. he dropped it to her side and then moved his touch to her chin. he drew her eyes to his, arching her face upwards. y/n’s breath caught in her throat.

“what do i get if i win?” stiles found himself saying, a devilish grin on his face.

y/n was astounded by how good stiles had gotten at all this- the foreplay, the teasing, the things he’d say to her. he was an insecure, neurotic, freak most of the time. but, beneath the sheets, he’d learned control, confidence, power. it inspired security within her, positive self consciousness in her body, her movement.

and, though this made her face beat red, she smiled slightly. y/n wrapped her arms around his shoulders, entangling her fingers in his hair, and she pressed her lips into his. stiles nearly melted at her touch, curving his body into hers. y/n felt his dick harden against her thigh. she held back a grin.

and she pulled away.

“you’ve gotta win first,” she shrugged, pretending she was innocent to everything.

she began walking away, proud. stiles groaned in response and watched her hips, intently.

“you are such a tease!” she shrugged again, not even glancing back. not until he called out, “hey!”

she looked back at him, “what?”

“you look cute in that jersey, by the way.”

he winked at her before disappearing inside the locker room.

y/n faltered slightly. the moment sunk into her skin.

oh, no.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Deadly Proposal: Part Two

Pairing: Vampire!Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: none, minor angst, vampire bites and drinking blood

Summary: Dean takes you to his mansion where you will be living. There are only two rules to being his. Will you comply or leave? Will he let you? More importantly, will he be able to keep his past separate from his future?

PART ONE

Square Filled: satin for @spnonewordbingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Being in the presence of a vampire is something you never thought you be. All you’ve heard is horror stories of them kidnapping humans and feeding off them like blood slaves. Dean is different. He took one taste of your blood and decided you were worth saving. He hasn’t tried to hurt you, hasn’t tried to feed on you, and tries to keep you comfortable on the ride to his place.

Vampires can reside anywhere throughout the United States, but they tend to stay in the colder parts. Dean has plenty of places scattered across the States but his main property is in Rhode Island. They have cold winters but cool summers which Dean appreciates. The drive is kind of tense since this is a new situation for you, but you try to calm yourself down.

Dean’s property is acres upon acres that houses a huge mansion, a massive pool/seating area, and probably much more. There are high bushes and trees blocking the view of the house from all sides, and there is a security gate at the entrance. Dean is very serious about his privacy which you can understand why. You would be too if you were a centuries-old vampire. 

Why you? Why is your blood special? Why doesn’t he just kill you like any other vampire would? When Dean offered you his deal, you thought you were making a smart decision. Your sister has become a very serious problem that you hate dealing with because it’s the same shit all the time. However, since arriving at Dean’s mansion, you’re not so sure you made the right decision.

“Wow, this is beautiful and looks expensive.”

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you learn to save and put your money in the right stocks. It took a while, but I make money every hour without having to lift a finger.”

“Must be nice,” you scoff.

Dean parks in his multi-car garage and you both get out. He escorts you inside and to the room you’re going to be staying in. This room is massive with a huge chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. The California King bed sits on a platform with a couch to the right of it. A vanity is on the right of it and next to that is a huge walk-in closet fit with carousels, a platform, headless mannequins, and a couch. Past the closet is a massive bathroom with a walk-in shower and a big tub for luxurious baths. You’re not prepared to live in a place like this when all you’ve ever known were one-story houses where you had to share a bathroom with three other people.

“There is a live-in chef and maid on site at all times who can help you with whatever you need.”

“Wow, this is kind of overwhelming if I’m being honest.”

That’s the same thing Annabeth said when he first brought her here centuries ago.

“This is overwhelming if I’m being honest,” Annabeth says and touches the satin sheets on the bed.

“I know.”

“I’m not used to such luxury.” She comes from a very poor family who makes enough money to scrape by. “I’ve never known this life.”

“Would you like to stay somewhere else? I have many houses to choose from.”

“I’m sure they’re all the same. You’ve been alive for thousands of years. You must be the wealthiest man in the world.”

“I guess,” Dean shrugs.

“Where are you staying?”

“Down the hall.”

“You don’t want to sleep next to me?”

Dean closes the distance between them and cups her jaw gently.

“Sweetheart, I’m afraid that if I do, I won’t be able to hold myself back from you.”

“What if I don’t want you to?” she asks and steps closer to him.

“Annabeth,” Dean whispers and closes his eyes.

“Kiss me.”

Dean can’t resist and kisses her hungrily.

“I make minimum wage at a bar with tips that are trash and you’re sitting on millions if not billions of dollars in a house too big for even ten people. Can I be a vampire?” you joke.

“No.”

“Where is your room?”

“Down the hall.”

“Don’t you ever get lonely living here by yourself?”

“I have the chef and maid.”

“Right, because I’m sure they’re your BFFs.”

Dean sighs and puts more distance between you two.

“Look, there are only two rules I keep here. Bedtime is at nine every night. You don’t have to go to sleep but you do need to be in your bedroom at that time. Second, never go in the basement.”

“Why? What’s in there?”

“Nothing of importance to you.”

“Why nine?”

“Because I said so.” You roll your eyes and Dean would love nothing more than to give you a reason to roll your eyes. “I have somewhere I need to be but make yourself at home. I have a gym, plenty of game rooms, movie theater… explore.”

Dean leaves your new room and you’re left alone with your thoughts. You walk to the window that overlooks the front of the house and see Dean pull out of the garage in one of his many cars. You could break his number two rule but you have a feeling that he’d be able to smell you down there. It wouldn’t do you any good to piss him off the first day you’re here.

You stow away your curiosity for now and leave your room in search of his. A bedroom can tell a lot about a person, and Dean’s is just as mysterious as him. His room is bare with minimal-looking furniture. His room is dark because of his black walls and grey aesthetic. His curtains are open to let in natural light but it’s not as bright as it should be.

You walk into his closet which is equally as dark with black suits, shirts, and pants with the occasional white and grey shirt. You brush your fingers over the fabrics in thought. You leave his closet and scan the room for any kind of personal effects he might have. There are no pictures of him, his family, or people he’s loved over the years. He shows up on film and he has a reflection, so where are his pictures?

If you were thousands of years old, you’d have a big house full of pictures from over the years. You’d be a living historical document. He’s the complete opposite unless all of his pictures are in the basement. Maybe his whole life is and he doesn’t want someone snooping through it. Maybe that’s why you were attracted to him from the beginning. You should have run for the hills once you found out what he was but you stayed. 

You have a thing for the mysterious guys.

Your sister, Amber, is only an hour away from you but she needs to learn a lesson about what can happen if she continues down this path. You’ll give her a week and maybe she might want to change her life for the better. Your phone rings and you jump at the sudden noise. You haven’t talked to your parents since you left them for Amber, so you reluctantly answer your mother’s call.

“Hey, mom.”

“Where are you? Have you arrived in Boston?”

“I’m in Rhode Island right now. I got held up.”

You don’t tell your parents you encountered Dean or the fact that he’s a vampire. If they heard this, they would surely drive down just to stake him themselves.

It didn’t matter where in the United States a person lived, everyone had heard of the vampire rumors. Any time they are brought up in conversation, your parents would shut that shit down immediately. They’d always say they’re not real but then come back and say they’re too dangerous. They’d tell anyone with fang scars on their necks that they’re fake and they’re doing this for attention. 

It’s the precise reason why you’re not telling them about Dean.

“Y/N…”

“Don’t worry. I’m staying with a friend right now.”

“A friend? What friend? You don’t have any friends.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you roll your eyes. “He’s an online friend I met. Everything is okay.”

“Listen, you should come home. Amber chose this life. She knew what she was getting into when she chose drugs and alcohol. You know all she’s going to cause you is trouble.”

“Amber is a lot of things, but she’s still my sister. She’s still your daughter. She’s not a bad person.”

“Yes, she is,” your dad’s voice comes from the other line. He might be in the room but he’s not close enough to the phone to hear clearly. “If you even think about bailing her out, then you might be just as bad as she is.”

This pisses you off.

“I’ll be home soon. Bye.”

You hang up the phone without waiting for their response. Amber isn’t the best person but she doesn’t deserve to be treated this way. She needs help and her own parents gave up on her. Not you. You’re not going to do this to her. What if you were in her in her shoes? Would you want her to come after you?

Dean was right about one thing, this place is massive with many things to do. If he’s been alive for centuries, it makes sense that he would have such a big house with lots of entertainment. A movie theater, three game rooms, a gym, a bowling alley, a pool room, a spa, a huge library, a volleyball and tennis court, and much more. This place would make anyone want to stay here forever. If you had all the money in the world, you’d do something like this.

After exploring what you can, you end up in the kitchen with a delicious-looking meal in front of you. The chef is cleaning up the dishes when Dean enters. You’re pushing your food around on the plate with your fork since you’re not really hungry. Sure Dean has given you everything you could ever hope for, you don’t want to live in this house alone.

“Where have you been?” you ask.

“Out.”

“Are you going to tell me anything about you?” you sigh.

“No.” Dean grabs a beer from the fridge before turning to you. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“Not hungry.”

Dean chuckles and sits next to you at the massive table.

“This isn’t how this arrangement is going to go. You keep yourself healthy and I drink your blood. If you don’t eat, you won’t be healthy. Then, I’m going to force you to eat, and trust me, you don’t want that.”

The giddiness from agreeing to this fancy lifestyle has worn out. The excitement had dwindled to nothing. You’re not sure you want to do this anymore.

“Maybe I want out.”

“Not going to happen,” Dean shakes his head. “Eat or I’ll feed you myself.” You take a single bite of food in hopes that will please him but he doesn’t get up. “Finish the rest.”

You do but you’re not sure if it’s because you’re scared of him or if you’re actually hungry. Dean sits there and waits until you’ve eaten everything. The chef takes away your dishes to clean when Dean grabs the bottom of your chair to pull you closer to him.

“My turn.”

He grabs your face and tilts it to the left to reveal the side of your neck, and his fangs slide out smoothly. He leans in and sinks his fangs into the side of your neck. You gasp thinking it’s going to hurt but you only feel a small pinch. Whatever pain you think you’re going to have isn’t powerful because the feeling you get from him sucking your blood is much more pleasurable.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as euphoria flows through your entire body. Dean moans when he gets a taste of your blood but fights off the urge to drain you dry. He needs to pace himself or you won’t last long. The time between you and Annabeth is centuries, and if he is going to make you last eighty to a hundred years, then he can’t take too much. He only takes two pints but that’s enough to make you woozy.

He leans back in his chair when he’s taken enough and lets the power in your blood consume him from the inside. He’s been chasing this high since Annabeth and he’s elated to have found it again. When he comes down from his high, he gets up and grabs some paper towels to clean your wound.

He scoops you up bridal style to take you to bed. He thinks back to Annabeth and how different things were back then. He’s going to do a lot of things differently so the same thing won’t happen as it did back then. He’s not going to let you manipulate him like she did. He’s not going to fall for you like he did with her.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[halfamask]

Adding on to my earlier post, how good the original yugioh cast would be at driving a car:

Yugi: 2/10. I’m sorry. The boy is 5 foot max. He needs a cushion to see over the windshield and slightly struggles to reach the break. He’s so so so good at the theoretical stuff and he always knows who has right of way and what all the signs mean. But he makes everyone nervous when he pulls that seat all the way up and is white knuckled with his tight grip on the wheel, stressed until he parks again.

Joey: 5.5/10. Solid driver, grew up with a beat old Camry with a tough steering wheel and can drive pretty much anything. Will go with you to the mechanic so you don’t get scammed. Absolutely drives at least 10 over the speed limit and is only urged on by his driving playlist full of super fast songs. King of the California stop.

Tristan: 8/10. Good driver. Passed his test on the first try, always comes to a complete stop. Needs the seat out almost all the way. Pleasant radio music and windows open, can have a conversation with you when he drives. But will get stressed in heavy traffic and mostly likely will snap at you. You probably have to ask him for permission to eat in his car.

Tea: 7/10. Also a solid driver, always stays within the speed limit and doesn’t get stressed too easily. The only exception is rich assholes in fancy cars who weave in and out of lanes really quick; she WILL race them in her 8 year old Honda thats due for maintenance soon while cussing them out the whole time, not caring who’s in the car with her. Can drive well but ideally is playing passenger to Tristan. She and Joey trade off the front seat and Yugi’s forever in the back.

Seto: -2/10. The rich asshole in a blue eyes white Tesla, weaving in and out of lanes and laughing as the plebs try to keep up. Mokuba is nauseous but egging him on. He treats all speed limits and most stoplights and yield and stop signs as vague suggestions at the very best and parks in fire lanes because the fine is pocket change to him. No food in his car. Only Mokuba is allowed to sit in the passenger seat and others are lucky if he lets them sit in the back. Every time he drives somewhere he expects valet parking because finding a spot is too mundane for him (again, he will just otherwise leave the car wherever even if it’s a fire lane). No one has better job security that his chauffeur because Mokuba pays to make sure Seto only drives rarely.

Mokuba: can’t drive yet, never wants to learn because he has a chauffeur, plus his only role model for driving who’s not a professional driver is Seto, so he’s kind of scared of it.

Bonus! Atem: 3/10. Better (and taller) than Yugi because he has a calmer and more authoritative presence that makes people feel like he knows what he’s doing, but only knows the rules of the road because Yugi drilled them into him. He’s a pharaoh, both the modern technology and being his own charioteer are fundamentally incompatible with his being and he always feels like something is wrong when he drives.

[remembertheplunge]

Bird, Blood, 2nd chance

Sacred Selfish p 151

“Author George Sand says that “writing a journal implies that one has ceased to think of the future and decided to live wholly in the present. It’s an annoucement to fate that you expect nothing more.”

The following is an entry from my journal dated 10/26/2015 Monday 2:25pm  Preservation Coffee House

Bird

Blood

2nd Chance

“You did a good job on that case” Del B. A fellow defense attorney, I just ran into him here at Preservation. He was talking about Matt W., one of my clients. His case was on earlier today in Dept 1. It was a probation violation hearing in which, if found true, Matt could receive 5 years in prison. The DA and I made our arguments and the court took a break to decide on prison or local time..

I went outside of the court house and sat on a bench. A man was seated on the bench across from me. He had a shoe box which contained a bird with an injured leg. 

Here’s how I tell the story of what happened next in the journal:

“A man asked me to hold down a pigeon while he taped its injured leg. Just prior to that, he told me that he  encountered a man he knew at a car wash. The man staggered toward him, unable to speak. His jaw was gashed open and blood was flowing. No one would help him. The man got a towel for the injured man.. The Ambulance guys, upon opening the injured man’s shirt said “oh my God” There were multiple small stab wounds on the chest. The injured  man later died."

So, I was awaiting the Matt W. “Verdict”. The man was dealing from the “blood on your hands” incident at the car wash. I held down the bird while the man taped it's leg. In so doing, the bird healed us."

When I returned to Dept 1 after the break, the court ruled that the 5 years prison would be suspended. Matt W. Would do 180 days. Since he had been in jail for sometime, his release date would be November 2nd, a few days from then. Matt W. shook my hand. He got a 2nd chance.

End of entry

Note 1/18/2025

I still think about the man, the injured bird and Matt W at times when I pass those two cement benches we sat on that day by the court house in Modesto, California.

[afewproblems]

Difficult Days - Part Six

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five or Read on AO3

The next few years are a blur of odd jobs, of relationships --though to call a string of one night stands and dates that go nowhere would certainly be an exaggeration, and of living situations ranging from dilapidated apartments, a car for several weeks, of crowded hostels, and one memorable night in the guest house of a mansion that, coincidentally, had an incredibly flimsy lock on the door.

The times where Shawn is able to afford something stable and long term are so few and far between that he can count them on one hand. 

But when things do get difficult, and even when he doesn’t have a proper kettle or teapot, Shawn stops and finds a moment to make himself a mug of tea and is brought right back to the Guster’s kitchen on that late summer day. Even if the tea is luke warm and barely steeped from the low watt microwave in his tiny apartment, or he spills half of it trying to pour the hot water out of a soup pot into a tiny cracked mug, Mrs. Guster is right about the way it seems to stop everything from crashing down around him. 

He sends the Gusters postcards when he can afford it and tries not to think about everything he's missing right now in Santa Barbara.

He's older now, a little more confident and experienced with the world, and no less in practice with his observation skills.

How else would he have caught his one boss at the tennis pro shop in Connecticut embezzling funds, or the Gorilla Keeper's affair during his time at the North Carolina Zoo? 

Which was all the more reason to never really linger anywhere for too long, after all Scott Bacula never stayed longer than an episode when he saved the day or the time stream or whatever it was that guy had been up to.

Even when he does find himself in California he never travels further than San Diego, cognizant of the fact that there is a chance he could run into Henry, but he always manages to let Gus know he's ‘in town. 

It takes Shawn eight years to finally come home, coincidentally around the same time that Shawn hears Henry has moved away from Santa Barbara, and when he does finally pull into the familiar city, he finds nothing’s really changed all that much. 

The beach is still full of tourists, traffic is still a nightmare pretty much from sun up to sun down, even on his bike, and the Santa Barbara PD is still full of idiots. 

And Shawn’s ability to notice damn near everything, even the most minor observations, never really disappears nor does the urge to use it, to prove he knows better than the cops his dad had sung the praises of his entire life. 

He gets away with it, calling the tip line, for about two years before his luck finally runs out. Which is how, on a sunny summer afternoon, Shawn finds himself sitting behind the one way glass of the SBPD. 

Yet again. 

“Boy, Dijonaise sure is weird huh? You ever felt that?” Shawn asks the blonde cop that opens the door to the interrogation room, the sudden draft of fresh air as she stops in the door way is a welcome change, maybe the SBPD turn the AC off in the summer as a Interrogation technique. 

The cop, probably a detective actually based on the badge in her pocket and the cuffs on her belt, narrows her blue eyes and tilts her head slightly, staring intently at Shawn. 

“Excuse me?” she says in a bemused, if firm tone.

Shawn grins from his seat at the table, “you know, when you feel like you've done this before?”

She covers a surprised grin with a cough and shakes her head slightly, “I think you mean Deja vu”.

Shawn shrugs, and leans back as casually as he can in his seat, “I've heard it both ways”. 

He's never been called into the Interrogation room after calling in a tip before.

Normally any reward money earned would sit with the desk sergeant to be picked up -which he had assumed would be the case again today.

This change of pace can't bode well.

“Well, based on your file here,” the Detective continues, “I would rule out Deja vu, since you have been here before Mr. Spencer--”

Before Shawn can respond the door to the interrogation room opens again and out steps the rookie.

Lassiter, Lassie, old Lassifrass if Shawn's memory is accurate --which it always is.

He's older now, thankfully rid of the hideous mustache that did nothing for the man's face --now a beard, a beard would look pretty good on the guy with those intense blue eyes of his and those haven't changed a bit. 

He's no longer in uniform, instead dressed in a drab grey suit that was clearly purchased off the rack. Based on the shiny badge on his belt the rookie finally got his shield, which wasn't surprising given the level of intensity the man exuded even ten years ago.

The Detective's piercing gaze travels up and down Shawn before jumping to his partner. In one long stride he's beside the other Detective, leveling another glare at Shawn before looking back at his partner.  

His blue eyes linger on her for a brief moment and the barest of smiles tilts the otherwise stern expression. In the two way mirror, Shawn watches as Lassiters hand lifts to brush through the very ends of his partner's ponytail before dropping to his side.  

Huh.

Interesting…it seems that ol’ Lassie is not as straight laced as he appears, an office romance? 

Very interesting.

Shawn grins at the Detective, raising his hand and waving with his fingers, “Lassie, my goodness you're still here!”

“Do I know you?” Lassiter growls, his voice deeper than before, perhaps an intimidation tactic, “I don't make it a habit of knowing criminals”. 

“Well that's a bit extreme,” Shawn huffs, starting to feel a little uneasy now,  just what the hell is on the file? He wracks his brain trying to see exactly how these two managed to jump to this conclusion.

“I'm really just here for my check, if you think my rates are criminal take it up with your billing department--”

“Your rates,” Lassiter spits incredulously, exchanging a look with his partner, “just how dumb do you think we are?”

Shawn's patience is beginning to wane at the snarl and proximity of Lassiter and the way Detective Berry --the name shines brightly on the silver name tag on the lapel of her equally drab suit jacket, keeps flipping through the many unidentifiable papers in his file with a neutral expression. 

Shawn grins sharply, “do you want an honest answer?”

Lassiters eye twitches and Detective Berry moves slightly in between him and Shawn at the sight. 

All this nonsense, it has to be for a reason, probably the tips he’s been calling in, but that doesn't quite track either.

“Fine,” Shawn breathes out, breaking the staring contest with Lassiter and placing his hands on the table, “why am I here?”

“Where were you on June 27th, July 15th, and August 24th?” Detective Berry asks, closing the file with a flourish that has Shawn rolling his eyes. 

“At home,” Shawn says simply, ignoring the way Lassiter scoffs.

“Is there anyone who can verify that?” Detective Berry asks with a small furrow between her eyes.

“I don't like to kiss and tell Detective--”

“That's a no,” Lassiter cuts him off abruptly, he steps into the other Detectives space briefly to take the file from her hands and opens it again, “you called in a tip about the robbery on the 24th”.

Shawn raises an eyebrow and looks between the two Detectives expectantly.

“Implicating the owner in the robbery,” Lassiter continues in a leading tone.

“Was I wrong?” Shawn says slowly, maybe his hunch was off and they were going for ‘Teach him a lesson about wasting police resources’.

“No Mr. Spencer, you're the accomplice,” Lassiter barks out triumphantly as he leans over the table now, even further in Shawn's space.

“What?” Shawn laughs incredulously, but Berry and Lassiter share twin smirks with one another, a secret ‘Gotcha’ that makes Shawn want to bang his head on the table. 

Can they really be this stupid, this desperate to pin this on someone?

Lassiter continues, seemingly in full monologue mode now, “obviously your little enterprise went south so you sold your partner down the river”.

The answer is yes, they are that desperate.

“Hold on,” Shawn starts, waving his hand out in front of him but Lassiter is undeterred.

“How else could you know it was the owner, there haven't been any details released to the press outside of the owners interview”.

“Yeah, exactly,” Shawn says with a shrug that has Lassiter turning a horrible shade of puce.

“What does that mean?” Detective Berry cuts in before Lassiter can well and truly lose it.

“I watched the news interview, he was guilty”.

Both Lassiter and Berry pause, looking at one another again before turning back to Shawn.

Lassiter shakes his head and scoffs, “you expect me to believe you can, what, read guilt off the news?”

“You can't?” Shawn says, grinning still, a single eyebrow raised in a challenge. 

Lassiter takes two swift steps closer to the table and slams a large hand down on the surface. Shawn flinches at the sound; good to see the man's short fuse has gotten even shorter over the years, great quality in a cop.

Detective Berry glances worriedly between her partner and Shawn and, for the first time since they barged into the room,  begins to look doubtful.

At least one of them isn't a total asshole.

“Keep it up, Spencer,” Lassiter says lowly, leaning forward over the table until their noses are nearly touching. It takes everything in Shawn not to rub his nose against Lassiters --just to piss him off.

“You think making a mockery of police work is going to do you any favours?”

Shawn rolls his eyes, “you seem to be doing a bang up job all by yourself Lassie-"

“Okay!” Detective Berry says sharply, pulling her partner out of Shawns face and towards the interrogation room door, “we're going to give you some time to think about your alibi Mr. Spencer, because if you can't come up with one or a good enough reason to explain just how you knew about the owner then we won't have a choice but to arrest you”. 

Detective Berry pushes Lassiter out the door and gives Shawn a pointed look that says, ‘don't do anything stupid’, and closes the door behind them, leaving Shawn in the room alone with his reflection in the mirrored wall. 

Yeah, nothing’s changed that’s for sure. 

***

This time Shawn really can't believe his luck.

Now, even he would admit that the psychic story was a bit of a stretch but it was certainly better than jail, and hell, he had even managed to weasel a job out of the whole sordid affair.

After the McCallum arrest and a sweet little write up in the Santa Barbara Chronicle, it feels like everything is falling into place, coming up Milhouse even -just without the ugly short pants.

Not only does he get to consistently rub his skills in Lassie's face, horse around with Gus like old times, harmlessly flirt with all of his new coworkers -including Lassiter’s new partner, Juliet, but this new consulting gig actually allows him to afford a place to stay in Santa Barbara.

On top of that, he and Gus officially have an office now, a central hub to actually invite their own clients independent from SBPD. 

Psych is officially open and business is good.

It's as though Santa Barbera has been waiting for a ‘psychic’ to come along, Shawn's found a niche to flourish in and all he has to do is lie to the people beginning to push their way into something resembling friends. 

Well, maybe not exactly friends, but the potential is there.

And it’s fine, really. 

It's just a small lie.

Honestly, how different is it really considering the fact that the things he sees and notices are missed by everyone else. Why shouldn't he say it came to him in a vision? It’s more believable than the eidetic memory stuff so what’s the harm? 

So what if he isn't really psychic.

It's fine.

Well, it is until Henry shows up.

Tag List: @adaed5 @drakkywolf @newgrangespirals @riverofrainbows @steddierthings @eriquin

Part Seven

[writer-room]

I love your charbee fic, can we hear any headcanons from it?

why of course! always love doing these, because sometimes theres some ideas you have about the world you've made, and nowhere in the story can you actually Mention these things

While Bumblebee's voice box managed to get fixed, his voice actually doesn't sound the same as it used to--they had to scavenge a voice box off another fallen Cybertronian of similar model, which was NOT easy to find. Bumblebee's a one-of-a-kind model made specifically during early wartimes, as far as they know he's the last of his exact model to have survived. If he fucks up this new voice, he's probably never getting another. The thought keeps him up

The fake license plate Bee had when he was hiding out with Charlie read "GLDGIRL" . Charlie assumed this was a reference to Golden Girls but his big dumbass was thinking about his girl from the golden state

Charlie didn't actually realize Bee got a new voice box until a little bit before he went into hiding. She tried not to watch the news much after Bee left considering all the fighting did nothing but wind her up. Memo just never caught on about the voice thing since he only checked in on the news if any important changes to the war were happening, so HE was the one to realize "holy shit Bee can talk now" and immediately called Charlie. She went back through all the online recordings of Bee talking afterwards and put that shit on REPEAT. It still felt weird when he came back and talked to her. With a moving mouth. She stared a lot

Bee was sent on a lot of smaller scouting missions while he was in hiding (bc he'd go insane otherwise), but most of them were ones where he could dictate what he would do based on where he was on the map. It was eventually caught on that he seemed to be spending ALL of his time in southern California, and Optimus didn't have to be a genius to figure out why he was there. He felt bad about sending Bee off, but it was for safety precautions. Arcee figured out like 2 years in tho and decided to help cover for him lol

Charlie SPOILED Bee in California. He's still rough-and-tumble, but his whole "no powdered donuts or drinks on the nice seats" is very much a product of Charlie keeping him in top condition and boasting to all the car fanatics about her sweet ride. He's a prettyboy and he acts like his stubbornness over it is a joke, but Charlie has SEEN how he reacts when other people are in the passenger seat, She Knows. Charlie is, of course, the only exception to the 'dirtying the interior' rule

[kevin33james-blog]

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[typicalopposite]

Ok so I was tagged quite a few times for this — thank all you lovelies so so much @bangpop91 @nine-one-wanton @judymarch15 @xtarmanderx @quintessenceofdust88 🫶— and now have quite a few words 🫣

Rules! Share one sentence or excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word!

Five words — WIPS I’m using will be Amnesia Fic (Take Me Back) and Racing Fic (Victory Lane)! They have the most written that hasn’t been shared yet!

@bangpop91 gave me - GHOST - WIP is Racing Fic

G - “Go on then,” she continues, shoving his arm. “We have places to do, and things to be!” That gets her a genuine laugh from Evan, and Tommy is thankful at least this part of the trip is enjoyable.

H - His Aunt Cassie; whom he hasn’t spoken to since Christmas— when she called to fill him in on the current drama going on in their families personal lives. She is the only family member he even still speaks to. The latest dose of gossip was that his dad had been diagnosed with stage four lung cancer– nearly fifty years of smoking non filtered cigarettes will do that to you.

O - “Oh honestly, Ellie! What are you afraid he’ll find? Money hidden in the walls?” Aunt Cassie laughs at herself. “Any money Tom had went into alcohol, and Camels…” She pushes her seat back before Aunt Elise, or any of the other siblings can speak, tugging at Tommy’s arm as she gets up. “So I suggest you leave us a key hidden, or if it’s really that big of a deal be there around say… five o clock.”

S - Sure enough it’s still where he left it, under a tattered dusty old tarp. He grabs a handful and swiftly pulls it off, revealing the wrecked remains of his race car— a long since forgotten (more like repressed…) memory; a piece of his past that holds perhaps the most joy, but also the most pain…

T - Tommy turns around to look where Evan’s now pointing. His dads work bench, covered in junk and trash and boxes, and on one of the shelves… next to some empty beer bottle and a can filled with screws is a framed 8x10 of Tommy, a trophy held in front of him and a big smile missing his two front teeth. The words Victory Lane written on a banner behind him— his very first race and very first win. “Yeah… that was me.”

@nine-one-wanton gave me - CHAIR - WIP is Amnesia Fic

C - “Cheesy, I know… but it was sort of thrown together last minute, so…”

Tommy feels the sting of tears in his eyes, regardless. “I appreciate it, Howie… really.”

H - He crosses his arms, tucking his hands, and squints at Tommy, so confused. “It’s just— You really don’t remember any of it?”

Tommy stiffens his jaw and forces a smile. “I really don’t…” he says with a slight shake of his head. Howie’s confusion melts away and he looks so sorry.

A - “A weekend at a ski resort up in Northern California.” He laughs harder when Tommy’s jaw nearly falls onto the counter. “Yeah I figured you and Buck could use a getaway… I had booked it for me Maddie and Jee but with the pregnancy—”

“Pregnancy?!”

“Jesus Christ,” Howie covers his face and groans. “I am so sorry, man! This is—”

“Confusing?” Tommy can’t help but laugh.

I - “I’m so happy for you,” Tommy says, patting Howie on the shoulder. They fall back into an awkward silence and Tommy has to make it worse by asking if Evan still went to the resort.

Howie’s demeanor shifts. He quietly slides his phone back into his pocket and nods. “Yeah. He— he did. I told him to take Eddie… or, hell anyone. But he insisted on going alone, and well…” He shifts uncomfortably, avoiding Tommy’s eyes. “That’s how he met Dylan…”

R - Regardless of the new blanks it created.

@judymarch15 gave me - BOOBS 💀- WIP is Racing Fic

B - Back when Thomas Sr.’s only fault was he worked too many overtime hours and didn’t get home until the early morning hours of Christmas morning.

O - “Oh and I have been waiting a hot minute to meet you!” Evan smiles bashfully, quick to also lean in for a hug. She rubs her hand over Evan’s back and then lets him go, taking one of both of their hands.

O - Once she was gone she took all the happiness held desperately within the walls with her— or, well, almost all of it. For a while… Tommy still had one thing. But eventually he lost that, too.

B - But he searched the stands anyway.

He saw Aunt Cassie…

Tyler wasn’t even there.

He tried to not care. He told himself he would impress this sponsor, get his foot in the door to a big time racing career…

S - Seven years. He gave the army seven years of his life. He traded his racing license for a pilots license and found a love in the air that mimicked the love he had out on a racetrack. He owed them three more years before he could get out; but a rescue mission that ended with the factory his platoon was searching exploding, sent him home early.

@xtarmanderx game me - OCEAN - WIP is Amnesia Fic

O - Over by the helicopter he sees Lucy watching him, and uses it as an excuse to make his departure without looking like he is running away.

C - “Can I help you?” he asks, raising a brow towards Eddie and Howie. They look at each other then back at Tommy, both wearing faces just smug enough it’s clear they think they know something important.

E - Eddie’s eyes soften. He looks up to Howie and sighs. For a moment Tommy thinks they are going to say something bad about the guy– it’s selfish and wrong… but he kind of is hoping for it. “He’s great, actually…” Howie finally says. “He’s no you… but I doubt Buck will ever find someone that will treat him the way that you did.” Tommy flinches at that, regardless of knowing what Howie meant. “Shit– No… that’s not what I–”

A - “Are you baking something?” Tommy asks, pushing down the smile wanting to surface at the image of Evan in his apron, covered in flour (preferably without a certain significant other clinging to him).

N - “Not that I mind talking to you, of course,” he adds because, well it’s the truth.

“Oh, r- right. Um… Well Chim was trying to get a head count for Thursday and well you— you haven’t…” he trails off again, then hisses in pain and Tommy is already halfway across his living room towards his keys. “S- Sorry,” Evan manages through a clearly clenched jaw. “It’s just my shoulder… it— it’s bothering me...”

“The one you hurt the other day?”

He hears Evan laugh. “Yeah, the— the cursed one… It’s fine.”

“Evan…”

“I’m fine…”

@quintessenceofdust88 gave me - BLUE (which will be Red because I already used Blue 😂) - WIP is Racing Fic

B - “Best decision I’ve ever made,” he says softly.

Tears prickle at the corners of Buck’s eyes and he leans in for another kiss. In hindsight, he can be upset at the chain of events that drove Tommy out of his hometown, but he can’t be too upset they drove him all the way out to LA; to him.

L - “Lightning McJee, the protégé of the great Tommy Thunder!” Chimney quips and Buck has to bite his lips to not make a noise at that. He peeks up to see if Tommy is glaring at him… and he is. He blows him a kiss and flips the hamburgers.

U - “Uh…” He looks innocently at Tommy and bats his eyes. “Would you believe me if I said it’s about taxes?” Tommy’s hooded eyes give him his answer, and he laughs nervously. “Well… what if I say it’s a surprise… so you just have to wait and see.”

E - “Evan!” Tommy calls from the living room. Buck is busying himself baking the last of a batch of cookies, and stirring some box-made dirty rice– he is disgusted with himself for it, but he did not have time to perfect a homemade recipe…

Sweet baby Jesus! That was a lot!

Tagging: @30somethingautisticteacher @sunnywithachanceofbi @herrmannhalsteadproduction @mmso-notlikethat @rosyhoneydew

@somethingaboutfirefly @silversky9 @littlepaws9 @hyperfocusthusly @beanarie

@kinardsevan @cafe-con-letty @leashybebes @piratefalls @onthewaytosomewhere

Your word: IMPULSIVE 🫶 like our fave lil buddy!

[vee-crytraps]

Good Luck, Babe! | CH 1-1 | Ice Cream for Breakfast

{Trigger Warning/Themes Masterlist} This is split into a billion parts because it's long as hell! Read on Ao3 to avoid the headache!

It isn’t unusual to be up before everyone else in the house. To say that the people in your adoptive family were night owls is a total understatement. Most mornings, Wayne Manor was full of the haunting sort of quiet you would expect in any normal residence during dead of night. Only a handful of years ago, you couldn’t stand the eerie halls of the East wing before ten am. The tall windows leaking pale light onto the antique dark wood, the ornate, unblinking portraits that loomed over you with eyes that seemed to follow. Total daylight horror vibes. You still felt like that sometimes. Especially as you grew older, and nearly everyone else moved out.

Dick was out in California with his West coast lollipop brigade before he settled in Blüdhaven. Jason, you had barely gotten to know before he died, and upon his resurrection (and subsequent rehabilitation), he moved out and never looked back. Tim was…Tim. Overworked, overtired. He’d moved out before he was even legally an adult- but he basically a CEO at that point anyway. It only made sense that he carve out a little something for himself in the world, especially when Damian came along and assumed the Robin mantle. And then there was Damian- the only current permanent resident aside from yourself, Bruce and Alfred. You wouldn’t say that you were friends exactly, but you had certainly developed an understanding in the quiet moments you ended up spending together. So yeah, most of your older brothers were onto greener pastures. As much as it sucked to see such a large house so empty, you knew better than to whine about it. It had been a long time since your brief stint as Robin when you were about eight years old, but even then you could register that the vibe in the bat cave was…tense, to say the very least. You had felt it in the manor, too- the anger and sadness swirling around your family of vigilantes. And Bruce, your godfather, Batman- at the very center of it all. There was a saying in the city- that if you ever saw Batman, trouble wasn’t far behind. He was Gotham’s own Mothman, bringing omens of collapsing bridges, bizarre hostage situations and stuck up banks. Still, chasing Batman made for cool stories and dynamic photos, with only a minor threat of personal harm on a good day. Despite the good sense of the Batman Rule, Gotham city residents leaked into the streets for a peak of the curling cape and badass rocket car. If you saw the bat family, however, you were well and truly fucked. These days, your family only really got together on cataclysmic occasions, the stuff one step down from the bone chilling, universe ending Justice League shit. Well, that. And your birthday. It was why you seized every opportunity to take advantage of the situation, seated in the large dining hall with a plan in place. Pressing the tips of your fingers together in a super-villain worthy steeple, you rest your elbows on the ancient oak of the dining table. You were at the far end- the very head, in a chair that was usually reserved for Bruce. “You wouldn’t want to set a bad example by reneging on your promise to me, now would you?” A mischievous smirk curled on your lips as you released your hands from their position, to point to the paper birthday crown you’d fashioned for yourself in the early morning. “For my first decree,” you started, offering a dramatic wave. You gestured to the table, littered with spoons, bowls, and most notable- several pint sized containers of ice cream. Smaller silver dishes housed sprinkles, cherries, crushed candies and other fixings. “Ice cream for breakfast.” Part 2

[bookloover35]

Sam and Dean little sister reader/ The sushi experiment.

Summary: Life as a hunter doesn't leave much room for simple pleasures. But when you, Sam and Dean's little sister and fellow hunter, manage to drag your brothers away from the life for a single evening, you set your sights on a new goal: convincing the two stubborn Winchesters to try sushi for the first time.

The Impala's engine roared to life as Dean sped down the highway, classic rock blaring through the speakers. You leaned back in the backseat, arms crossed, trying to hide your smirk. The mission was simple: drag your brothers away from hunting just for one night and get them to try sushi.

Dean didn't know it yet, but that part was going to be your toughest hunt of the week.

"Alright, Y/N," Dean called from the driver's seat, his eyes still fixed on the road. "You've been all hush-hush about this surprise dinner. Where are we going?"

"You'll see," you replied cryptically, shooting Sam a conspiratorial grin. He knew what was up and was already on your side — getting Dean on board was the challenge.

"You're not taking us to one of those kale salad joints again, are you?" Dean grumbled. "I'm not eating anything green unless it's covered in grease."

You rolled your eyes. "Relax, Dean. It's not kale. It's... better."

"Better how?" Sam chimed in, turning around to face you, a smile playing on his lips.

"Well," you began, "it's not exactly... cooked."

Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Whoa, hold up. Not cooked? What the hell kind of place are we going to?"

"You'll see," you sing-songed, refusing to give anything away.

You pulled up to a small, unassuming sushi restaurant tucked away in the corner of a strip mall. The neon "Open" sign flickered slightly, casting a dim light over the parking lot. The place looked cozy, with paper lanterns in the window and a handwritten sign in Japanese that you couldn't quite decipher.

Dean turned off the Impala and looked at you with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. "You've gotta be kidding me, Y/N. Sushi?"

"Yup," you said, hopping out of the car with a grin. "Trust me, it's good."

"Raw fish," Dean muttered under his breath as he followed you inside, Sam trailing behind with a smirk. "I've faced wendigos and vampires, but this? This is where I draw the line."

"Come on, Dean," Sam said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "If we can handle cursed objects and hellhounds, we can handle a little sushi."

Dean shot him a look. "Cursed objects, I get. They don't usually taste like fish guts."

Inside, the three of you slid into a booth, the smell of soy sauce and fresh fish filling the air. You couldn't help but feel a little proud of yourself. After days of tracking down a rogue demon and narrowly avoiding a banshee attack, you'd finally convinced your brothers to take one night off.

A waitress came over, and you took charge, ordering a variety of rolls — some simple ones for the guys to ease into, and a few more adventurous options that you knew you'd like. As the waitress walked away, Dean leaned back in the booth with a scowl.

"Seriously, Y/N," he groaned. "You've been living with us for how long, and you thought this would be a good idea? Burgers and beer — that's how you get us to relax."

"Yeah, but I thought you guys could use something different for once," you shot back. "Besides, you've always got to be ready for the unexpected. Isn't that the first rule of hunting?"

Dean grumbled, but you could see the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Sam just chuckled, shaking his head.

"Alright, alright," Sam said. "Let's see if you're right, Y/N."

The sushi arrived on a large wooden platter, the rolls arranged in a neat, colorful display. You reached for your chopsticks, demonstrating the technique. Sam, ever the quick learner, copied you and successfully picked up a California roll.

Dean, however, stared down at the platter like it was a nest of Leviathans. "Okay, what's this one?" he asked, jabbing a finger at a piece of sashimi.

"Salmon," you replied. "Just dip it in soy sauce, maybe a little wasabi."

He wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, that green stuff looks like something I scraped off Baby's undercarriage."

"It's spicy," you explained. "Like... really spicy."

Dean huffed. "Yeah, yeah, I've handled worse."

You watched with barely restrained laughter as Dean dunked the entire piece in soy sauce, slathered it with wasabi, and popped it into his mouth. The second the wasabi hit his tongue, his eyes widened. For a moment, you thought he was going to spit it out, but he chewed determinedly, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Oh my God, Dean," you burst out laughing. "You weren't supposed to use that much!"

He coughed, reaching for his water glass and downing it in one gulp. "Why didn't you warn me?" he gasped, voice hoarse.

"I literally did!" you giggled, slapping Sam's arm as he tried to hold back his own laughter. "You never listen."

Sam, now braver after watching Dean survive, tried a piece of tuna sashimi and nodded approvingly. "You know, it's not bad," he admitted, looking pleasantly surprised.

You gave him a victorious smile. "See? Told you it's good."

Dean reluctantly picked up another roll, this time a cucumber one. "If I get food poisoning from this, I'm blaming you, Y/N."

"Oh, please," you scoffed. "You've eaten gas station hot dogs that have been sitting under heat lamps for hours. You'll be fine."

As the night went on, you were pleasantly surprised to see Dean actually enjoying some of the simpler rolls. Sam, of course, was already branching out into more adventurous options. The laughter flowed easily as you traded stories of past hunts, the sushi acting as the perfect excuse to unwind.

By the end of the night, Dean leaned back in the booth, patting his stomach. "Alright, I'll admit it," he said with a reluctant grin. "It wasn't as bad as I thought. But next time, kiddo, we're sticking with burgers."

You smiled, savoring the rare moment of normalcy with your brothers. "Deal. But now that I know you like sushi, you can't escape it."

Dean rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "Yeah, yeah. But if you try to get me to eat anything with tentacles, all bets are off."

"Fair enough," you agreed, raising your glass of water for a toast.

Sam and Dean clinked their glasses against yours, and for once, the weight of the world seemed far away. Tonight, it was just you and your brothers, sharing a meal and a few laughs — a rare moment of peace in a life full of monsters and mayhem.

And honestly, you wouldn't trade it for anything.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

A War of the Heart - Chapter Two | Luke Alvez x Fem! Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - things quickly come to a head between you and Luke when he forces you to talk about the past.

Category - heavy angst | smut | eventual happy ending

A/N - I watched this episode (1202 Sick Day) while I was writing this fic and I still can’t remember if Hotch was actually in it or not. So for the sake of this we will assume he was.

Content Warnings - slight argument?, swearing, build up to smut, shower sex, slightly dominant Luke, making out, mentions of masturbation, some Spencer x Reader, penetrative sex, use of “good girl”.

WC - 3.6k

Chapter Two

Present - Los Angeles, California

Hotch made a rule of not pairing you and Spencer up on cases, for obvious reasons. Most of the time you found yourself paired with Tara as the two of you worked great together. But since you and Luke had history he thought you were the best fit for him to be partnered with on this case, much to your chagrin. Of course you couldn’t make a fuss about it so silently you climbed into the passenger seat of the car while Luke got in the driver's side and the two of you headed for the crime scene. 

For the better part of the journey the two of you remained silent but you knew it was only a matter of time before you needed to speak. There had been a lot of things left unsaid between the two of you and the sooner you got it out the less awkward the whole situation would be. But where would you even begin? Your mind was racing over so many things you couldn’t pick a starting point so instead you just stayed silent and stewed on them, much like you’d been doing for the last thirteen years. Eventually, it was Luke who finally broke the silence. 

“So you and Reid, huh?” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye as he drove. 

“What was that?” You frowned at him. 

“What was what?” 

“The tone.” You pulled a face, turning a little in your chair. 

“What tone?” Luke frowned now as he took a left turn. 

“So you and Reid, huh?” You deepened your voice, doing your best Luke Alvez impersonation which made him scoff. 

“Was that supposed to sound like me?” 

“I think it was pretty accurate. There was definitely some judgement in your tone.” 

“No judgement.” Luke shook his head. 

“But…” 

You saw Luke pull a face and roll his eyes, his grip tightening a little on the wheel 

“But…he doesn’t seem like your type.” He shrugged. 

“You don’t exactly have a well rounded knowledge of my type, Alvez.” It was hard to force yourself not to call him Sarg. You’d barely ever used his name back then. 

He’d once told you hearing you call him Sarg was a massive turn on and you used it to your advantage. It drove him wild hearing that from your lips so there was no way you’d slip up and use it now. 

“True. But I’m just surprised is all.” 

“Admittedly I do usually have a habit of going for pretty but dumb guys.” You shot him a look, a smirk tugging at your lips. 

“Ouch. That’s cold.” He put one hand to his chest but he laughed all the same. “So you’ve upgraded to pretty and a genius?”

“It would seem so.” You glanced out of the window at the LA traffic that was prolonging this conversation. 

You’d give anything for this to be over, to close your eyes and have it be this morning again and being introduced to your new team member and it not be Luke Alvez. Mostly because, and you would never admit this out loud even under torture, it was so unfair that age had caused Luke to grow impossibly more attractive. The occasional grey hair peppering his jet black locks and the small lines around his eyes and mouth made him look distinguished. His muscles seemed somehow more prominent and you’d be willing to bet he worked out just as much, if not more, than when you served together. He’d literally aged like a fine wine. And that was just so, so unfair. 

“Pretty, smart and I can only assume jealous?” He gave you a slightly amused look to which you frowned. “Oh come on, you were so quick to say we were friends. What did you think I was going to say by the way? Oh I was her boss but we were also lovers.” 

“Gross, don’t use that word.”  You scowled, prompting Luke to laugh. “Spencer can be…insecure I guess. I didn’t exactly make things easy on him, I lost count of how many times he asked me out before I finally said yes. I just didn’t think it would help matters for him to know about us.” 

“Right, so I have to just pretend that you and I don’t have a history so your boyfriend doesn’t feel insecure?” 

“Please.” 

After that the car grew silent again. You turned your attention out of the window and focused on the buildings you edged past in the slow moving traffic. The GPS display told you that you weren’t far from your destination, but how long you would sit in this jam was anyone’s guess.

It was almost fifteen minutes of silence as Luke plodded the car along and was finally able to put his foot down and drive more than five miles an hour. As the journey picked up, Luke shot you a look out of the corner of his eye, unable to contain his thoughts any longer.

“Why didn’t you call?” He mumbled, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear him. 

“Huh?” You turned back to him with a frown. 

“Last time I saw you, you said you’d call. You never did. And as you’ll recall I gave you my number but you didn’t give me yours.” 

“We had fun.” You shrugged, sighing a little. “But that was in Iraq. We weren’t going to make it in the real world. It was just…a deployment thing.” 

Luke frowned at you, a hint of hurt in his eyes which you tried to ignore. 

“A deployment thing?” He scoffed. “So telling me you loved me, was what? A lie? I don’t think you’re that good of an actress.” 

“No offence, Alvez,” you suddenly snapped just as Luke pulled the car to a stop at your destination. “But you knew me for all of nine months. You do not know me as well as you think you do. You were scratching an itch. I was lonely and touch starved and you were…you were…”

“I was what?” He shut off the engine and turned to you, anger pooling behind his eyes. 

“You were there.” You shrugged. “Let’s not pretend what happened between us was more than it was. It was just sex Alvez! Thirteen years ago! I’m with Spencer and he’s great. We have a shot at being the real deal. So you don’t get to show up here and rehash the past when that’s all it is. The past.” 

You went to turn away and reach for the door handle to get out of this car that had become stifling all of a sudden but before you could, a strong hand was on your shoulder, firmly pulling you back. 

Luke’s eyes were wild, looking at you like he’d only ever looked at you a handful of times before. A lump formed in your throat and you swallowed. 

“I’m not going to tell your precious boyfriend about us, ok? But don’t you dare sit there and tell me everything we had was a goddamn lie! I know you, Y/N, much better than you think I do. I’m sorry if my presence has thrown you but it’s thrown me too! How was I to know you worked for the BAU? You haven’t spoken to me in eight years! I’m happy for you and Reid, but I can’t just pretend you meant nothing to me and that seeing you again isn’t opening a lot of old wounds. So don’t fucking lie to me and tell me I meant nothing to you and make me feel like it was all in my head. Because it wasn’t. You don’t get to sully my memories.” 

You watched as he exited the car, throwing open his door and slamming it shut behind him, causing you to jump a little. You continued to just observe while he headed towards the crime scene tape and flashed his credentials at the beat cop manning the scene, not once turning back to you still sitting in the car. 

Maybe you hadn’t been fair to him. Maybe it was excessive for you to make out he’d meant nothing to you when in reality he’d meant everything to you. The term love of my life seemed too cliche but it was probably most apt to describe your feelings towards Luke. And what scared you most, was in seeing him again all of those feelings had come rushing to the surface like they’d been there the whole time. 

In truth, Luke Alvez was the only man you’d ever loved. And it was becoming clear he may be the only man you ever would love. 

***

2010 - Diyala, Northeast Baghdad 

“So what happens when you leave?” 

Another copter rattled the walls, this one louder than the last. Had to be a Bluebird, maybe even a Blackhawk. You couldn’t give it much thought though given your current situation. 

Luke had talked you into a second shower of the night although it hadn’t been all that difficult. Now as the two of you stood under the flow of water, Luke’s strong body was pressed up behind you, his hands running up and down your hips and his lips peppering kisses over your neck. 

“I don’t know.” You replied. You’d done nothing but think about what your reassignment would mean for the two of you but had yet to come up with any answers. 

“I love you.” He spoke against your wet skin, arms now snaking around your waist to pull you closer as his hardening cock pressed against your lower back. 

“I love you too.” You breathed. 

It wasn’t a sentiment the two of you shared often, so you knew he must be really worried about your reassignment to say it now. The first time Luke had confessed his feelings to you had been during sex, right before he’d come he’d mumbled those three words against your lips. Afterwards neither of you mentioned it and you’d carried on as normal.

It wasn’t until almost a month later when the two of you had been alone in the gym on your compound in the middle of a workout when he’d glanced over at you from his treadmill. 

“You never said it back.” 

You looked over at him with a frown from your own treadmill. 

“What?” 

Luke huffed out a breath, hitting a button on his machine and waiting for it to slow to a stop. You did the same and came to meet him in front of the machines. You both had sweat rolling down your faces, Luke’s wife beater clung to his solid chest with perspiration. He looked utterly delicious. 

“I told you I loved you and you never said it back.” He didn’t make eye contact with you and it was the most unsure you’d ever seen him. 

“I’d hoped it was implied.” You shrugged your shoulders and he finally looked up at you. 

“Implied in the way you ream me any chance you get?” His lip twitched at the corner. 

“I prefer the term “flirty banter” but yes.” 

Luke chuckled, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was around before he stepped closer to you and cupped your jaw. 

There were a handful of people who knew about your relationship, only those who needed to know. Both Reynolds and Luke’s neighbour Martinez were privy, mostly because you had to kick them out if the two of you wanted any alone time. But if the captain was to find out, it would be the end of you both. Sex between soldiers happened extremely often, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t against the rules. Especially when one of them was in a position of seniority. 

“Tell me you love me, cariño.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

He chuckled again, eyes darkening. His hand moved from your jaw to the back of your neck, gripping it hard and pulling your head back roughly. You gasped, feeling the all too familiar heat spread between your legs and wanting him to take you right here and now.  

“Tell me you love me. I won’t ask again, private.” 

“Fuck,” you swallowed thickly, his fingers digging into your neck and making your knees quake. “I l-love you, Sarg. Of course I love you.” 

It was the first time you’d ever said that to someone before and you’d meant it with your entire being. Since then you’d only ever said it a handful times, as had Luke. Which was why you knew exactly how he must be feeling in that moment. 

“I can’t imagine doing this without you.” His breath tickled your flesh and caused you to push back against him, mostly for fear you would collapse. His hold on your waist grew stronger, holding you upright. “I wish we could just leave, go back to the states and have a chance at something real. I’d marry you tomorrow, you know? I’d give it all up and I’d marry you and buy us a nice little house in the suburbs and we’d have kids and dogs and we’d be so fucking happy.” 

“But we can’t.” You felt strangely emotional, tears welling in your eyes at his words. “Because we made the decision to fight for our country. And we’re both too stubborn not to see that through.” 

He turned you in his arms and you immediately noticed the tears in his own eyes. He moved you backwards until you were flush with the wet tiled wall. He pressed his body up against yours and held your face in his large hands. 

“I want more than this.” His nostrils flared slightly. “This isn’t enough for me anymore.” 

“Sarg,” you shook your head. “I am going to Afghanistan. I love you but I loved the army first.” 

“If you go,” he choked a little as he spoke. “If you go, I don’t see a way we can be together.” 

“I know.” You agreed. “But I’m not giving up everything I’ve worked so hard for, for anyone. I’m sorry but my career will always come first.”

Luke surprised you when he chuckled dryly.

“And ironically, that’s one of the things I love most about you. I would never stand in the way of your career Y/L/N, you know that.” One of his hands moved down to toy with the ring hanging around your neck wistfully. 

“And that’s one of the things I love the most about you.” 

He let go of your necklace, suddenly slamming his hips against yours and thrusting you back hard into the tiles, a complete one eighty from how soft he’d been just moments before. You knew well enough that Sergeant Luke Alvez hated to be vulnerable, even with you, so his change in demeanour didn’t surprise you. 

He moved his hand down your body, beneath your right thigh and tugged your leg up, practically throwing it around his waist. Seconds later he roughly thrust inside of you, causing you to gasp loudly at the sensation. Luke was certainly not small and although you’d been expecting it, it didn’t make it hurt less. But god how you loved the pain. 

He buried his face into your neck, unable to look at you any longer for fear he may actually cry. Luke had always been more comfortable communicating with his body, letting his thrusts tell you all the things his words couldn’t. 

And at the moment, his message was loud and clear. You belonged to him and you always would. No matter what happened, a piece of you would always be owned by Luke Alvez. 

***

Present - Los Angeles, California

You and Spencer had a very strict no fraternisation while on cases rule. The two of you only ever hooked up when at home, not wanting your relationship to get in the way of work. 

The only problem with that was it had been a month. It had been a month since you and Spencer had been alone together, a month since the two of you had been intimate, the longest in your six month relationship. And maybe if that was the only thing, you could have waited until you were home. But it wasn’t the only factor. 

Luke’s reappearance in your life had thrown you through a loop, but not only that, had left you frightfully horny. You couldn’t look at him without thinking of those long, hot Iraqi nights spent between the sheets with him. The way his fingertips felt on your skin, the way his lips felt pressing kisses all over your body. 

It wasn’t fair on Spencer for you to use him for sex because you were craving your ex. But if you didn’t find yourself outside of his room that night, knocking on his door, you feared you may have ended up at Luke’s door instead. 

You’d tried not to give in. You masturbated three times in a desperate need to banish Luke from your sordid thoughts. But it wasn’t enough. And so you found yourself outside of Spencer’s room, ready to break your one rule. 

When he opened the door he was wearing just a pair of boxers and an old CalTech t-shirt. His hair was messy and his eyes a little bloodshot, telling you he’d been sleeping. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You chewed on your bottom lip.

“It’s ok.” He offered you a sleepy smile. “Is everything alright?” 

“It’s been a month.” You shrugged, giving him your best sultry smirk. “I’ve missed you.” 

You watched the way his Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed a thick lump in his throat. His eyes moved down your body, raking up and down your skimpy shorts and tank top. When they settled back on your own eyes, the tiredness had vanished. 

“We’re on a case.” He croaked, his voice cracking a little. 

“Exigent circumstances.” You shrugged again. “It’s been a freaking month.”

For a second, Spencer looked as though he may argue with you and send you away empty handed. He swallowed again, looking over your shoulder as if to check no one was around, before he took hold of your wrist and pulled you inside his room. 

As soon as the door was closed behind you, he attacked you with his lips, the most ferocious kiss he’d ever bestowed on you. It was so much more like the way Luke always used to kiss you, that desperate and hurried passion, as opposed to the gentle way in which Spencer normally kissed you. 

It wasn’t long at all before you were helping each other out of your clothes and dragging him towards the bed. Usually Spencer would spend a long time pleasuring you with his fingers or his tongue before you got to the main event but you had no patience for that tonight. 

He tried to kiss down your chest, heading south down your body to eat you out, which usually you would have been all for. But not tonight. You gripped his face as his tongue swirled around your nipple and pulled him back so you could kiss him, parting your legs and hooking them over his thighs. His hard cock nestled between your legs and you grinded against him.

“Please, Spence,” you spoke against his lips. “Please just fuck me.” 

“Are you sure?” He mumbled. 

“Yes. Yes, it’s been too long.” You arched your back, helping him line himself up. 

He pulled back from the kiss and looked down at you, questioning you with his eyes as if to make sure this was what you wanted. But you’d never been surer of anything. 

Spencer nodded his head, placing his hands either side of your head on the pillow for leverage as he pressed himself between your legs. He was slow in his movements, inching his way inside of you delicately and you wanted to scream at him to fuck you harder. But you refrained and let Spencer set the pace. At least at first you did. 

It was only a matter of minutes before you started thrusting up to meet him, digging your fingernails into his ass cheeks. You moved your lips to his ear and nibbled on the lobe.

“Spencer for the love of god, fuck me like you mean it.” You growled into his ear. 

Spencer hissed a little at your words, surprised by your request. But he didn’t deny it, he’d never deny you anything. As if some kind of switch flipped in Spencer, he grabbed your thighs a little roughly and moved them from where they were around his waist to over his shoulders. His eyes were practically black as he looked down at you, taking hold of your hips as he began thrusting hard and fast. 

You moaned so loudly the walls practically shook. You didn’t know Spencer had this in him, maybe you should have said something sooner. The way in which he roughly fucked you was so reminiscent of Luke you couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter closed and picture him on top of you. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t, but once you saw his face you couldn’t stop. 

“You’re so good for me, Y/L/N. So fucking good for me.” His voice rang out in your ears. “My good fucking girl. Tell me what a good girl you are.” 

“I’m your good girl, Sarg.” 

You came in record time, only just biting your tongue from calling out Luke’s nickname when you did so. Spencer looked suitably proud of himself when he pulled out and rolled down next to you in the bed. 

“Damn, I didn’t know I was that good.” He chuckled, pulling you close so he could kiss your forehead. 

The tears pricked at your eyes as you snuggled against his chest to hide your face from him. What the hell were you playing at, thinking of Luke while Spencer fucked you? You were in over your head, Luke’s presence had fucked with your mind. It would get easier, you promised yourself it wouldn’t happen again. 

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@carolinesbookworld